《The Dreamer》


 Chapter 1

    Prologue


    There is a moment before waking from a dream that always feels strange. Two realities clash together, one obliterating the other. The mind lingers in that void for a while, suspended between one reality and the next, caught between the subconscious world of dreams and the conscious waking world waiting just beyond the edges of awareness.


    Falling asleep is no different. You close your eyes, pretending to sleep, waiting for unconsciousness to take hold. And then, at some imperceptible moment, it does. But there is no threshold, no clear boundary marking the transition. No single point where wakefulness ends, and sleep begins. Only the slow unraveling of thoughts, like threads slipping through your fingers.


    Yet, despite this seamless descent, you never truly know you¡¯re asleep until you wake. Dreams dissolve into absurdity the instant consciousness reasserts itself. It¡¯s only in the fleeting seconds before waking, when the remnants of dreams cling stubbornly to reality, that the two states overlap. A delicate moment where you exist in both worlds at once, where the dream still makes sense, and waking life feels just as distant. It is then, and only then, that you might pause and wonder, just for a heartbeat, if the dream was ever the illusion at all.


    When a person dreams, the mind turns inward and forgets itself as it drifts into unconsciousness. It constructs a world from within, shaping landscapes, people, and events out of thought alone. But the mind doesn¡¯t observe this world from the outside. Instead, it steps inside, embedding itself within the dream, assuming the role of a singular presence through which the dream is experienced. From this perspective, the inner workings of the mind no longer appear as thoughts but as an external reality, a world that feels as tangible as waking life.


    Unlike the conscious mind, which anchors itself to a single point of awareness, the subconscious is not bound by such limitations. It manifests across multiple perspectives at once, inhabiting different figures within the dream, experiencing its own imagined world from multiple vantage points simultaneously. In this way, the dreamer becomes both the observer and the observed, the architect and the inhabitants, scattered across the vast terrain of their own unconscious creation. The only limitation exists in the wisdom of the individual, as neither the conscious nor subconscious mind can imagine something it has not experienced beforehand.


    An Eskimo can¡¯t dream of palm trees - Marshall McLuhan


    1


    The air was thick, heavy with the weight of something unseen, pressing in like the hush before a storm. A faint metallic tang clung to the silent room, mixing with the stale scent of sweat and damp fabric. Sheets twisted around a restless body, clinging to the wet skin, ensnaring the body in a firm grip, unwilling to release its grasp.


    The presence that felt like a thought without form or meaning conceptualized in the mind of the man wrapped tightly in the soaked prison. An idea that didn¡¯t truly belong. It pressed against the edges of awareness, shifting like a half-remembered dream, bleeding into the waking world.


    The moment he tried to focus on it, it retreated, dissolving into the shadows pooling at the edges of the room. Yet, its presence remained, not fully gone, yet never fully real. It lingered, pressing against his mind like an unfinished thought, like a task left incomplete before sleep. Something pulling at the edges of him, faint as a breath against the skin, an intangible pressure on his being, just beneath perception.


    Come with me


    Lucien sprang awake, his chest heaving, sweat trickling down his suntanned skin, pooling into the damp mattress beneath him. The cooling moisture clung to his back as he sat up, breath ragged.


    Shadows twisted in the corners of his room, retreating the moment he tried to focus on them. Only now did he realize he was still screaming.


    A sharp gasp tore from his throat as he forced air into his lungs. Trembling, he ran a hand through his curly brown hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead.


    His fingers cramped as he reached for the bedside lamp, flipping it on with a shaky breath. The dim light spilled lazily across the cluttered room, its glow barely enough to push back the remnants of his nightmare.


    His bed was soaked, his throat parched, his head pounding like a war drum.


    With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge and stood, peeling the damp sheets away from his skin.


    He could never remember the dreams, not fully. But the terror always lingered, an aftershock that left his muscles aching, his lungs tight, the phantom weight of something crushing his chest.


    Even now, awake, he could still feel them lurking just beyond his vision, as if watching from the shadows, waiting.


    The door creaked open, spilling a sliver of warm light from the living room into his nightmarish tomb of a bedroom. The shadows hesitated, clinging stubbornly to the edges of the walls.


    "God damn, man," came the familiar, teasing voice of his roommate, thick with sleep. "With a voice like that, they should station you as an air raid siren." A yawn followed, then a pause. "Did you piss the bed or what?" His tone carried the usual mix of playfulness and mild disgust.


    Lucien rubbed his eyes and looked up, meeting Jan¡¯s perpetually drowsy gaze.


    "Shut up, Jan," he muttered, voice rough. "It¡¯s just sweat."


    Janus¡ªthough no one ever called him that, not even his parents¡ªleaned against the doorframe, his smartwatch flashing briefly as he checked the time. The glow washed over his pale face, highlighting the exhaustion there.


    His blond brows lifted slightly.


    "Ah, fuck it. It¡¯s already half past six. Get ready; I¡¯ll make some coffee. Come out when you¡¯re done, bedwetter." He yawned again, turning toward the kitchen.


    Lucien grabbed his balled-up sheet and threw it at him, but it unfurled midair, drifting uselessly to the floor like a deflated ghost.


    His room was as uninspiring as ever¡ªboring white walls, a mass-produced gray closet, a black desk, a chair, and his stationary PC, which he barely used anymore.


    The only real signs of life were the ever-growing tower of empty energy drink cans and the mountain of unwashed clothes in the corner, both silently begging for attention.


    With fresh linens on the bed, he got dressed, only to realize he was out of clean socks.


    He sighed, dug through the pile, and settled on the least offensive used pair he could find, and got into the living room. Getting handed a tumbler filled with freshly brewed coffee.


    ¡°Thanks man, it¡¯s just what I need¡± Lucien said with a smile. ¡°We really need to clean up the apartment though¡±. He looked around at the cluttered living room. ¡°It smells like something died in here¡±.


    Jan looked up from his own cup ¡°I think that¡¯s just the smell of your socks dude¡±.


    Not long after, they were heading out of the apartment.


    As they passed the blue screen at the foot of the stairs, they both beeped themselves out. The scanner chirped in acknowledgment.


    "Maybe you should talk to someone about these dreams," Jan said in deep thought. "I mean, you¡¯ve had them as long as I¡¯ve known you. And that¡¯s been a while."


    Lucien scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "And who exactly would that be?" he shot back, sharper than intended. "What¡¯s a shrink gonna do about nightmares I can barely remember?"


    The automatic doors whispered shut behind them. Outside, the city moved like clockwork, pedestrians hurrying toward the train, shoulders hunched against the light drizzle. Their conversation stalled as they stepped into the flow of bodies, swallowed by the steady hum of morning life. They turned left and walked to catch the NS line.


    "There¡¯s no need to get pissed," Jan said, nudging him with his elbow. "I¡¯m just trying to help."


    "I know, man, I know. I¡¯ve just slept like shit¡­"


    "For four years," Jan finished for him with a smirk.


    Lucien let out a short, tired laugh. "Yeah, more or less." He took a sip of his coffee mid stride, savoring the bitter warmth.


    They walked in silence for a few minutes, passing what appeared to be the same apartment building again and again, in between each building, a park or another recreational area was strategically placed. As they came closer to the train station, Jan picked up the conversation again. "I wasn¡¯t actually talking about a shrink," he said.


    Lucien, lost in his own thoughts, barely registered the words. "Huh?"


    Jan grinned. "Before, you said, what¡¯s a shrink gonna do¡ª" He twisted his voice into an exaggerated, slow-witted imitation of Lucien.


    Lucien snorted. "Oh, right¡±. They began walking up the stairs, while a long line of people stood idle on the escalator right next to the staircase, looking into their phones, or simply staring right ahead, as if they were long away in thought.


    "What I meant was, maybe you could talk to one of the professors or students working on those sleep studies at the university." Jan was taking two steps at a time as he ascended towards the platform.


    Lucien raised an eyebrow in hot pursuit of Jan. "That¡¯s¡­ actually not a bad idea. When did you develop a brain?"


    "Fuck you," Jan shot back with a grin, stepping over the platform into the train cabin that would take them to the university.


    ¡°Stand clear of the platform,¡± an automated female voice said in a flat, emotionless tone.


    After a brief delay, the cabin surged forward and attached itself to the back of the main tram. Lucien and Jan moved quickly through the first cabin and into the next, finally finding an empty spot to sit down.


    It was less crowded than usual, but just as grimy. They found seats in one of the cubicle containers, facing each other. Lucien hated riding backwards¡ªit made his stomach churn¡ªbut it was still better than standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers for fifteen minutes.


    Across from them, two women in their mid-twenties whispered gossip with voices laced in judgment, the kind meant to be overheard.


    Lucien leaned against the window, staring out at the city. Parks, walkways, and apartment buildings with porcelain-white facades and obsidian-black windows slid past in a seamless blur of design and greenery as the train raced through the second circle toward the city center.


    ¡°Cabin detaching to Circle One, Outer Perimeter North, in one minute,¡± the same automated voice announced over the speaker system.


    A few passengers rose and hurried to the rear of the train. A soft hiss and the metallic click of decoupling followed, just as a new cabin attached itself to the back, filling quickly with commuters preparing to exit at the next junction.


    The train curved left, continuing clockwise around the city. From his seat, Lucien could see the graceful arcs of buildings and parks encircling the Central Hub, all framed by the deep green of the surrounding forest. Mansions dotted the terrain, standing apart from the hydroponic towers near the Inner Perimeter of Circle One. The view was breathtaking. The entire landscape looked like a massive bowl of forest and light, with sleek structures rising like polished stones from within.


    Lucien could make out three of the four massive gates leading into the inner circle as the train hurtled toward the eastern platform. They passed the jagged scar cutting across the pristine symmetry of the structure at the very center of the city¡ªEdu-4¡¯s town hall. Though only a small part of the Central Hub, its once-immaculate white surface was now scorched black and gray from the bombing. Drones hovered around it, already repairing the damage, efficient and silent.


