BREAKING NEWS ARCHIVE: OFFICIAL COMMUNICATION RECOVERED FROM PUBLIC INFO NETWORK CACHE


    Edu-4, 08:45 Local Time (GMT+1) – Government authorities have confirmed a critical systems failure within Edu-4’s Central Hub, resulting in temporary disruptions to key services across the city. While the full scope of the incident is still being assessed, officials assure that recovery efforts are already well underway, and that order will be fully restored in the coming hours.


    According to the Office of Public Information, the technical failure originated from an energy containment issue in the Central Hub’s processing sector. Emergency protocols were immediately activated, ensuring that critical systems remained protected, and no large-scale structural damage was sustained.


    Temporary Service Interruptions


    While containment efforts were successful in preventing a wider crisis, citizens may experience temporary access limitations as systems are recalibrated. Key impacts include:


    <ul>


    <li>


    RFID-linked services are temporarily offline while cloud databases undergo re-initialization. Alternative verification methods are in place for essential services.


    </li>


    <li>


    Water and power supply is currently not functioning due to the energy containment issue.


    </li>


    <li>


    Government administration centers remain open, assisting citizens with identification reissuance and service requests.


    </li>


    </ul>


    City officials emphasize that there is no cause for alarm and that all essential services will resume full function as quickly as possible, and that other nearby cities have been contacted, and are currently preparing humanitarian aid to the city.


    Addressing Misinformation


    Authorities are aware of unverified reports circulating through private networks, speculating about external involvement in the failure. Government representatives stress that these claims lack any credible basis and urge the public to rely on official sources for accurate updates.


    "Edu-4 remains strong," Chief Administrator Selis Mentora assured in a public statement. "Our city’s infrastructure is designed to handle unexpected challenges, and our teams are working tirelessly to ensure that all systems are restored as soon as possible. Citizens should continue their routines, remain patient, and trust in the process."


    Law enforcement and emergency response units remain fully deployed across all districts, ensuring that public safety and order are maintained.


    Looking Ahead


    Engineers and infrastructure specialists have already begun a full-scale systems review to prevent future disruptions and enhance citywide resilience. In the meantime, residents are encouraged to follow official communications for the latest updates.


    Further information will be provided as recovery efforts progress.


    -----


    The first punch landed hard against Demi’s gut, forcing a ragged cough from his lungs. A splatter of blood painted the cold concrete floor beneath him.


    The interrogator barely flinched.


    “Where is the rest of your terror-cell?” The voice was eerily calm, the words almost gentle.


    A single harsh light beamed down from the ceiling, turning the dust in the air into drifting stars. The room smelled of sweat, blood, and the stale, sterile cold of reinforced concrete. A CCTV camera hung limply in the corner, disabled.


    Demi wheezed, his arms straining against the leather straps that bound him to the chair. “I already told you,” He croaked, spitting blood onto the floor. “They’re all dead.”


    The interrogator exhaled through his nose, almost as if disappointed. “Do you take me for a fool?”


    He leaned forward slightly, eyes studying Demi’s battered face like a puzzle waiting to be solved. “This attack… it wasn’t your endgame. You didn’t expect to walk away from it, but you expected something to come after. What was it?” His tone never changed, calm, patient, almost pitying.


    Demi knew better. He could hear it beneath the words, the subtle tremor of unease. The interrogator was lying. He didn’t believe this was just another attack. He knew it was something far greater.


    Demi found courage in that. A single ember of defiance buried deep inside him flared to life.


    "Minor?" he let out a wet laugh, head rolling back against the chair. "We destroyed you." His voice shook from fear, yet pride laced every word as well. "You’re out of the only thing you’ve ever had control. And soon, people will realize it. You can beat me, kill me, it won’t change anything. The others will follow. And when they do, they’ll rip you to shreds.”


    He held the interrogator’s gaze, watching his own blood drip onto his shirt. "You lost."


    The room fell silent.


    The interrogator stared at him, unblinking, before letting out a quiet chuckle. He shook his head, almost amused, as he turned away.


    Demi tensed against his bindings, fingers curling into fists as he watched the man move toward a steel table nearby. A dozen small, gleaming instruments lay across its surface, some familiar, others alien in design. The interrogator hummed thoughtfully, running his fingers over them, selecting something just out of sight.


