You'd like to think there hadn't been any warning.

There had, of course. Way above your head - literally and figuratively - satellites had had their sensors tuned to the area of space long before most of them had recorded anything out of the ordinary. Other had been blinded, complex strings of code beamed up to them from hidden complexes across the globe - or in a few cases, simply deactivated by the controls hidden within them during their manufacture.

That part you'd heard about. The news had reported a few more de-orbits than were normal. Space agencies had expressed confidence. "All part of the normal operation cycle." It wasn't. They didn't know, either, but what else could they have said? Our satellites are falling from the sky, and the only way that could happen is if someone had hijacked them?

So they'd kept their mouths shut, and all anyone seemed to know was that it was all..... normal. Usual. Nothing to worry about.

Those few who did know - who had gathered, and planned, and bought, and organised - weren't saying anything either. It'd be nice to think, looking back, that this was because they were worried they'd be found out, their efforts stamped out, their leaders cursing as they were dragged away in handcuffs to cells that would never be opened. Or simply dismissed, ranting and raving like loons as all their frantic scribbles and diagrams came to nothing.

Maybe they were just used to keeping quiet. These are secretive people, after all. Or were, at least. When they still had to be. Hidden knowledge becomes known so easily. A bribe here, loose lips there. They wouldn't have survived if their plans could have gotten out so quickly.

The truth......

The truth is, well.... they simply didn't care. They didn't hide their plans because they feared they'd be caught. They didn't worry about keeping the secrets they had kept for centuries.

Because they knew that, in the end, matters had gone beyond any stopping years before anyone else noticed. Years before they could be stopped. Oh, they hid. They kept well out of it all for as long as they could, biding their time. But that was just in case.

They had nothing to fear, after all. Not anymore.

On that day, though, it seemed like there was nothing to fear. It was a bright, sunny morning, and the only worries on your mind as you walked through town on your way to college was whether you'd get given any more work or reading to do at home by a professor.

The strangest part of it was how quiet it was. It's not like you'd thought about it, but if you'd imagined what it would be like when a meteorite falls from the sky, you'd guess it would make some kind of noise. Screaming, maybe, or whistling.

As it was, the first you knew of it was when it burst the bright morning as it deafeningly crashed into the street behind you, flinging you into the air, and the final crash as you were sent into the ground, and see and hear no more.