    Lucien and Jan had always insisted they weren¡¯t political, that this was just another war between people too consumed by their own righteousness. But wars had a way of pulling everyone in, whether they wanted it or not.


    A little over two decades ago, the old political system had been dismantled, replaced with a direct technocratic governance designed to eliminate inefficiency, bureaucracy, and corruption. It was supposed to mark the end of political deadlock, the end of endless debates that led nowhere, the beginning of a system where progress would no longer be strangled by self-interest and stagnation.


    Yet what should have been the death of bureaucracy became its final mutation. A hegemonic remnant, a power structure with no purpose beyond its own preservation. A system run by those unwilling to let the past die, propped up by a populace either too invested in the illusion of their last democratic choice to admit it had failed, or too distracted to realize the truth.


    Dissent had started quietly, voices rising in protest against a government that had outlived its necessity. At first, demonstrations flooded the streets¡ªmarches, speeches, carefully orchestrated rallies intended to demand reform. They were ignored by the majority. The government refused to acknowledge them, as did the media, brushing them aside like the empty cries of a misguided few. But when the protests persisted, when their numbers grew and their message spread, the first signs of fear rippled through the establishment.


    Determined to stamp out the movement before it could take hold, the government acted swiftly. Crackdowns became routine. Protesters were beaten and arrested. The message was clear, there would be no revolution, no correction, no grand course adjustment to put governance back in the hands of the people.


    But suppression does not erase resistance; it only reshapes it. What had begun as a public outcry dissolved into something far more dangerous¡ªa hidden war waged in the shadows. Those who had once stood in the streets now moved unseen through the city''s underbelly, exchanging banners for explosives, chants for whispered plans.


    The government-controlled media referred to them only as a terror cell, stripping them of their cause and painting them as radicals without purpose beyond destruction. But to those who still believed in the fight, they had become something more. No longer a gathering of disgruntled citizens demanding change, but a force willing to take it.


    Their first strike shattered the illusion of control the establishment so desperately clung to. A bomb, planted within the central hub¡¯s town hall, tore through the department floor, sending debris and fire through the administrative heart of the city. The attack left forty-two dead and twice as many wounded, most of them officials, figures of power, architects of the very system that had refused to listen.


    In a single moment, the balance had shifted. What had once been a simmering conflict of words and policies had erupted into something far more permanent and the name of The brotherhood was on everyone''s lips.


    Jan let out a slow breath, flicking his head toward the window. "It¡¯s getting really crazy out there," he muttered. "You¡¯d think by now, as a species, we¡¯d have figured out how to stop killing each other."


    Lucien glanced at his friend¡¯s despondent face. "I don¡¯t know, man," he said, voice low. "I guess, in the end, we¡¯re all kind of savage.. given the right reason. Or if you step on someone long enough."


    Jan lifted his head from where he¡¯d been staring at his shoes, meeting Lucien¡¯s gaze with narrowed eyes. It made him look both intense and, somehow, even sleepier than usual.


    "What do you mean?"


    "I mean, this isn¡¯t just about that one night," Lucien said, shifting in his seat. "It¡¯s a reaction¡ªsomething building for decades. That attack was just the spark, but the fire was already there. Years of oppression, inequality. You can only push people so far before they push back."


    Jan exhaled through his nose. "We had it pretty good before this war broke out, man. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but at least we felt safe."


    "Sure," Lucien admitted. "But feeling safe and being free aren¡¯t the same thing. Just because life was livable doesn¡¯t mean it was good. And let¡¯s be real¡ªthere¡¯s no guarantee it¡¯ll be better even if the Brotherhood wins in the end. But for now¡ª"


    "Tickets."


    The sharp voice cut through their conversation like a knife.


    Lucien and Jan snapped out of their thoughts, looking up to see the conductor standing over them, arm outstretched. A scanning device sat in his palm, a rectangular sensor glowing at the center.


    One after another, they pressed their wrists to the scanner. A soft beep signaled the transaction. The word "tickets" was a relic of the past¡ªno one bought them anymore, in fact nothing could be bought at all. Travel was simply registered by the conductor. It could easily have been handled digitally when passengers boarded, but the system kept conductors employed. A job with no real purpose, just another cog in a machine designed to keep running.


    Something felt off, as the old man¡¯s stomps left their immediate surroundings, the train compartment felt eerily quiet.


    Lucien glanced around. The other passengers were staring at them, eyes narrowed, expressions tense. They had been listening.


    "Let¡¯s get out of here before we get in trouble for talking" he said under his breath, looking at Jan, while pointing at the other passengers using his eyes.


    They both stood and headed for the exit. The next stop wasn¡¯t theirs, but walking the last 30 minutes was preferable to dealing with unnecessary questioning. They rushed to the cabin in the back, barely missing the detach. The cabin swayed gently to the left deaccelerating at a decent pace, till it came to a stop on the Circle 1, East platform.


    Lucien and Jan rose from their seats. The next stop wasn¡¯t theirs, but walking the last thirty minutes was preferable to enduring another round of unnecessary questioning. They pushed to the rear just in time for the detach. The cabin swayed gently left, decelerating at a steady pace until it came to a smooth stop at Circle One, East Platform.


    The city stretched before them¡ªa masterpiece of design, engineered for seamless living. Getting lost was almost impossible; as long as you knew where north was, everything else aligned with logic and purpose.


    At its heart lay the Central Hub, a vast circular district spanning 650 meters in radius, where everything essential to life was within reach. City hall, research institutes, libraries, sanitation centers, and logistics nodes wove together with sprawling education complexes and vibrant public spaces. If you needed something, it was there¡ªdesigned to be part of your daily flow.


    Beneath the surface, four massive underground logistics highways funneled industrial supplies inward from the city¡¯s outskirts. Above, four concentric, pedestrian-friendly rings layered the surface, each one seamlessly connected to the subterranean road system. From the sky, the city looked like a perfect circuit¡ªan endless loop of controlled, intelligent design.


    Suspended above the rings, elevated maglev rails sliced cleanly through the air, carving the city into quadrants. Sleek, silent trains floated along them, bridging the distance from the outer rings to the Central Hub in minutes. Beneath these tracks, shaded walkways offered cool relief in summer, bordered by pocket parks, open plazas, and communal gathering zones.


    The innermost ring housed the city¡¯s officials¡ªthose responsible for maintaining the illusion of control. Their homes encircled the hydroponic towers, vertical farms that supplied a steady flow of locally grown produce.


    The second ring, where Lucien and Jan lived, held modern high-rises, their glass facades catching the shifting hues of daylight. These towers were designed for seamless access to learning centers, entertainment districts, and communal workspaces¡ªall of it tied to the heartbeat of the Central Hub.


    Families and essential employees lived in the third ring, where white modular homes sat in peaceful symmetry. Expansive parks wove between them, blending into rewilded zones¡ªurban permaculture forests designed for biodiversity, food production, and natural carbon filtering. These extended beyond the final residential belt, creating a living, breathing buffer between humanity and the world beyond.


    Outside the city¡¯s ten-kilometer radius, the landscape transitioned again¡ªvast industrial sectors divided by function: fabrication, energy production, water treatment, waste management, transportation. Beyond even that stretched the automated farms and forest reserves, maintained by swarms of drones and AI-run agrisystems.


    Spanning over 300 square kilometers, the city operated with such precision that distance felt irrelevant. Housing 2.5 million young minds, Edu-4 was a place of learning, innovation, and boundless technological promise.


    It was also the product of a long-forgotten dream.


    In the mid-21st century, a collective of engineers and architects conceived the circular city model¡ªa blueprint refined over decades until it became the global standard. Now, each city stood as a self-contained, sovereign state, managing its own infrastructure, governance, and future. Tied together only by a threadbare framework of common law and a handful of aging global regulators, they were islands of efficiency drifting in a fractured world.


    Edu-4 was no different. It was built as a training ground, where youth were shaped, slotted into predetermined fields, and polished into tools for global progress.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    At least¡ªthat was the original idea.


    Lucien had seen pictures and videos of the old cities. He had never visited one. They were relics of another era, vast stretches of abandoned buildings with roads that were either rigidly linear or a chaotic maze of twisting streets, depending on when they had been built. After they had been stripped of valuable materials, nature reclaimed them, vines weaving through concrete ruins, trees splitting asphalt.


    "Ah, shit, man!" Jan suddenly blurted as they bolted down a side street, rain pounding the pavement as they ran toward the Central Hub.


    "The fucking conductor has our info now. If he¡¯s with the establishment, we could be in real trouble."


    "Relax," Lucien panted, dodging puddles as they sprinted forward. "No one in a position like his is an establishment sympathizer."


    "Yeah, I hope you¡¯re right," Jan muttered between heavy breaths. "Let¡¯s slow down¡ªI need to catch my breath."


    They had no choice but to run to their intended station, beep themselves out as usual, and then double back toward the university. It was the only way to avoid raising suspicion¡ªthe system tracked normal travel patterns, and any deviations could flag their movements.


    By the time they reached the university, they were only twenty minutes late. They went in on the southern side of the central hub, which was the shortest route to the University grounds.


    The massive arched entrance swallowed them whole, its transparent smartglass doors parting without a sound. Inside, the Central Hub unfolded like the atrium of a cathedral designed by algorithms¡ªfluid, vast, and impossibly clean. The lobby stretched upward in a dizzying display of architectural ambition, five stories of open air framed by curved walkways and terraced platforms, each layered with soft lighting and embedded green walls.


    Polished white floors shimmered beneath their feet, interrupted by long black veins of basalt and pearlescent inlays that caught the overhead light. Sculptures rose like frozen waves from the floor¡ªmetallic, semi-organic forms that shifted subtly with their perspective. One near the entrance appeared to be a dancer, another like a spiraling equation rendered in copper and glass. Interactive art installations hovered nearby, displaying bursts of kinetic movement in response to biometric data as people passed.


    To the left, a series of escalators and stairs curled along the wall like strands of DNA, ferrying people between floors with serene efficiency. Transparent walkways hung overhead, their undersides glowing faintly with each passing step. The quiet hum of the maglev lifts came and went like breath.