    Metal clinked.


    Demi swallowed hard. His body knew what was coming before his mind fully processed it. His breathing quickened.


    The interrogator’s boots scraped softly against the floor as he turned back, something hidden in his palm.


    “If you don’t want to talk, I’ll make you talk.”


    Demi clenched his jaw, bracing himself, but he wasn’t ready for the first strike.


    Pain exploded through his body as his index finger was yanked back at an unnatural angle. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber. Demi’s scream tore from his throat before he could stop it, raw and ragged.


    He sagged forward, gasping for breath, his body trembling.


    “Ah,” the interrogator mused, crouching down to meet his eyes. “I see you do have some fight in you.” His voice remained polite, but his smile was widening. "I honestly didn’t think you had it in you."


    He stood again, lifting the object in his hand into the light.


    A small metallic device. Rectangular. Sleek. It glistened in the sterile glow, featureless aside from two tiny holes along its surface. It looked harmless, like an old-world wallet.


    Demi’s breath hitched, a tremor of recognition flashing across his face.


    “Oh?” The interrogator grinned, eyes gleaming. “So, you do know what this is.”


    Demi tried to steel himself, but his body betrayed him. His fingers twitched involuntarily, his limbs tensing. Sweat starting pouring out from every pore in his body, it knew too.


    “Then you also know what’s about to happen,” the interrogator murmured, stepping closer. He crouched beside Demi, holding the device just inches from his broken finger.


    “I’ll give you one last chance.” His voice dipped lower, almost soothing. “Tell me where the rest of you terrorist fucks are, and I’ll spare you the worst of it.”


    Demi was a coward, he had always been a coward.


    If he had known where the others were, he might have cracked long ago. But for once, he had nothing to give. He had no information, just the certainty that his brothers and sisters had already died for the cause.


    That thought alone was enough to stoke his dying flame.


    He forced a grin through the blood staining his teeth. “They’re dead, you dumb fuck,” he spat. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? We won. You lost.”


    The interrogator’s expression flickered. Just for a second.


    Then he sighed and shook his head.


    “I didn’t really think there was any fight in you.” He twirled the device idly in his fingers. “And I know these archaic methods are ineffective for real interrogation.” His eyes flickered to Demi’s finger. “But between you and me? I don’t do this for the information.”


    Demi barely had time to react before the interrogator grabbed his hand, wrenching the broken index finger forward.


    The device clamped down with a snap, its tiny blades extending, slicing into his flesh like the edge of a razor-thin scalpel.


    The skin of his finger peeled back layer by layer, thin ribbons curling away as though he were nothing more than a vegetable being stripped of its skin. Demi thrashed, his body convulsing against the chair, but the restraints held firm. The pain was blinding, all-consuming, a white-hot agony that surged through every nerve like wildfire.


    His screams tore through the room, bouncing off the concrete walls, raw and wretched. Blood dripped from the ruined finger, pooling onto his nail laying on the floor.


    The interrogator watched, fascinated.


    Then, without warning, he drove his knee into Demi’s face.


    A sickening crack rang out as Demi’s nose shattered against the force. His scream cut off abruptly, replaced by a choked, gurgling wheeze as blood flooded his throat.


    Through the haze of pain, he heard the interrogator speak.


    “This is your last chance, before I turn your brain into mush and extract the information by force!” The voice was no longer calm, it was edged with something sharp, something eager. “Tell me where the rest of your terrorist scum are.”


    Demi’s world blurred, his vision swimming in blood and agony. His breath was wet, rattling.


    He thought of the elevator. Of his brothers and sisters who had stood their ground, knowing they would never make it out.


    One by one, they had fallen.


    One by one, they had given everything.


    Demi had only survived because he had cowered behind the dead body of a comrade, and now he was paying the price for being a coward. No more he thought to himself. I want be afraid any longer!


    “Okay… I’ll tell you,” He whispered weakly, voice barely more than a breath.


    The interrogator leaned in.


    Demi spat blood and teeth straight into his face.


    Then, hoarse but steady, he mumbled:


    “Do your worst, you fucking circuit worm,” he managed to say in an obnoxiously nasal voice, like some Botox bitch reality star whining about how hard their lives is, before he slumped over in his chair.


