Final Era: August 13, 2119

Salt Lake, Kansas, USA

A man who had long forgotten his name was driving down a winding road where it was uneven and barren, and his loyal dog was by his side. Heading east, toward dusk, he expertly piloted his mobile fortress: Marauder 69, sprayed with a glaring red and black widow pattern, was on a mission to follow up on a report of unbridled radical anomalous personnel who had become public enemies of the population as a result of terrorist attacks on the residents of Old Kansas.

He rolled down the window and flicked the cigarette butt out. "How? You don't often find anomalies in the wild, do you, kid? ”

"No, it's not common at all, and don't call me a child," replied the fancy dog, his voice muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

"I thought everyone on earth was dead, and now it seems that we were still too naïve," the man said with a smile, and the dog rolled his eyes. "God, I feel like the ashes are going to fall on my clothes. Help me shake the ashes, No. 1" No. 1 flicked the ash out the window with his cigar in his hand. "It's coming, Number 9," Number 9 gasped excitedly.

As they walked through an Aboriginal camp that had recently undergone a massacre, Agent 1 popped up a certified document on his communications device. On the screen is a man who looks to be around 25 years old. Number 1 slammed the door shut, wiped his clothes with his hands, and walked over to the natives. No. 9 jumped out of the window and ran excitedly to the family of three.

"Hello. I work for the Foundation. We've been told that your tribe has been attacked," Nine-Nine said in a professional and sympathetic tone. The family was physically intertwined with each other, and the only voices in response were a unified and subdued wail.

"I see," 9 replied, turning to 1. "Do you hear that?"

Number 1 narrowed his eyes. "Every Word"

"We thank you for taking this time, and we will help and protect you and your families in the future. If you guys need anything else, please give me a call. We're so sorry for what happened to you, and remember our words," 9 bared his teeth. "He's going to be stopped. We will not hide in the dark again. We will stand in the sun. ”

The family slapped and stroked No. 9's belly in a circle, which made him roll on the ground with excitement.

"Oh, hell, number nine."

"I'm sorry, I'm coming."

In the midst of the corrupt and chaotic times, the Foundation continues to operate normally, maintaining the status quo at all costs. Maintain normalcy in society. Containment anomalies. But this is just a phantom of the former Foundation, and the two are not the same.

When or how the Foundation changed its spirit, no one can be entirely sure. There are some arguments that it is simply maintaining the status quo. Some claim that the Foundation has been completely controlled by something that is outside the scope of human cognition... Of course, it's also possible that the Foundation hasn't changed at all.

Beneath Yellowstone, the remnants of an ancient Foundation institution, are one of the last few unmutated human settlements on Earth. The Foundation's goal of containing anomalies has failed, and priorities have changed. Humans were contained and sterilized. Containment breaches are no longer a problem, just a breach of the perimeter.

A few years ago, the chambers of Eden had been rusted and the gears creaked. They had spent years trying to restore their incredible machine to its former glory, but it really didn't work. The overload has already destroyed it, and the system is nearing its limit. Only the third level of the system remains, and while it is not capable enough to create life, it is at least able to hold it.

Ten years ago, the memories of the last nine humans were suddenly awakened through the old protocol, and they looked at each other suspiciously in the control room. If the machine is able to function normally at this time, the world will rebuild itself, but they do not know what the machine does, and their own identity.

Eventually, they began to learn about the Foundation, and found a photo in the database that closely resembled what they looked like.

1 remembered everything, and while his companions were scratching their cheeks over a picture of a man with a goldfish head in the archives, 1 decided to leave everything as it was.

Number 2 has pale pink, raised scars on his forearms, but no one can blame him for the scars.

3 is busy researching their inventory to solve their existential crisis.

Number 4 is leaning against a nondescript recess in the maze of dashboards, with silver chains tightly wrapped around a lever.

Five is desperate to make the population of Eden grow, while Six is making sure that Seven is not. Eight claims to know who is supposed to do this.

And number 9 is not a dog, because no one knows what a dog should be like.