    There were no advertisements, no kiosks shouting for attention. The few alcoves built into the walls housed practical amenities¡ªautomated dispensers that produced clean clothing, footwear, or hygiene items on request, all synthesized from shared stockpiles. A young man stood barefoot before one, watching as a new pair of shoes took shape beneath a translucent shell. Another alcove dispensed hot nutrient-rich drinks in biodegradable cups to a cluster of students chatting quietly.


    Despite the scale, the space felt calm. Intentionally so. Every sound was dampened, every movement gracefully guided. The ambient lighting adjusted subtly to match the natural rhythm of the sun outside, easing the senses into a state of focus.


    Lucien and Jan moved fast, cutting across the grand hall with long strides. The southern wing loomed ahead, marked by a vertical panel displaying a soft blue arc¡ªthe symbol of the University.


    The University spanned the first five levels of the Central Hub¡¯s southern quadrant, integrated directly into the structure like a root system fused with a machine. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lower levels, Lucien could already see clusters of students moving between lecture halls and open workspaces. Beyond them, clean-lined study pods, collaborative platforms, and tiered gardens climbed the inner curve of the building, all connected by quiet elevators and looping hallways.


    They slipped into the lecture hall unnoticed, settling into the back row. The professor didn¡¯t even acknowledge them¡ªhe was too caught up explaining how to multiply two 4x4 matrices in 47 steps without AI and why this was crucial to optimizing program operations.


    Lucien barely heard a word.


    Not because he didn¡¯t understand or found it boring, but because he couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the sleep professor.


    Somehow, Jan¡¯s suggestion had embedded itself into his mind, and now he couldn¡¯t shake the thought. He needed answers.


    When lunch finally arrived, Lucien wasted no time, he set of on a direct route for the reception desk. Located directly at the center of the central hubs ground floor.


    The front office was enormous, yet quieter than the rest of the building, tucked away from the chaos of the half million people employed at the central hub. The front offices housed the secretaries of all the different departments, ranging from administrative to higher education and everything in between. Yet no one rarely went here unless they were new to the city, or had gotten lost on there way to a meeting or class. Behind the sleek counter, at the department of education, a middle-aged woman sat with effortless composure, her long brown hair neatly pulled back, fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes giving her an air of quiet wisdom. She barely glanced up as he approached, too absorbed in the glowing interface of her console.


    Lucien cleared his throat.


    "Excuse me," he said, trying to sound casual. "I¡¯m looking for a professor. I¡ªuh, I don¡¯t know his name, but he studies sleep."


    The receptionist smirked. "Oh, you mean Miss Moea?"


    Lucien blinked. Miss?


    "Yeah, exactly," he stammered. "Uh¡­ I¡¯ve been having these, uh, dreams, and I was hoping to¡­ you know, discuss them with her."


    As he spoke, he felt his face burn, why did he suddenly feel embarrassed? He wasn¡¯t interested in her, yet he always struggled talking to women. Words tripped over themselves, his brain jammed, and the best solution was usually just to avoid conversation altogether.


    The receptionist leaned forward slightly, typing something into her terminal, and in doing so, revealed a frankly distracting amount of cleavage.


    Lucien tried not to look but failed, looking up, the receptionist caught his eyes, and quickly covered her swollen bosom.


    "She should be in room 303 after lunch dear," she said casually, holding a hand to clamp her beige colored cardigan together, choosing to ignore the scarlet color rising on Luciens chins.


    "Room 303. Thanks," Lucien muttered, taking a careful step backward, determined not to look and yet, his eyes betrayed him for half a second.


    Shit.


    He turned to leave. Only to slam straight into the door-frame.


    A stupid, involuntary noise escaped his throat as he stumbled forward, catching himself just in time before breaking into a full sprint toward the stairs.


    Room 303 was empty when he arrived.


    Lucien slid into a seat, peeling open the biodegradable plastic wrap around his chicken bacon sandwich, his thumb mindlessly scrolling through memes on his phone.


    Now all he had to do was wait.


    Lucien had just finished his sandwich and was absentmindedly scrolling through memes, his thumb hovering over a re-posted classic¡ªElmo from Sesame Street holding a mirror up to a child, the caption reading:


    Elmo shows Ethan why his parents got divorced.


    He smirked, even though he¡¯d seen it at least a hundred times.


    That¡¯s when the door burst open.


    A woman, not much older than him, strode in at such a pace that she was one step away from running. She didn¡¯t even notice him sitting there. Instead, she hurled her shoulder bag onto the teacher¡¯s desk, where it landed with a heavy clunk, followed by the slithering scrape of leather against wood. Then, with a sharp exhale, she collapsed into a chair, covering her face with her hands.


    Her blond hair, slightly disheveled, cascaded down her back, its golden hue catching the artificial light. Through her fingers, a perfect nose protruded, its curve so naturally precise that Lucien found himself staring longer than necessary. When she finally dragged her hands down her face, revealing striking, ice-blue eyes, he realized the rest of her features were just as flawless.


    And then, those eyes lazily locked onto him.


    She jolted upright, startled, letting out a small, sharp yelp.


    "Oh.. I thought I was alone. You¡¯re not in my class. What do you want?"


    Her tone was sharp, borderline aggressive, but Lucien chose to ignore it.


    "A-are, you Professor Moea?" he asked, unable to break away from her gaze.


    "I am," she said flatly, each syllable crisp and deliberate. "I¡¯ll ask again.. what, are, you, doing here?"


    Lucien swallowed.


    "Oh, uh¡ªsorry, I¡¯m Lucien, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Professor Moea clearly found the ¡°ma¡¯am¡± part hilarious, as her face lit up and she moved her hand to cover her mouth.


    I¡¯ve been looking for you because, uh, well¡ªyou see, I¡¯ve been having these vivid nightmares for as long as I can remember, and I¡ªuh¡ªwas hoping you¡¯d, um, maybe give me some advice on how to, you know, counter them."


    The words rushed out, tangled and messy.


    Professor Moea let out a slow breath, her posture relaxing slightly.


    "Oh. Well... I don¡¯t know what to tell you." She folded her arms, leaning back in her chair. "Dreams are nothing more than fragments of the subconscious. They hold no deeper meaning, it¡¯s just your brain sorting through data, like mental maintenance."


    She clearly was just going through the text-book stuff, already bored with Lucien predicament.


    "That¡¯s not what I was asking at all," Lucien interrupted, his usual hesitation towards women replaced by frustration. "I don¡¯t care what dreams ¡®mean¡¯, I want to control them. These nightmares have been ruining my sleep for so long I can¡¯t remember the last time I wasn¡¯t tired."


    His voice cracked slightly.


    He hadn¡¯t meant to sound so desperate. Hadn¡¯t realized just how much this was weighing on him until now.


    Years of perpetual exhaustion clawed at his sanity, fraying the edges of his patience. He could feel tears pressing at the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them spill.


    Professor Moea¡¯s expression shifted.


    "Well..." she said, pressing her long spread out fingers together so they cracked. "We are looking for volunteers for a sleep experiment we¡¯ve been developing. The goal is to observe dreams in real-time, essentially, watching them like a movie."


    She studied him as she spoke, as if gauging his reaction.


    "If we can see what¡¯s happening in your dreams, we might be able to come up with a way to help you gain lucidity during REM sleep."


    Lucien blinked. "How exactly?"


    "The procedure is nearly non-invasive, but it does require direct access to your main RFID."


    Her voice was calm, but her eyes were locked onto his, watching for a reaction.


    Lucien stiffened.


    "What do you mean ¡®direct access¡¯?"


    Moea tilted her head slightly. "You already know what that means."


    The air between them felt heavier now.


    "We insert electrodes into the base of your neck and connect directly to the chip. It¡¯s completely safe, so don¡¯t you worry, we use a local anesthetic. You won¡¯t feel a thing."


    She mimicked a quick syringe motion, then for the first time, flashed a small, wry smile trying to cover up her own desperation.


    Lucien felt a slight chill crawl up his spine.


    "Can¡¯t you just hook up through the cloud?" he asked, hoping for a less invasive alternative.


    Professor Moea shook her head, strands of golden hair swaying with the motion. "No can do. We don¡¯t have access to the security protocol. That¡¯s restricted to official use¡ªwe barely got clearance for direct connections as it is."


    Lucien sighed, rubbing his forehead.


    "Yeah... I figured. I¡¯m a senior programmer. I already knew that."


    Moea raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you ask?"


    "Because I was hoping I was wrong."


    He exhaled slowly, staring at the desk. "I¡¯ll have to think about it. But... as far as I understand, you can¡¯t really help me today, can you?"


    "You understood correctly," she said simply.


    She reached into her bag, pulling out a sleek laptop, her earlier tension now fully dissipated. "And now, you have to leave. Class is starting soon."


    Lucien hesitated for a moment before nodding.


    "Thank you for your time, Miss Moea," he said politely. "Do you have a way for me to contact you when I¡¯ve made up my mind?"


    Moea¡¯s lips curled into another knowing smile. "I think you¡¯ve already made up your mind¡± she blinked. ¡°I¡¯ll be seeing you again soon¡±.


    She reached out her hand. As Lucien shook it, his phone buzzed.


    New Contact Added: Professor Moea


    Lucien glanced up, just in time to see a quick, playful wink before she turned her attention to her screen.


    "That¡¯s crazy!" Jan blurted out, far too loud, waving his arms like a madman. Heads turned in the classroom, students glancing over with mild curiosity.


    "No one in their right mind would do that voluntarily!"


    "Will you relax? It¡¯s a minor procedure. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?" Lucien shot back, his voice lowered to a harsh whisper.


    "Yeah, for one, they could fuck it up! Mess with your electricals.. hell, they could damage your actual brain!" Jan hissed, his temper escalating.


    "You two, in the back¡ªshut it!"


    "Sorry, Mr. Metis," they both muttered in unison.