    He regretted his words for a mere second when he saw the fire in the interrogator’s eyes. Hopefully he had enraged him enough to go too far and kill him quickly.


    -----


    "What do you mean? We’re happy here!"


    The quiet of the night had been undisturbed until now, but the rising voices cut through it like a slow-building storm. Anara stirred, blinking awake as hushed arguments drifted through the walls of their makeshift home.


    She had spoken to Lucien a bit after calming him down enough. It had been hard to get him to answer any questions, due to his weak grasp and control of his dream, making them flicker out if the question was too difficult. But she had at least gotten his name and knew where he lived, at least sort of.


    "Why would you want to ruin what we have?"


    Her father’s voice was low but firm, frustration curling around the edges of his words. He wasn’t the kind of man who argued often, but when he did, it was like trying to move a mountain with your bare hands.


    They’d had this discussion before. But Io seemed more stubborn and demanding this time around. Bror had tried to dismiss the conversation, unwilling to sit through the whole discussion again for the millionth time.


    "Oh, come on, Bror." Io’s voice was gentler, but no less determined. "You know just as well as I do that, we can’t keep doing this. We’re getting old, and we’re running out of medical supplies. Sooner or later, we have to go and plead."


    Bror exhaled sharply through his nose, a sound that was almost a scoff, but too weighted with unspoken fears to be called that. He turned to her, his expression unreadable beneath the thick beard that framed his face.


    The dim light from the old electrical lantern flickered softly against Io’s features, illuminating strands of her pale hair, turning them into ribbons of silver and gold. Once, when they had lived in the city, that same hair had glowed beneath the cold neon lights, catching the artificial shimmer of Edu-4’s skyline when they had kissed for the first time.


    That same hair had brushed against his cheek when they lay together in the dark, breathless and terrified, realizing they had just conceived a child in a world where life was no longer freely given.


    That same hair had been soaked with rain the night they fled. The night Io had looked him in the eyes, her hands resting on the swell of her belly, and told him she would and could not erase the life growing inside her. Her love already burned for it.


    Bror hadn’t needed time to decide. There had never been a question. He had simply held her hand and walked away from everything they had ever known.


    And now, twenty-five years later, she stood before him, the fine creases at the corners of her sharp blue eyes a testament to the years they had endured together. Time had shaped her, had etched itself into her skin, but Bror didn''t see those lines as anything but proof of the life they had lived.


    She was still the same woman who had defied an entire system for the sake of their child. She was still the same woman he had chosen, over comfort, over security, over everything.


    But this was different.


    His fingers twitched at his side, the instinct to reach for her just as strong as it had been that night in the rain. But he clenched his hands into loose fists instead, his shoulders tense.


    "We don’t belong there, Io," he said finally, voice low and reluctant. "We’re not allowed there. I can’t keep them safe there."


    Io studied him for a long moment, then stepped closer. She reached up, brushing her fingers over his jawline, her touch featherlight but deliberate. The roughness of his beard was familiar beneath her fingertips, the same way his calloused hands had always been against her skin.


    "Sometimes we have to do something dangerous just to keep living, Bror," she murmured, her voice softer now, the edge of frustration melting into something warmer. "You used to know that."


    She tilted her face toward his and kissed him, with a deep passion. A passion that spoke of all the years between them, of whispered conversations in the dark, of every moment he had ever held her in his arms and known, without question, that she would never want anyone else.


    Holding her he breathed in her scent: earth, firewood, the faint traces of wind-swept leaves, and wet rain on concrete filled his nose and lungs.


    When she pulled away, her hands remained on his chest, fingers splayed lightly over the steady rise and fall of his breath.


    "What if they refuse us?" His voice was quieter now, but no less weighted. "What if they force us apart? You know what they’ll do."


    Io turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder toward the other side of the room where Anara and Elara lay curled beneath thick blankets, their steady breathing the only sound in the quiet space. Their entire world was wrapped up in those two small bodies, in the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests, in the warmth of their presence.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    When she looked back at him, her expression was resolute.


    "If it comes to that," she said, "then we plead for them instead."


    She said with determination, as she tilted her head. Revealing the wide scar behind her ear.


