Colossal discs rise from the oceans and begin rolling inland at five miles per hour. They do not attack. They do not communicate. They simply advance. Within days, identical forms emerge across the globe, moving steadily across coastlines, farmland, highways, and cities.
Governments mobilize. Scientists calculate trajectories. News cycles accelerate. Ordinary people gather at the shifting edge, watching the boundary move yard by yard. The phenomenon cannot be redirected or negotiated with. It can only be measured.
As weeks turn into months, humanity is forced into a new rhythm—adapting infrastructure, recalculating borders, reorganizing economies—learning to live alongside something vast and indifferent. The Interval is a literary speculative novel about time, systems, and what is revealed when the incomprehensible refuses to explain itself.
Colossal discs rise from the oceans and begin rolling inland at five miles per hour. They do not attack. They do not communicate. They simply advance. Within days, identical forms emerge across the globe, moving steadily across coastlines, farmland, highways, and cities.
Governments mobilize. Scientists calculate trajectories. News cycles accelerate. Ordinary people gather at the shifting edge, watching the boundary move yard by yard. The phenomenon cannot be redirected or negotiated with. It can only be measured.
As weeks turn into months, humanity is forced into a new rhythm—adapting infrastructure, recalculating borders, reorganizing economies—learning to live alongside something vast and indifferent. The Interval is a literary speculative novel about time, systems, and what is revealed when the incomprehensible refuses to explain itself.