    For a moment, neither of them spoke. Lucien slumped slightly in his chair, absently spinning a pen between his fingers. There¡¯s always that, I guess.


    But deep down, he already knew the truth. Professor Moea had been right.


    He had already made up his mind.


    The nightmares had tormented him for so long, an endless loop of exhaustion. Even if the procedure was risky, the alternative was worse.


    "I think I¡¯ll go through with it anyway."


    Jan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You¡¯re a fucking idiot, man." Then, a grin crept onto his face. "But do what you gotta do, just know that if you go full retard, I¡¯m finding a new roommate."


    "Yeah, yeah."


    Both turned their attention back to Professor Metis, who was still half-watching them while lecturing on the proper way to shut down a program in case of a crash.


    Later, at the local food dispensary, Jan shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, speaking around it.


    "Maybe we can hack it." he said with a muffled voice.


    Lucien barely looked up from his half-eaten durum wrap. "Hack what?"


    "The FID Wi-Fi protocol, obviously." Jan rolled his eyes but kept shoveling food into his mouth.


    Lucien arched a brow. "Now who''s the dumb one?" he said, shaking his head, taking another delicious bite.


    "Oh, come on. If we crack the protocol, you don¡¯t have to risk getting even stupider." Jan finally swallowed, grinning.


    "Even if we could, we¡¯d be breaking at least half a dozen laws."


    "Two dozen."


    Lucien gave him a flat look, his mind pondering the option "it is outdated government tech though. How hard can it be?"


    "Exactly!, that¡¯s what I¡¯m saying!" Jan slammed Lucien hard on the back making him choke on his food, coughing bits of half-chewed durum onto the table.


    Jan reeled back, laughing. "Gross, man. Swallow properly."


    Lucien turned toward him, eyes narrowing. Then with zero warning, he spewed bits of chewed-up food straight in Jan¡¯s direction.


    "Aargh!" Jan yelped, hurling himself out of his seat and onto the pristine floor.


    For a moment the room was silent, then they both burst into laughter.


    Lucien extended a hand to help Jan up, but Jan swatted it away.


    "I can get up just fine without your help!" he proclaimed, puffing up with mock dignity as he scrambled to his feet.


    They stood, heading toward the exit. At the blue monitor, they tapped their wrists against the scanner.


    Beep.


    Lucien sighed. "I swear, couldn¡¯t they have made these things silent? Just turn green if it worked, red if it failed. Simple."


    Jan smirked. "What about the blind?"


    Lucien snorted. "Fuck the blind."


    Jan gasped in exaggerated horror. "Wow, ableist much?"


    "They¡¯re choosing to be blind. Just get a cyber-optics installed."


    Jan side-eyed him. "You¡¯re joking, right? I heard cyber-optic implants are the most painful experience imaginable, it takes literal years of agony to get used to."


    Lucien glanced at him as they crossed an empty bicycle path toward their apartment.


    "If I had to lose a sense, I''d rather lose touch than hearing or sight."


    Jan raised an eyebrow. "Really?"


    "Yeah. Smell, taste, even feeling, you can live without that. But hearing and seeing? Those are essential to life."


    Jan nodded thoughtfully¡ªthen, with perfect deadpan delivery, said, "Eh, I guess you don¡¯t really need to feel much when all you do is jack off."


    Lucien broke into laughter. "Oh my fucking god, man."


    After a short pause he went "You know, when I masturbate, I always think of yo moma.¡±


    Jan rolled his eyes, but he was grinning now as well. "Oh, real mature, you fucking child."


    "Keeping the classics alive is a virtue, and truth be told, she is better than porn"


    Still laughing and insulting each other, they entered their apartment building, beeped in, and climbed the six flights of stairs to their unit.


    They always took the stairs. It was a small ritual¡ªa way to feel less guilty about hours spent gaming or binge-watching AI-generated entertainment.


    But tonight was different.


    Tonight, they dragged their PCs into the living room, setting up for something far more daring.


    They were going to attempt to jailbreak the RFID lodged in the back of literally everyone¡¯s skull.


    The chip was installed within the first few weeks after birth¡ªa standard procedure. It required no maintenance, drawing power through heat exchange with the body.


    There were a handful of recorded accidents per year¡ªalmost always kids, usually elementary or preschoolers, who leaned too far back in their chairs and smashed their heads against the wall, damaging the implant.


    In those rare cases, the chip had to be replaced.


    "Hey, you wanna see something cool?" Jan asked, pulling open a drawer in his desk.


    Lucien sighed. "If this is your midget porn collection, I¡¯m really not interested."


    "No! Not that, but I know you want it¡ªthis."


    Jan pulled out an old plastic case¡ªthe kind that once held circular discs.


    Lucien raised an eyebrow.


    "Oh, wow. A DVD. So interesting.." Lucien said dryly.


    "Shut up and look," Jan muttered, eyes locked on the case as he opened it.


    Inside, nestled against cracked plastic, was an old, charred RFID chip.


    "It was my father¡¯s," Jan said, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic weight. "When he died, they cremated him, and we kept the ashes. After I moved out, my mom gave me the urn to remember him by."


    Lucien watched as Jan stared at the chip, his expression unreadable, his eyes distant.


    "When I moved here, I dropped the damn thing," Jan continued. "The urn shattered. But inside¡­ I found this. They must¡¯ve forgotten to sieve it."


    Lucien swallowed.


    "That¡¯s¡­ amazing. But are you sure you want to hack your father¡¯s chip? I mean, does it even work?" The words came out weird, tangled somewhere between excitement and unease. He quickly added, "I mean¡ªit was your father¡¯s, after all."


    Jan exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the case.


    "Oh, it¡¯ll work," he said, his voice low but resolute. "And it¡¯s exactly what he would¡¯ve wanted me to do. Being a programmer and all. Let¡¯s do it."


    -----


    Lucien was walking forward, through a vast corridor, though he had no memory of how or why he was here.


    The corridor stretched before him, bathed in a sickly green glow, the walls slick with moisture and the ceiling sagging under years of decay. The air hung thick with mildew, yet there was something else beneath it¡ªsomething metallic, something rotten.


    However Lucien was sure he had a specific purpose here, he just needed to remember what it was, yet every time he thought he had figured it out, his train of thought slipped, sending his mind back into oblivion.


    His boots echoed too loudly against the floor. The sound bounced back at him, distorted, as if the corridor were much larger¡ªor smaller¡ªthan it appeared.


    Ahead, an archway loomed, leading into a grand entrance hall. What had once been a beautiful entryway, with a masterfully hand-carved balustrade staircase, now stood in eerie decay as the staircase rose at the far end, winding its way up into the darkness.


    Above, the ceiling had caved in long ago, exposing a jagged hole to the night sky. Rain poured through the gaping wound, drumming against the ruined marble floor, forming puddles that reflected the warped architecture.


    A faint sound of metal clanking from above, made Lucien stop in his tracks and listen. A sharp, deliberate sound. Not the wind. Not water. It was too rhythmic, like a piece of metal being dragged over the wooden floor, something was definitely up there.


    A deep sense of wrongness slithered up his spine. His breath caught in his throat, and his danger sense spiked, putting him into flight mode immediately.


    He turned to run, but the corridor he had just walked through was gone. In fact, the hallway that had stretched endlessly behind him moments ago was now a solid wall, cracked and covered in peeling wallpaper. there was no way out except the broken staircase.


    Lucien swallowed. His pulse thundered in his ears, he had no choice but to move forward up the stairs, towards whatever was making the rhythmical noise.


    He stepped onto the first stair, wincing at the groan of rotten wood beneath his weight. His hand brushed against the rail, feeling the splinters bite into his skin. Step by step, he climbed, eyes fixed on the stairs, too afraid to look up.


    Halfway up, the stairway made a sharp U-turn. To his left, a window frame jutted out from the wall, but there was no glass but even more terrifying, there was no outside at all! no fog, no darkness, just a complete indescribable void.


    Lucien¡¯s stomach twisted at the eerie sight. He hurried past, focusing on the stairs, trying to block out the eerie feeling of being watched by an empty void. Then without warning, his foot went straight through the musty floorboards.


    The wood snapped like brittle bone, and pain flared through his right leg as splintered edges tore through flesh. He gasped, staring at his own blood pooling beneath him. The skin hung in loose, wet ribbons, but the pain was distant, dulled, as though the injury belonged to someone else.


    A deep groan of anger rolled through the stairwell, following by deafening grunting as something began moving towards the him. Lucien froze up, unwilling to look up to the top of the stairs, yet forced to as the light was blocked by something.


    He stared at a massive shape of gray flesh, with chains protruding from various holes, excreting puss that ran down the sides of the bloated human figure. It took in a deep grunting breath, then barreled towards him, thundering down the stairs at an impossible speed.


    The abomination enormous body bolted towards Lucien, its entire bloated body pulsating with, purple blood veins, it wasn¡¯t slowing down, it was going to ram into him any second now.


    Lucien¡¯s body reacted before his mind did. He wrenched his leg free, skin peeling like wet paper, turned on his heel and bolted down the stairs and ran straight down a winding corridor.


    Why hadn¡¯t he noticed this before?


    Lucien stumbled down the hall, heavy footsteps and horrid grunts rattled just behind him, the dim lights in front of him blinking in and out for every stomp the creature made.


    The walls were covered in a slimy fluid, lazily dripping from the ceiling like saliva running out the mouth of a starving beast, ready to set it teeth into prey.


    The corridor suddenly ended in a doorway, a massive black door blocking his escape. He threw himself against the door with all momentum and might, yet it refused to budge.


    ¡°come on! please open you piece of shit!¡± every word smeared with pure dread, the trampling of heavy footsteps and the guttural grunting getting closer, and closer. The color of the corridor switching to an angry red color, the dripping turning into a cascade of slimy liquid.


    ¡°Fucking open!!¡± he screamed as he expected to get squashed to pulp between the heavy door and the monster behind him. He finally managed to turn the black metallic doorknob, and fell through the door into an abyss of absolute darkness.


    Lucien¡¯s eyes snapped open.