    Bror felt the words hit him like a hammer to his ribs. She wasn’t saying it outright, but the meaning was clear. If the city rejected them, if they were denied a place in society as a family, they would make sure that at the very least, they would try to give their daughters a future.


    Bror turned away, jaw tightening, hands flexing at his sides as if trying to grasp onto something solid. He had never feared the city itself, had never been afraid of the risk.


    But he feared for Anara. He feared for Elara.


    He let out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb over the ridge of his knuckles.


    “I’ll never give up our children or you, not for anything! I’ll burn the hole fucking world to the ground before that happens.” He sneered each word with a pulsating anger she didn’t even knew he possessed. “You are my girls, and my only concern is your happiness and safety”. His whisper was a mix of anger, hatred and unending love now, all blended into one.


    Io smiled softly, her hands still pressed to his chest, holding him there, grounding him in the decision he had just made.


    For a moment, neither of them spoke. The library was silent around them, the walls lined with empty shelves, the ghosts of books long since vanished whispering through the darkness. Outside, the wind stirred, rustling through broken window frames.


    Bror exhaled slowly.


    "We’ll leave the day after tomorrow at first light."


    -----


    “What an unmitigated catastrophe! Who, precisely, is responsible for security protocol, because I will see to it that their next assignment involves a clipboard, a porta-toilet, and a colony of unmedicated psychotics, with boundary issues!”


    Selis Mentora, Chief Administrator of Internal Security, Minister of Civic Continuity, and Data Integrity for the Unified Administrative Bureau of Edu-4, was not a happy woman as she stormed into her home office, heels clacking like gunfire on marble, trailed by half a dozen flustered subordinates.


    “Why,” she continued, spinning on her heel with theatrical rage, “was there not a single reinforced outpost at the communications hub?! We’ve been attacked before! This isn’t hindsight, this is basic pattern recognition!” She banged her fist into her beautiful mahogany office table “Should I paint the words ‘likely target’ over the central hub on a physical map with glitter? Or would that interrupt nap time at the Ministry of Mediocrity?!”


    A few years ago Selis had assumed the position of chief administrator after her father grew tired of it, handing the position to her after nearly forty years in the position. Now, he lived on some small tropical island, somewhere near the equator.


    Due to her minister position, she hasn’t been elected as some of the other disposable puppets that called themselves politicians. No, she was born into it, accepted by her peers as the natural next cog in the bureaucratic machine.


    Her job had been a comfortable routine of sitting through meetings, sipping soft sparkling drinks, often laced with just enough alcohol to make the tedium bearable, offering her opinion on subjective matters when it suited her. When discussions veered into objective issues, she remained silent, unless the public eye was watching. In those cases, a carefully prepared speech, written by spin doctors and polished by subordinates, would be deployed. Afterwards, she would dodge direct questions with the practiced grace of a seasoned politician, making her accountable for nothing.


    Now, for the first time in years, she had to do actual work. Real damage control. And she hated it.


    “Everybody OUT!” She screamed “NOT you Shepherd, you stay”.


    She leaned forward, pinching the bridge of her fair skinned nose, waiting for the room to clear. “So… what did the prisoner spill about their plans for Edu?” her voice was a slow, deliberate drawl, each word dripping with condescension, like a queen too bored to hide her disdain. When displeased, it sharpened, nasal, clipped, the vocal equivalent of a perfectly manicured nail tapping impatiently on glass.


    The man across from her, a hulking figure in a crisp uniform, shifted slightly. “He didn’t spill anything. He knew nothing. And believe me, I pried deep.”


    Selis wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Ugh, spare me the disgusting details, Mr. Shepherd.” She said waving her hand “So we know nothing!?, This is just my typical luck, you can’t rely on anyone but yourself!”. She got out and went to the window with view of her private garden. Several human caretakers were buzzing around. Caring for her plants, trimmed her perfect lawn.


    She played with her brown hair a bit while she stood there, lazily looking out over her minions as they crawled around her garden.


    Selis Mentora pinched the bridge of her nose again, exhaling sharply as she turned away from the grating incompetence of her subordinates. She moved to the towering glass windows of her home office in her grand mansion located at the Southwestern quadrant of the inner circle.


    The perfectly cut Kentucky Bluegrass was encircled by Cascading Rhododendrons and Hortensias that spilled from terraced garden beds, an explosion of colors that would never fade.