    The first thing he felt was cold stone against his back, damp and rough. His fingers twitched, brushing against deep grooves carved into the cobblestone¡ªmarks left by something dragging across the surface.


    He quickly pushed himself up, his breath coming fast and uneven. Where was the monster?!


    He scanned the area, but the monstrosity was no where to be seen, only the massive black door he had fallen through.


    Luciens concept of time was a completely shot, he could have laid here on the cobbles for a minute, maybe hours, he had no way of telling.


    The square around him was covered in silence. It was somehow illuminated in a sharp white light. Like the lighting in the homes of psychopaths, that used florescent light fixtures in their kitchens.


    Yet, there were no stars, no moon. The sky was completely devoid of anything. Towering walls boxed him in on all sides, ancient and cracked, covered in black stains that looked too much like dried black blood.


    At the center of it all, a stone fountain loomed, long since dried up, its basin filled only with dust and decay. Lucien¡¯s gaze was drawn to it immediately, mostly due to the serene beauty of the female figure.


    He slowly got to his feet and moved closer. Yet as he did and the angle changed, the statue seemed to morph from the beautiful female figure, into an immense beast.


    The creature was frozen mid-violence, talons buried deep in the torso of a man beneath it, his face oddly calm and accepting of his fate, The creatures lips were pulled back, exposing sharp teeth, and its body bulged with unnatural musculature.


    As he stood there and marveled at the beautifully carved statue, a sudden dread suddenly took hold in his entire being. Looking up, he locked eyes with the statue, and it moved.


    Lucien was completely frozen in place, unable to move, unable to process what was happening.


    Then, instinct kicked in. He turned and shot off in the direction of the massive door he¡¯d used to escape the abomination. But there was no exit.


    No door. No alleys. Just solid, black, bleeding stones, stretching infinitely high, as if the world beyond had never existed at all.


    A sense of dread clawed up his spine. He needed to hide, there had to be somewhere he could cower away.


    Lucien turned, sprinting toward the fountain, crouching behind its wide, cracked base. His chest heaved. He risked a glance over the edge. The statue was gone.


    His stomach lurched violently and before he could react a massive entity rammed him with impossible force.


    Lucien¡¯s body slammed against the cobblestone, hard enough to rattle his ribs. A sharp, crushing weight pressed into him, something hot and damp breathing against his skin.


    Talons drove straight through his arms, out on the other side and into his rib cage, perforating his lungs.


    Pain exploded through him, raw and white-hot. His body instinctively convulsed, but he couldn¡¯t move¡ªhe was pinned. Blood quickly pooled onto the broken slick cobblestones beneath him.


    Lucien gasped, but no sound came out. Like his voice had been stolen from him.


    Above him, metal cracked¡ªsplit apart in long, jagged fissures. Pieces of hardened steel flaked off, exposing something wet, red, and pulsing underneath.


    The outer shell fell away in chunks, revealing exposed muscle, glossy with viscous fluids and entrails, twitching and shifting under the heavy plated armored surface.


    Lucien¡¯s writhed as the creature leaned in, pressing closer, the stench of rotting meat and damp iron filling his nose and mouth. He could taste a combination of his own blood and the metallic smell from the colossus draconian figure lurching on his chest.


    Its face was bare flesh, stretched too tight over the shape of the former beautiful human skull, which now bared no resemblance to its former allure, and instead portrayed a macabre mixture of sinew, metal, bone and saggy flesh. Yet the icy blue eyes were completely unchanged and locked his gaze to its own.


    Lucien couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t breathe. The thing¡¯s ribs expanded violently, its chest rattling like giant metal chimes.


    Then Lucien felt it, a wrenching pull from inside his chest, like something was reaching down his throat, clawing at his insides. His mouth was being writhed open from the inside. a thin stream of glowing purple liquid, siphoned into the creature¡¯s gaping maw.


    He tried to resist, tried to force his mouth shut, and managed to make his lips meet, cutting off the flow.


    The creature sneered, as it ripped it¡¯s arm out of his chest and arm, just to tear his jaw clean off like it was nothing. Blood gushed down his throat, warm and thick, drowning him from the inside out.


    He tried to scream, but his throat was already filled to the brim with his own fluids. His vision blurred, his limbs unable to do anything but spastically jitter.


    On top of him, the creature started shaking in joy, its deep, rattling inhale sending more glowing liquid streaming from his body into its own open maw


    Lucien could feel himself unraveling, piece by piece, being drained into something else. It wasn¡¯t just killing him, it was taking his soul apart. Piece by piece. He closed his eyes, accepting that he was going to die here, on the dark cobblestones in a pool of his own blood. A tranquil feeling went over him. Maybe death wasn¡¯t so bad after all. At least the pain would be gone.


    Lucien opened his eyes at the sound of a slap and someone yelling, ¡°Wake up!¡±


    His cheek burned, and he stared into a pair of wild, blue eyes.


    Another slap struck his other cheek, but he was unable to speak or move. He could only stare straight up into the blinding light that encircled his friend''s face.


    His arms ached, and he could barely breathe. As he tried to move again, a sharp pain shot through his back.


    Jan moved out of the way, and the ceiling lamp¡¯s glare completely blinded him. He closed his eyes to shield them.


    ¡°Holy shit, man, I¡¯ve been trying to wake you up for the past five minutes¡± Jan panted, his voice hoarse. ¡°What the hell happened?¡±


    Lucien tried to remember, but all he could focus on was his aching muscles.


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember¡± he stuttered, still lying on his back, his voice barely audible. ¡°Can you turn off the light? My eyes are burning¡±.


    Jan went over and flicked the switch off.


    A huge black figure stood right next to him, swallowing the glow of the light that had poured in from the living room, making it look like a black hole.


    Lucien screamed in terror.


    Jan rushed to him, running straight through the translucent figure as if it wasn¡¯t there, and pulled him into a sitting position. The motion sent a violent wave through Lucien¡¯s stomach, and he puked up his half-digested dinner.


    With his throat and eyes burning and the taste of vomit still thick in his mouth, he frantically searched the room for the figure, but it was nowhere to be seen.


    Looking at Jan, he saw vomit smeared on his friend¡¯s bare arm and T-shirt.


    ¡°Sorry, man,¡± he stammered, defeat written all over his face.

 Chapter 2

    "I told you not to create any more fucking problems, and instead of listening to me, you went out and put a bounty on our heads!" Lorien snarled, slamming his fist against the circular wooden table, making his olive, muscular arm jump back up. The impact sent a cup toppling over¡ªthankfully, it was empty.


    "I¡ªI¡­ I¡¯m sorry," a weak voice stammered. "It got completely out of hand, boss. I don¡¯t know what to say. It should have been an easy job, get in fast, upload the script, get out. Just like you planned. That guard wasn¡¯t supposed to be..."


    "Shut the fuck up, you idiot!" Lorien cut him off, his voice a sharp crack in the tense air. "I don¡¯t want excuses! Just tell me you at least got the job done¡­" He exhaled sharply, spitting the name like a curse. "Demi."


    "Y-Yeah," Demi managed, forcing himself to hold Lorien¡¯s dark stare without blinking, writhing his thin hands. "We uploaded the code. We¡¯re ready to disrupt." He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, hoping the fear twisting in his gut didn¡¯t show on his thin face. He forced his small stature to stay still, to look composed.


    "Good." Lorien exhaled sharply, his sneer softening into something more calculated. "Then we need to move.. now!" He pushed himself up from his worn leather chair and stepped behind it, gripping its scuffed backrest, his olive fingers digging into the material. "Maybe this little fuck-up will work in our favor¡­ If we strike immediately, they¡¯ll be too busy cleaning up your mess to stop us." He let his words hang in the air for a moment before snapping his head up. "Go tell the others to get ready. I¡¯ll be there shortly. Dismissed."


    Demi bowed quickly, spun on his heel, and bolted out of the cramped, concrete-walled room, stepping into the dimly lit corridor beyond. The rhythmic hum of electrical systems and the steady rush of water filled the elongated space. Above him, a tangle of pipes, thick cables, and cobwebs stretched across the ceiling.


    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve this treatment¡± Demi muttered under his breath. A single tear dropping into the dust on the concrete slaps beneath his feet.


    This section of the underground hadn¡¯t seen maintenance in years¡ªand that¡¯s exactly how they wanted it.


    Demi had personally ensured that the service tram running through this tunnel was disabled, making it impossible for any unexpected visitors to come rolling through.


    If anyone wanted access, they¡¯d need to send a replacement tram, which would take time, time that the brotherhood no longer needed, now that their plans were moved forward, and this temporary base of operation would cease to exist.


    As he walked, he took a slow breath, trying to clear his mind, ignoring the mix of dust and dampness clinging to the air. The electrical hum rose and fell in waves as he passed by the industrial hardware, his mind racing with both excitement and unease.


    Five minutes of brisk walking later, his gaze absently following the faded blue paint stripe running along the lower half of the wall, he nearly missed his turn.


    "You guys ready to move out?" he called out, trying to sound cool as he turned into a wider corridor. This one curved ever so slightly to the right, lined with small rooms originally meant for electrical cabinets, water piping, and waste management. The Brotherhood had repurposed them: bunks, tables, and a makeshift kitchen.


    "What do you mean ¡°ready¡±, Demi?" a voice called lazily from one of the rooms. "I thought we were waiting for the opportune time.."


    "This is the opportune time!" Lorien¡¯s voice boomed down the corridor. Just as he himself turned the corner, shoving Demi to the side.


    The response was immediate. Within seconds, the narrow passage filled with thirty or so men and women scrambling to get into position. The moment everyone stood at attention, Lorien began pacing down the corridor, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group.


    "Demi created a¡­ small distraction," he said, his voice laced with icy sarcasm. "And while it was unintentional and nearly destroyed all our hard work, it will have sent the Enforcers on a wild goose chase. That gives us a rare opening." He let his words settle, pausing briefly before continuing.


    "This means we have to strike¡ªnow. They¡¯re already combing the system for changes. If we wait too long, they will find the breach. And if that happens, everything we¡¯ve worked for will be for nothing."


    The group murmured their agreement, though several shot cold glares in Demi¡¯s direction.


    Lorien took one final step forward. His eyes burned with conviction as he raised his voice.


    "Are you ready my brothers and sisters?"


    "YES, SIR!"


    Three dozen voices roared back in unison, echoing down the endless service tunnels spreading out under the city.


    --------


    "I did it!" Jan proclaimed, a huge smile spreading across his face as he looked over at Lucien.


    For the past few weeks, nearly all their free time had been consumed by the hacking project, and now, at last, they had broken through the security protocol. The deadline for Lucien¡¯s participation in the sleep experiment was drawing closer, and this breakthrough had come just in time.


    "What?! How?" Lucien asked, his voice filled with amazement as he hurried to the other side of the table, eyes locked onto Jan¡¯s monitors.


    "It was actually way harder than I expected," Jan admitted, still grinning. "Honestly, if we hadn¡¯t learned how to prevent FIA on Thursday, I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve cracked it." He looked up from the screen, his excitement still evident. "I jolted the chip at different intervals during the boot sequence until it was forced to dump the encryption key into the memory."


    Jan was speaking faster than usual, his eagerness making his words tumble over each other. "When Metis explained it, it clicked for me¡ªof course they wouldn¡¯t focus on protecting against something like this. No one in their right mind would ever be dumb enough electrocute themselves just to break in to the chip.


    He turned to Lucien, waiting expectantly for well-earned praise. Instead, he got a sudden, enthusiastic hug.


    "You¡¯re a fucking boss, man!" Lucien laughed, releasing him. "Now, how do we use this encryption key to unlock my chip?"


    Jan rubbed his bloodshot eyes, slumping back in his chair. "Simple," he said, waving vaguely at the monitor while stretching his body. "We decrypt it, sift through endless lines of code, and figure out which command triggers the Wi-Fi protocol. Then, we pray that all the chips really are identical and that we can send the same command to yours without getting busted."


    He let out a long exhausted sigh and leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "But I¡¯m completely spent, man. Let¡¯s get something to eat and call it a night."


    The next morning, they woke up and got straight back to work. Now that they knew what to do, their efficiency had increased tenfold. Even though they should have been focusing on their upcoming test, they couldn''t tear themselves away from their pet project¡ªnot when they were so close to the finish line.


    Midday came and went, both of them still lounging in the clothes they''d slept in. Lucien, for once, felt somewhat rested. A rare occasion, considering he hadn¡¯t had nightmares the night before.


    A few days ago, he had spoken to Professor Moea about his recurring dreams and how to control them. Her advice had seemed frustratingly simplistic¡ªBefore falling asleep, tell yourself: My dreams are mine to control¡ªbut he had followed it nonetheless. Surprisingly, for the past two nights, the nightmares had stayed at bay. When he noticed his dreams taking a darker turn, he had managed to pull himself from REM sleep back into slow-wave sleep.


    The downside, however, was that it left him more irritable and scatterbrained. But compared to his usual exhausted mental state, this was a vast improvement.


    Lucien was staring intently at a piece of code when Jan suddenly broke his concentration.


    "I''m getting tired of eating toast, and we¡¯re out of a few things," Jan said, pushing himself up from his chair and heading to his room. "I¡¯ll go to the dispensary and grab some supplies. You want anything?" He raised his voice slightly as he pulled on some clothes.


    "Just don¡¯t forget the coffee," Lucien muttered, barely looking up, his eyes locked on the screen as he struggled to find the line of code he had been reading seconds before. His vision blurred, the text smudging together, and despite his restful night, the familiar weight of mental exhaustion crept back in.


    "Yeah, of course, man," Jan said, reentering the living room. Now somewhat presentable in a pair of sweatpants and an old, faded T-shirt¡ªneither particularly clean.


    "We also really need to do laundry," Lucien said, raising an eyebrow at the stains on Jan¡¯s shirt. "When you get back, we¡¯ll eat, call it a day, and do some washing. Deal?"


    Jan smirked, pretending to be offended by the scrutiny, but he merely nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you¡¯re right¡­ See you in half an hour," he said as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him.


    The sound of the latch clicked shut seemed to stretch endlessly for Lucien, wobbling the air like a loose bike bell on a gravel round while a deeper infrabass like sound made is eardrums reverberate at a near imperceivable slow frequency. A wave of drowsiness crashed over him, as though unseen hands had pinned him to the chair, injecting sedatives into his veins, dragging him toward unconsciousness.


    He fought against it, forcing himself upright and out of his worn leather chair. His steps were sluggish as he trudged across the light brown floorboards toward the kitchen counter. Holding himself upright using the dinner table.


    There, just out of reach, on the kitchen counter a mere spitting distance away, stood the life-giving coffee machine, still half full of a freshly brewed batch of caffeinated salvation. The room seemed to stretch, making progress impossible.


    Lucien fell forward, the floor racing up to meet him as his world went topsy-turvy, he smashed his head into something with an audible crack, then darkness enveloped him¡­


    You must return to us.


    "Lucien?" A faint voice called. "Hey, Lucien¡ªwhat the fuck are you doing? Get up, you idiot!"


    He felt a gentle kick to the ribs. Groaning, he tried to open his eyes and lift his head.


    The left side of his face felt sticky as he slowly managed to raise it. The sound of paper bags being rapidly dropped stabbed at his eardrums, making him groan even louder.


    "Hey, man!, Hey Luc... oh easy there, not so quick! Oh shit, oooh shit!"


    You must return to us.


    Lucien felt hands gripping him under his armpits as he finally managed to get onto his elbows and knees, his eyes unwilling to see reality. He was hoisted to his feet. The sound of something metallic rolling over the floorboards rang in his ears like a thousand bells.


    "Oh shit! Are you okay?! Come sit here!"


    Lucien was slumped on the couch, his head throbbing.


    "Lucien! Look at me, man!"


    Two earth shattering kabooms rattled his brain as his friend banged his hands together in front of his face. Desperately trying to get a reaction.


    You must return to us.


    He threw his arms up to shield himself from the sonic booms, his eyes darting around the room, searching desperately for something, anything to anchor himself to.


    But his efforts were futile, like trying to hold on to smoke. The world around him refused to settle, stretching and morphing between two separate realities neither of able to fully take hold.


    One was twisted and vast, an endless expanse of darkness, strobing light, and tangled purple strands stretching infinitely, like the frayed remains of an ancient, decaying spiderweb, its strands barely touching, fragile, unraveling.


    The other was a mundane, piece of shit coffee table cluttered with junk, his friend standing and four beige walls.


    Neither world felt real. Yet both belonged, entwined as if one could not exist without the other.


    You must return to us.


    The faint sound of fingers tapping against glass hammered into his skull, breaking his mind apart.


    "Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance! Second ring, Northeastern quarter, apartment 401, fifth floor! My friend has fallen, and he has a major head injury. It¡¯s really bad, come quick!"


    You must return to us.


    Lucien became aware of a faint choir repeating a sentence in his mind. The rhythmic chant played over and over, drumming exhaustion into his bones, the chant slowly picking up speed, his very essence sagging under its weight.


    You must return to us.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    His skeleton shuddered with every sound, each syllable dragging through the air like a million voices spoken in reverse, breath drawn inward instead of released. His ribs ached, stretching as if something inside him was pressing outward, straining against the cage of his bones, desperate to escape


    You must return to us.


    The chant rose and fell like the wheezing of an ancient squeeze box, breathing with him, through him, as if his own body had been rewired to house the sound. A constant eerie rhythm repeating over and over again.


    "Don¡¯t worry, buddy. Help is on the way. Just sit still!"


    You must return to us.


    Lucien''s awareness sharpened as he lifted his hand to his head. His fingers pressed into something wet and warm, the sensation delayed, as if his nerves were buffering behind reality. He pulled his hand away, blinking down at the dark smear glistening on his fingertips.


    For a moment, his brain refused to acknowledge what he was seeing.


    You must return to us.


    He stared in horror at his crimson-stained hand, as the voices in his head reached a crescendo. Small writhing movements in his blood made a violent jolt of adrenaline tear right through him, his stomach twisted, his vision sharpened to needle points.


    You must return to us.


    His hands trembled, then clenched. The voices mutated, twisting into unnatural guttural roars that ripped through his skull, his blood on his hands lifting off his flesh, hanging weightlessly in the air.


    You must return to us!


    He thrashed, his body rolling against the sofa, hands on his ears, his muscles locked as the two worlds inside his mind crashed together, smashing into each other like tectonic plates, warping, breaking, then suddenly snapping into place.


    THE EMPRESS COMMANDS IT!


    "UUAAAH!" Lucien cried out with an ear shattering roar, leaving Jan with a ringing in his ears. "What the fuck, man?! Where the fuck am I?! What the fuck is going on?!"


    The voices kept screaming in his ears, resonating with absolute dominion over his psyche.


    He scrambled backward, arms and legs flailing against the sofa. The rough hemp textures scorched his bare hands as he kicked against the cushions, panic igniting in his chest.


    A firm yank pulled him crashing back onto the couch.


    "Get the fuck off me!" he yelped. Kicking and screaming, slinging his head from side to side, sending streams of crimson blood everywhere.


    "Lucien, RELAX!" Jan bellowed, his eyes wide with fear. "I called an ambulance, but you need to sit still! You¡¯ve got a huge gash on your temple! Ah fuck man, there is blood everywhere"


    Jan stood over him now, pressing down with his entire weight, his expression somewhere between blood red dread and frustration. "What the hell happened?! I was gone for twenty minutes, man!"


    Lucien swallowed hard, his mind finally forming a single constructive thought, one that wasn¡¯t steeped in pure terror.


    That was a good question. How had this happened, and how had he returned to his apartment? He had been somewhere else. In a void of infinite possibility, pure being, endless darkness.