    The Prestige Bloom Terrace was a work of scientific precision, each flower artificially maintained through carefully regulated soil acidity, ensuring their unnatural vibrancy never faltered. The caretakers knelt in the dirt, testing pH levels, adjusting fertilizer ratios.


    She raised her hand, pressing her smart watch, only to realize that there was still no service, because she hadn’t fixed it yet.


    “Grr-ah” She snarled, stomping her high heels into the pristine marble floor. “There is no electricity, no signal, no water. I haven’t even taken my bath yet and my hair is in disarray, could this day be any worse!” She looked at Sheppard briefly “Get a hold of the others immediately! Why are you still standing there?!”


    Sheppard gave a stiff nod and turned to leave, but before he could take a step, Selis spoke again, her voice now smooth, deliberate, and laced with something far more dangerous than frustration – intent.


    “Wait.”


    She tapped a manicured finger against her wrist, eyes narrowing as thoughts sharpened behind them. The tantrum was over. Now came the calculations. “The people are panicked, aren’t they? Running around like frightened rats without their precious access to information, their comforts, their conveniences.” She sighed dramatically, a slow shake of the head. “Do you know what they’ll do when the dust settles, Sheppard?”


    She turned, the cold glint of amusement creeping into her smirk as she finally looked him in the eye.


    “They’ll beg. First, they’ll scream, they’ll point fingers, they’ll call us failures. But give it another twenty-four hours, maybe forty-eight, depending on how desperate they get and they’ll come crawling. Because they don’t know how to function without us.”


    She stepped closer, heels clicking sharply against the marble, watching the way Sheppard tensed ever so slightly, despite his size. The man wasn’t afraid of much, but Selis? He knew better than to underestimate her.


    “The Brotherhood thinks they’ve won,” she continued, circling Sheppard now, her voice taking on the slow, predatory cadence of a serpent. “They think they’ve torn out our foundation, ripped away the strings we use to guide this city. But what they don’t realize is that they’ve only made the people need us more.”


    She came to a stop, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder, her nails pressing just enough to make a point.


    “So let them riot. Let them panic. Let them starve just long enough to remember who kept them fed.” She tilted her head, smiling. “And when we return order? When we bring back their water, their power, their precious connectivity?”


    She gave his shoulder a pat before turning back to the window, gazing out at her meticulously crafted garden with an idle, pleased expression.


    “They’ll be grateful. They’ll be compliant. And most importantly?” Her eyes flicked back to him, sharp as razors.


    “They’ll never question us again.”


    As Selis basked in the imagined triumph of her own manipulations, a nervous knock and cough cut through the air, as her door slowly opened.


    "Madam Minister," a thin, wiry man in an ill-fitting suit cleared his throat.


    "We, ah, may have a… complication regarding the restoration of power."


    Selis exhaled slowly, her nostrils flaring. "Complication?" she repeated, dragging the word out, letting it curdle in the air between them. "You mean to tell me that the solution to this mess is complicated? Do elaborate, Myrel."


    The man swallowed hard. "Well, you see," he began, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeve. "The external grid remains intact. We should, theoretically, be able to create power in the fourth circle, or reroute power from the other cities, wind farms, and tidal generators, but—"


    "But?" Selis prompted, voice sharpening like a knife.


    "But, the Central Hub’s internal substations were… uh, violently disconnected. The surge from the meltdown fried the primary transformers, melted our power regulators, and sent electromagnetic feedback that crippled our load-balancing systems. The automated redundancies failed entirely, and the manual overrides are…" He hesitated.


    "Are what, Myrel?"


    The man inhaled sharply, straightening his back in a vain attempt to hide the sweat now glistening at his temples.


    “Well… the situation is more complicated than initially assumed, Minister.”


    He hesitated, then continued with forced calm. “The Central Hub’s infrastructure wasn’t just compromised—it’s been structurally nullified. The primary transmission corridors, underground energy conduits, and routing nodes were either severed or vaporized entirely during the incident.”


    He cleared his throat before rambling on, Selis was already visibly tired of his nonstop nonsense.


    “The systems that would normally allow external grid support—high-capacity junctions, intake converters—either no longer exist or are buried beneath several metric tons of fused rubble.”


    A pause.


    “In simple terms, Minister… even if the surrounding cities could provide power, there’s nowhere left in Edu-4 for it to go. It would be like—like trying to restore water pressure in a pipeline that’s been… completely shattered.”


    He offered a nervous glance, his mouth quivering.


    “Also, the broadcast you requested—regrettably, no one in Edu-4 has received it. With the power failure and the total communications blackout, the system cached the transmission, but it was never distributed.”


    He shifted uncomfortably. “Once the infrastructure is reestablished, of course, it can be resent retroactively…”


    A thick silence settled between them. The smell of old yogurt slowly began filling the air from Myrel Lukts’ sweat.


    Selis blinked slowly while wrinking her nose at the smell, then turned back toward the window, her nails tapping a slow, thoughtful rhythm against the marble countertop. The verdant garden below her stretched in artificial perfection, unmarred by the chaos beyond her estate walls.


    For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, finally, she gave a soft, breathy chuckle.


    "Unbelievable," she murmured, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "All this technology, all this progress, and you’re telling me my city is now nothing more than a glorified corpse, rotting, and stinking in the sun?"


    Myrel shifted uncomfortably. "W-we have teams working on temporary solutions. Localized microgrids, emergency backups, rationed power generation—"


    Selis held up a single finger, silencing him.


    "You will fix this," she said, her voice a quiet, velvet threat. "I don’t care how. Dig through the rubble, rebuild the junctions, pull the power out of thin air for all I care—but you will bring my city back online."


    Myrel gave a quick, jerky nod. "Y-yes, Minister. Of course.". He turned on his heel and ran out of the room as quick as he could.


    She frowned as he saw the disgusting little man flee the room, she went to her desk and got out a perfume bottle. Puffing a couple of sprays into the air.


    “I hate that nasty stinking little man”


    Selis smiled as the stench dispersed, but it was a thin, humorless smile. She turned to Sheppard, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.


    "See, Sheppard?" she said smoothly. "The Brotherhood thinks they''ve won, but really… all they’ve done is break the machine that kept the sheep in line. And broken things, well…"


    She turned back toward the window, gazing at the still-dark skyline, her smirk widening.


    "They''re so much easier to rebuild."


    -----


    Only six hours had passed since the EduNet Core fusion reactor meltdown, yet the city had already begun to unravel. The blackout was absolute, stretching across every sector like a great, suffocating shadow.


    Edu-4, a marvel of technological efficiency, had been reduced to a motionless corpse. The towering hydroponic spires that once gleamed with artificial daylight now loomed dark and silent. Water pumps failed, leaving the entire city without fresh water. The sanitation plants, dependent on automated systems, stood idle, their unprocessed waste already beginning to fester.


    The failure to restore power from the external grid wasn’t due to a lack of energy, it was due to the catastrophic destruction of Edu-4’s internal power distribution network.


    Beneath the surface, the true devastation lay hidden. The explosion had sent a shockwave rippling through the subterranean infrastructure, rupturing transit tunnels and shattering the underground logistics network. Maglev trains sat frozen in their tracks, locked in place mid-transit, suspended on the overhead tracks streamlining through the cities landscape, the early morning passengers trapped inside the carriages, that clung to the non-magnetized rails in the baking midday sun, waiting for a rescue that wasn’t prioritized at the moment by the government.


    Back on solid ground, the power grid collapse had triggered a chain reaction of system failures. Entire districts plunged into darkness, their once-glowing facades now nothing more than empty silhouettes against the fading twilight. Digital signage flickered and died, their final messages burning into the retinas of onlookers before vanishing.


    The EMP-like discharge from the quantum core’s death throes had fried most non-shielded electronics, scrambling data beyond recovery. RFID implants cut off their users from the network, leaving thousands of citizens without identification, access to resources, or even personal records.


    With no working security systems, no functioning government channels, and no way to call for help, the city felt eerily silent, but that wouldn’t last for long, as panic had begun to set in.


    It started small. Automated doors no longer opened. Elevators hung lifeless in their shafts. All drones, ranging from Custodian to Gartner drones the once the city''s tireless caretakers, had dropped mid-flight, their shattered remains littering the streets. Checking out a vehicle was impossible without identification, and even if it had been possible, traffic had grinded to a halt, vehicles stalled where they stood, their battery banks fried beyond repair.