    Yet now, his memory was a void. There was nothing, except the endless stretch of time slipping away, stretching space infinitely, leaving the single echoing tone of what should have been a click before his world had felt silent, collapsing into black.


    He tried to speak his mind, his voice croaked as his mind finally snapped, plunging him into darkness.


    -----


    "We¡¯re in position. Awaiting orders, sir. Over."


    Lorien¡¯s grin widened, his yellowed canines glinting behind his pale upper lip. Around him, six figures crouched in the shadows, waiting. Not a word was spoken, only the weight of expectation hanging between them. He let the silence stretch, feeling the tension coil like a spring.


    "Let¡¯s do this."


    They all knew what to do. No hesitation, no nerves¡ªjust purpose. Lorien lifted the ancient walkie-talkie to his mouth, barely above a whisper.


    "Now."


    The plaza remained still for half a second, as if the entire world had sucked in a breath. Then everything snapped loose at once.


    A suppressed shot sliced the air, and the guard in the security booth jerked back, a spray of dark mist smearing the inside of the glass. His body slumped forward, his temple a ruined mess, one hand still limply gripping his gun. At the same instant, Demi tapped Enter on his laptop. Every light across the Central Hub flickered and died. The surveillance feeds cut to black.


    For a brief, hopeful moment, the hum of backup generators rumbled to life. Then, just as quickly, they sputtered and went silent¡ªcut down by Demi¡¯s script faster than an investigation into Jeffrey Epstein¡¯s client list.


    "Good work with that, Demi. I guess you¡¯re not entirely useless," Lorien muttered, clapping him once on the shoulder before lifting the walkie again.


    "Go, go, go."


    The first wave of operatives emerged from underground, manhole covers scraping aside as they poured into the streets in disciplined silence. Boots hit pavement. No shouting, no wasted movement, just bodies moving like a black tide toward the service entrance. The glass from the security booth crunched underfoot as Lorien jogged past, sparing only a glance for the nearly headless corpse slumped over the desk.


    "Come on, charges¡ªfast!" A hushed voice carried through the dark as they reached the main gate.


    One of the fighters was already on it, his fingers moving with practiced urgency as he fished a compact thermite charge from his pack and affixed it to the locking mechanism. Someone muttered an impatient command, but the demolitions expert barely spared them a glance.


    "Shut the fuck up, I¡¯m moving as fast as I can. There."


    A blinding white-orange light flared to life, heat radiating outward in waves. The metal groaned, curling away from the core of the blaze, the acrid stench of scorched steel rising into the windless night. Within seconds, the locking mechanism failed, the last remnants of the hinges dripping molten slag onto the pavement.


    "Come on, come on," someone muttered, sweat beading on their brow.


    The moment the lock clattered to the ground, three men threw their weight against the heavy door. It screeched as it gave way, metal scraping against concrete before slamming open. The breach was instant. Black-clad figures surged inside, rifles low and ready, sweeping through the dimly lit loading dock with swift, machine-like precision.


    Lorien took in the space at a glance¡ªa vast, high-ceilinged depot, its walls lined with industrial shelving. A yellow steel walkway stretched above them, leading to the freight elevator that connected to the underground conveyor network, the beating heart of the city¡¯s supply chain. If they timed this right, the Brotherhood¡¯s strike would bring the entire system to its knees.


    "You," Lorien snapped, pointing to a bulky figure. "Get the door back into position." He turned slightly, fixing his gaze on a leaner silhouette. "Assist him. Immediately."


    Then¡ªmovement in the dark. A sharp inhale. The scrape of metal on concrete.


    A gunshot exploded through the enclosed space, the bullet slicing past Lorien¡¯s face so close he felt the heat sear the air. The pressure in his ear popped, the shockwave rattling through his skull. But before the shooter could take another breath, death answered.


    A loud whoosh carved through the air, as a half-meter of sharpened rebar blasted through the dark, slamming into the guard¡¯s chest with a wet, crunching impact. Bone splintered like dry kindling. The sheer force tore him from the ground, lifting him into the air as the rebar punched clean through his ribcage, its jagged tip exploding from his back in a shower of blood, viscera, and shattered vertebrae.


    For half a second, he hung there, impaled mid-air, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. Then the weight of his own ruined body dragged him down, but the rebar held, wrenching him to a sickening stop just above the floor. His organs or rather. what was left of them hadn¡¯t made the journey with him. A slick mess of shredded lung, pulped heart, and glistening strands of intestine slopped wetly onto the concrete below, the heat of his insides steaming in the cold air.


    The guards gun fell out of his limp hand onto the ground with a hollow clatter. His corpse twitched once, a final, pathetic reflex.


    Lorien didn¡¯t hesitate as he hurried forward. His senses were razor-sharp, every nerve alight with survival. The stench of blood and burnt metal thickening the air. He grabbed the gun and looked to the others ¡°No time to linger, bring the bags¡±


    His rebar-rifle was still warm, reassuring in his grip as he pressed forward, boots splashing through fresh blood. The Brotherhood moved in tight formation, shadows flickering against bare concrete walls.


    Moving down a service corridor towards the center of the complex, they reached a T-junction. The point man pressed against the wall, breathing steady, raising his pistol like contraption, that fired 5mm steel balls. He moved carefully, inching forward, revealing the corridor in small increments. His barrel tracked left, sweeping across dim service lights and exposed pipes, nothing seemed amiss.


    He shifted to the right. Another slow, methodical movement and peered down the corridor.


    The point man¡¯s head snapped back, as a bullet blasted through his skull. a mist of crimson and brain spraying the wall behind. He collapsed, his contraption clattering as his body hit the floor.


    Lorien moved quickly to take point. Before the corpse had fully settled, he pointed the guards gun out from the wall and fired a couple of rounds blindly down the corridor. Bullets bouncing off the hard concrete surface, multiple finding their target. A scream of pain ran out. Lorien jumped sideways, laying in the middle of the corridor, as he turned on his flashlight, and fired another round into the light cone. The screaming instantly stopped and was replaced with a loud thump as the defender of the central hub crashed into the ground.


    "Clear," he called called out, but the moment was already over. They were moving again.


    Lorien stepped over the body, barely glancing down as he passed his half empty pistol to the first and best brother, and picked up a new.


    The Brotherhood surged forward. More corridors. More resistance. The deeper they pushed, the more desperate the defenders became. Some fired until they ran out of bullets, then dropped their weapons and begged. Others fought to the last, screaming incoherent defiance as they were gunned down. A few tried to hide, pressing themselves into dark corners, their breath trembling in their chests as they prayed to be overlooked.


    None of it mattered.


    The Brotherhood moved as one, sweeping through the hallways, their makeshift armory quickly replaced with advanced weaponry, their path marked by bullet casings, shattered glass, and blood-slicked floors.


    Then finally they reached the center of the hub.


    An elevator stood before them, pristine and untouched, a stark contrast to the destruction raging through the facility. The stainless steel reflecting the flashlights.


    "Get hacking, Demi!" Lorien barked, shoving the small gremlin of a man toward the control panel.


    Demi scrambled to work, yanking out an electric power tool and rapidly unscrewing the panel. Within seconds, he had a portable device wired into the system, his fingers flying across the interface, desperately trying to force the elevator to respond.


    "Nothing¡¯s working, sir!" Demi whimpered.


    ¡°What!¡± Lorien boomed. Only to let out a snort, realization dawning. "Oh, right!"


    Chuckling to himself, he smacked his forehead lightly, to cover his mistake in humor, he reached for his walkie-talkie.


    "Ey, Bee, turn the goddamn power back on for the elevators, then get the fuck over here double time, the ship¡¯s sailing. Over"


    Barely five seconds passed before the hallway flickered to life, bathed in a soft white glow. Golden-framed paintings lined the walls, their elegant stillness at stark odds with the chaos unfolding.


    Lorien turned to Demi, grinning.


    "Sorry ¡®bout that, Demi." His voice held a lazy chuckle, smooth and almost soothing, but his grin, Demi swore, was more unsettling than his usual scowl.


    Then, just as suddenly, the grin vanished, replaced by a furrowed snarl.


    "Now, pretty please," his voice dropped to a dangerous growl.


    "Get the fucking elevator running."


    With the power restored, it took only a few minutes to bring the elevator fully online.


    A soft ¡®Pling¡¯ broke the tension as the doors whisked open, just as Bee came bolting down the hall way ¡°Brothers, we¡¯re busted! They¡¯ve sent everyone! Prepare the defenses, and hold them of for as long as you can.¡±


    He had only just finished his sentence, as an alarm started blaring out over the long hallway.


    Lorien quickly stepped inside the elevator, four other Brotherhood members including Bee following close behind, carrying large dufflebags. He slammed his fist against the button marked -10.


    Nothing happened.


    Lorien¡¯s eyes shot lightning at Demi, his expression a brewing storm.


    "Don¡¯t worry, boss, I got you!" Demi stammered, his voice barely audible over resounding alarm, frantically working the device. "Just needed the input from the button to unlock the command and bypass the security. Closing doors!"


    The elevator doors slid shut, sealing them in.


    Then, with a sudden lurch, the elevator rushed downward, plunging them into the depths of the city.


    ¡°Hurry brothers, Get the suits on!¡±.


    -----


    Serene golden sunlight poured in through the panoramic window, casting long streaks across the sterilized gray vinyl flooring. The steady beeping of a machine was the only sound in the room, apart from the soft rustling of fabric as Lucien shifted in the medical bed.


    He turned onto his side, gazing out over the city¡ªacross the lush parks, beyond the sleek hydroponic tower stretching into the sky. The top of the tower vanished from view, obscured by the its sheer size compared to the floor to ceiling window.


    His head ached, but even worse, it itched. The gauze wrapped tightly around his temple prevented him from scratching, trapping the irritation just beyond reach. He didn¡¯t want to touch the wound itself, just the edges, where the itching was maddeningly persistent.


    He tried rubbing the bandages, hoping for even a small sense of relief, but the sensation only sent ghostly, painful stabs through his body, doing nothing to quell the itching. With a frustrated sigh, he clenched his teeth and forced himself to ignore it.