    By the eighth hour, the looting had begun. Pharmacies, supply depots, even public food dispensaries, without power, without security, they were open for the taking.


    By the tenth, the city was burning.


    Edu-4 had spent decades ensuring efficiency, automation, and seamless connectivity.


    Now, without it, it was completely helpless and the next step in the Brotherhoods plan could start.


    On every street, on every corner, from the inner ring to the outermost edge, the Brotherhood spoke.


    "For years, they have ruled you. Not because they were capable, not because they were needed, only because they said they were!"


    A tall hooded figure stood atop the beautiful white parapet of a fountain, his face hidden behind a 3D printed black plastic mask. The statuette behind him showed a blossoming cherry tree with birds sitting on the branches. Water had been cascading down the copper and bronze leaves that shone in the afternoon sun. The leaves slowly turning different shades of green from the verdigris. The fountain was located at the Northeastern, second ring Park, it’s former beautiful glory still present, in spite of the water sitting idle.


    “They promised us efficiency. They promised us progress. And yet, here we stand! in darkness! in silence!” The mans thunderous voice boomed across the restless crowd. He paused for a second, for all to hear the silence of the normally buzzing afternoon.


    “Their entire system is built on a lie, a lie so bold, so absurd, that they don’t even bother to hide it. They do not understand the things they control. Not even one of them was ever qualified to lead. Not one!"


    Lucien and Jan stood quietly among the gathering crowd already counting more than a 100 people. Some nodded in agreement, others murmured, and of course, that one guy who always yelled ‘YES!’ at rallies was already pumping his fist in the air.


    The speaker’s voice grew sharper, his words cutting through the murmurs like a knife.


    "You have seen them speak. You have heard their words. They do not act, they do not solve, they do not create. They sit in half circles in fancy carved wooden rooms, taking turns to debate problems they either don’t understand or are simply nonsensical. While the real work is done by the people like you! The specialists in your respective fields! The engineers! The doctors! The programmers! The scientists! The teachers! The workers!” He pointed into the crowds on individuals as he said the words, emphasizing his points. Cheers rang out for every profession, Lucien and Jan joining in.


    “They are not leaders. They are manipulators! “His voice grew louder as he spoke, dedication and perseverance seeping into his words “Puppets controlled by other puppets, whispering in each other’s ears, feeding you nothing but opinions, because they fear the one thing that could destroy them: The truth!”


    More cheers rang out, the YES man gaining followers.


    “There is a reason they reject those who are truly skilled. A reason they do not want engineers making decisions on infrastructure. A reason they do not want doctors leading health policy. A reason they do not want scientists shaping energy production. Because if the world functioned without them, why would we need them?"


    A ripple of agreement spread through the crowd.


    Lucien on the other hand started shifting his weight on his feet, uneasy as the speakers voice rang out. The tide of voices swelled around him, bodies pressing from every side as the crowd grew larger. “Hey Jan, I think we need to get out of here” he said as loud as he could without drawing attention to them.


    The speaker stepped down from the fountain and walked among the people, who parted like a receding tide. “They will tell you they have the answers. They will tell you that without them, you would be lost. That you cannot be trusted to think on the grander scene, to question, to decide for yourselves!”


    He gestured toward the carts behind him, loaded with food, clean water and other essential supplies. "And yet, here we are, without them, standing together, as the future of the world societies!"


    The speaker was silent for a moment, but the crowd erupted into larger, longer cheers.


    "They say leadership requires balance. They say it requires politics. But what does politics do?" His eyes moved over the crowd. "Does it grow food? Does it build roads? Does it create?


    “No!” the YES man yelled.


    “That’s right!” The speaker pointed at the YES man. “No. It only talks!


    And when the system fails, when their own corruption brings it crumbling down. they do not ask how to fix it. They ask only one thing: Who do we put the blame on? Who will take the fall for our incompetence?


    That is not leadership. That is parasitism."


    He stepped back onto the fountain, The leaves gleaming in the afternoon light, looking out over the crowd, pointing a finger at a group of people setting up a ladder to save some people still trapped on the Maglev train above them.


    "But here is the truth: You are not helpless, you are helpful! Look at the sacrifices you’re making for each other, look at the sacrifices your parents made! The machines that built this city are still here. The technology that powers it still exists. These are the machines that your parents and grandparents build and operated, an epitome to their sacrifices!”


    Yes!


    “It is only the parasites that have failed! And now, we will replace them.. ONCE AND FOR ALL!”


    Cheers rang out across the entire city, a booming symphony of yells and calls, a tidal wave of voices rising in unison, echoing through the streets like a chorus for battle. Shouts of dedication cascading from every corner of every ring, shaking the very bones of the city with their unbridled call to arms, everyone knew were their rulers lived, they drove by their extravagant, lush houses everyday on their way to the center.


    Left behind in the dying afternoon light bath bathed the city in golden rays, only a dozen or so people lingered in the park, barely a fraction of the crowd that had once filled the space with shouts and chants. Now, the real march was happening elsewhere. A living tide of nearly a hundred thousand surged toward the inner ring, a force of raw fury and justice, heading straight for the homes of Edu-4’s former rulers.


    Lucien and Jan deliberately didn’t follow. Instead they took a slow stroll back towards their apartment. The echoes of the speech still hung in the air like the last reverberations of a bell.


    "I don’t know, man," Lucien muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "This all seems a little extreme. Ripping people out of their homes like this… I get it, but… it’s a lot."


    Jan exhaled sharply through his nose; his hands regrabbing the two plastic bags he was carrying filled with supplies.


    "They didn''t mind doing worse to everyone else. Now it''s their turn."


    His voice carried none of the anger that fueled the others, just a tired acceptance of the way things were unfolding.


    Lucien hesitated, then smirked. "Maybe we still have some candles left from your birthday, we could play a board game our something when we get home… Oh and by the way, I met someone."


    Jan shot him a sideways glance. "Okay, first and foremost Gayyyy! And secondly: What? When? We’re always together. Wait, is it Mira?"


    Lucien snorted. "No, it’s not professor Moea. This is someone else entirely."


    A beat passed, Jan watching him expectantly.


    "Then who? Oh, shit, I know. It’s a dude, isn’t it?" Jan grinned, throwing a playful slap at Lucien’s back. "Damn, man, I support you, but you could’ve just told me."


    Lucien rolled his eyes. "It’s not a dude, I mean, your father won’t stop calling me, either.”


    Jan’s face scrunched in confusion, a hint of sadness passed his eyes for an instant. "…What?"


    "Yeah, that was terrible. Forget I said that… Sorry man" Lucien exhaled, waving the joke away, and putting a hand on his friends shoulder. "But no, it’s not Mira or a guy. Her name’s Anara."


    He hesitated for a split second before saying it. The moment the words left his lips, he realized how absolutely fucking ridiculous they sounded.


    Jan raised an eyebrow. "Alright. And where exactly did you meet this mysterious Anara?"


    Lucien cleared his throat. "…Ehm.. In a dream."


    Jan stopped mid-step. Blinked. Then, in a slow, exaggerated motion, he turned to face Lucien. His lips twitched, his cheeks bulged as he tried to contain his laughter.


    "…What the actual fuck are you talking about Briar Rose?"


    Before Lucien could answer, Jan burst into laughter, throwing himself into a slow, ridiculous waltz as he hummed "Once Upon a Dream." Arms outstretched, a plastic bag in each filled with supplies, spinning dramatically down the dusky street, a black silhouette, standing out against the molten red and orange Sunset, making a complete spectacle of himself.


    Lucien groaned, running a hand down his face.


    "Goddamn it, Jan."


    But he was laughing, too.


    Yet, beneath the humor, beneath the absurdity of it all, a quiet certainty gnawed at him. He could still feel it, that lingering presence, the way Anara had looked at him, not like a figment of his imagination, but like someone real. Someone who had been just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.


    His dreams had never felt that solid before. Never had someone in them spoken with such clarity, reacted so distinctly, or challenged him in a way that felt less like a hallucination and more like an intrusion. She had helped him more than anyone before. His mental defenses had increased dramatically since her guidance.


    No, she hadn’t just been his own mind playing tricks on him.


    She had been real, and somehow, somewhere, she was out there. He knew it! He looked at the horizon partly covered by his apartment building. the warm colors melting together. The first night in the blackout was about to begin.