    The city sure is beautiful in the summer, he thought, his eyes drifting across the south lane, following its path toward the industrial complex. Beyond that, where the forests and fields should have been, the curvature of the Earth blended with the morning fog, rendering the distant landscape invisible, swallowed by the horizon.


    As the sun passed behind the hydroponic tower, the light in the room shifted, filtering through the tubes filled with organic material. A soft green glow spread across the walls, turning the sterile white interior into something warmer, almost ethereal.


    Lucien sank deeper into the pillows, his mind drifting, unraveling. The outlines of his subconscious flickered at the edge of his memory, fragments of his unconscious state popping back into his mind, as he had lied bleeding out on the dirty floor.


    A figure, or perhaps an entire army had descended upon him.


    They had fought off hordes of dream denizens, their movements blurring between battle and rescue, shielding him while they dragged his limp body away from the vast, purplish plane where he had been stranded.


    The door clicked, breaking his train of thought, shattering the vivid imagery still lingering in his mind. It opened silently, slow and hesitant, and then, a woman¡¯s head poked inside, her gaze locking onto his.


    "Mom!"


    Lucien tried to sit up, tried to reach for her, but the moment he moved, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, dragging him right back down.


    His mother rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him in a careful yet desperate embrace, holding him as tightly as she dared. She buried her face against him, her muffled cries rising softly between them.


    "Lucien, what happened?" she stammered, her voice trembling, her eyes shining with worry.


    As best he could, he told her everything¡ªor at least, everything he understood. The incident. The strange dreams. The sense of something bigger looming over him.


    But as they spoke, his thoughts drifted to something far simpler.


    Something that mattered just as much.


    ¡°It¡¯s been so long, Mom.¡±


    His voice was quieter now, almost fragile. When he looked at her, there was sadness in his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ve really missed you.¡±


    With great effort, he sat up, leaning forward to hug her again. This time, he held on a little longer.


    They talked for a while¡ªabout everything and nothing. It had been nearly three years since he had last seen her. Lucien tried to talk to her about programming, but quickly stopped himself as he could clearly see that she was only listening out of courtesy, not interest


    She lived in another city, nearly five thousand kilometers southeast, in what had once been the Yunnan province of China. With the sheer amount of work and study they both had, there simply wasn¡¯t enough time in the world to visit regularly¡ªor to spend eight hours on a train just to see each other.


    Yet now, she was here.


    Lucien frowned slightly, a thought tugging at him.


    ¡°How did you get here so quickly?¡± he finally asked.


    His mother¡¯s brow creased.


    ¡°What do you mean, honey? I¡¯ve been here for days.¡±


    Lucien¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°¡­What?¡± His voice barely left his lips. ¡°How long have I been out?¡±


    His mother¡¯s face softened with sorrow, her gaze holding his.


    ¡°Two weeks, give or take a day,¡± she murmured. ¡°We all knew you¡¯d wake up eventually, but¡­ your injuries were severe. They had to operate. Your chip had shattered into your skull.¡±


    Her voice caught, throat tightening. ¡°They spent hours¡­ removing the pieces. They even had to refit you with a new port¡±.


    She lifted her shaking hands to her swollen eyes, wiping away the fresh tears. Lucien watched her closely, and for the first time, he noticed how old she suddenly looked.


    The deep furrows around her eyes.


    The silver strands creeping into her dark hair.


    A sudden realization settled over him.


    ¡°Mom¡­ have you stopped taking the medication?¡± he asked quietly.


    Her eyes darted to his, locking onto him sharply. She paused for a moment, then came a slow nod.


    ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯ve decided it¡¯s time.¡±


    Lucien swallowed hard, staring at her, his own eyes starting to swell.


    "Are you sure about this, Mom? Are you truly ready to lay down your life for another?"


    She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.


    "Arh, Lucien, don¡¯t be such a worrywart." She waved a hand dismissively, a playful smirk crossing her lips. "I¡¯ve easily got another fifty years before I¡¯m actually old. You won¡¯t be getting rid of me that quickly!"


    She laughed, grabbing his face in both hands and planting a big, smoochy kiss on his cheek.


    ¡°But thank you for worrying, nonetheless.¡±


    Her eyes were full of love, as only a mother can look at her child. She sat back, watching him carefully, tilting her head.


    ¡°Are you ready to see the doctor now?¡±


    Lucien exhaled, nodding.


    "Yes."


    His voice was quiet, but determined. He pressed his palms into the bed, straightening himself up as much as his body would allow.

 Chapter 3

    Hooves pounded against the broken asphalt, a living shadow weaving through the ruins of a forgotten city, breaking the eerie silence with its rhythmic beat. It duck down and hid under a small bluff.


    Virginia Creeper, English Ivy, Wisteria, and countless smaller growths climbed and draped over the crumbling concrete roof, offering a momentary sanctuary. Small rays of sunlight pierced the canopy, casting dappled gold and green hues over the shadows tense, heaving form. Its ears twitched, body coiled, every muscle wired for survival.


    A twig snapped.


    The shadow exploded from cover, dodging and weaving through the thicket of bracken ferns, dandelions, birch, and elder trees popping up from the scars on the cracked concrete road like a ghost of the undergrowth. It zigzagged across, its hooves lightly striking concrete where nature had not yet won.


    Black and gray boulders, shattered window frames, and twisted metal littered the old road. Rusted rebar stabbed upward from the debris, turning every step into a fight for life itself.


    Yet, the liquid shadow glided through the skeletal remains of the city, untouched by the chaos of man¡¯s forgotten empire.


    An effortless leap carried it over the rubble, landing smoothly onto an old gravel trail. Rusted iron fences framed the path, leading into a dense, untamed forest. In the distance, an overgrown geodesic dome loomed, its fiberglass panels still intact, yet smothered in moss and strangled by vines. A relic of another era, that had had once cradled exotic life from every corner of the world.


    The stag flew forward, muscles burning, heart hammering, freedom only a leap away!


    click.


    A rope snapped taut around its front legs, yanking the animal skyward, its world flipped upside down. It thrashed, kicking at the air as it swung beneath the canopy, bathed in a greenish glow where light filtered through the thick leaves of an ancient Oak tree.


    A chorus of panicked chirps burst from the treetops, wings slicing through the light-dappled canopy as the forest¡¯s as the mighty beast wobbled the leafy crown.


    ¡°Haha, I got it!¡±


    A light, triumphant voice cut through the forest, followed by the soft tap of leather-bound feet moving quick and precise. The stag kicked, twisting violently, fighting the rope with every ounce of its strength, but its struggles only made it swing harder beneath the canopy.


    A small, lean figure, swift as a cat, emerged from the undergrowth, her long black hair tightened into a ponytail. Her movements were effortless, calculated. As she got closer the stag lunged, antlers flashing toward her face, but she darted back without hesitation, unfazed, her knife already in motion, catching the dim green light as she stepped in.


    One fluid motion she closed the gap, seized the stag¡¯s head, and slit its throat.


    A whisper, barely audible over the slowing breath:


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, your fight is over, just relax and give in to the eternal dream¡±


    She held the beautiful strong animal, arms wrapped around its trembling body, almost tender, cradling it as a mother would her child before putting it to sleep. The blood came slow and steady, pooling at her feet, going back into the earth.


    -----


    Pling.


    The elevator doors slid open, revealing a vast underground expanse where rows upon rows of towering server stacks stretched into the distance, their blinking indicator lights flickering in rhythmic pulses like artificial constellations. The air was cold and sterile, carrying the faint metallic tang of ionized dust.


    Unlike most of the facility, this floor was kept on its entirely own closed electrical system, using a small tokamak reactor powering everything from the binary servers to the quantum storage unit, air conditioning and cooling.


    Overhead, thick bundles of insulated wiring ran in perfect alignment along the ceiling, branching out like the veins of an enormous digital organism. The sleek conduits glowed faintly at their junctions, forming a vast, circuit-board-like network that disappeared into the depths of the facility. Occasionally, a soft electronic hum rippled through the air, the very walls seeming to vibrate in response, as if the system itself was breathing.


    The five men stepped into a small glass-enclosed antechamber, a buffer zone between the elevator and the gargantuan databanks beyond. A decontamination sluice hummed quietly beside them, its vented nozzles ready to mist intruders with sterilizing agents. The thick, glass-like wall separating them from the servers was reinforced with a faintly blue shimmer, likely some kind of electromagnetic shielding to prevent interference.


    They were dressed in tightly fitted suits, at first glance resembling high-end wetsuits, though a closer look revealed a subtle texture of woven insulation and reactive fabric, designed for temperature regulation rather than moisture resistance. The fabric clung to their bodies, limiting loose folds that could generate static, an ever-present danger in a facility like this.


    A monotone female voice echoed across the chamber, calm, sterile, and devoid of humanity.


    Welcome to the EduNet Core ¨C The central intelligence hub for Edu-4.


    Please be advised that it is prohibited to bring any magnetic material into the server room. Furthermore, all personnel and guests must carry their ID tags visible at all times. Failure to do so may lead to severe bodily harm. The quantum area in the facility is restricted to all personnel without formal written authorization. Keep clear of all..."


    "Shut up, you automated piece of shit,"


    Lorien muttered, raising a compact 3D-printed device with an iron sight, aimed at the hidden ceiling speaker. A dull pop sounded as half a dozen aluminum pellets embedded themselves into the mesh grille.


    The voice stuttered for a moment before resuming, its pitch slightly distorted:


    Also, be advised that you must stay within the yellow lines at all..


    "Arrh, for fuck''s sake."


    Lorien sighed, grabbing two plastic chairs from under a nearby terminal, with his muscular arms he dragged one beneath the speaker. With a huff of frustration, he climbed up and began continuously stabbing with the second chair overhead, slamming its leg directly into the ceiling speaker.


    A burst of static and shredded audio crackled through the chamber.


    Scrrzt¡ªthe thssc quantum storage is maintainssc at an optimal temperatu¡ªscchhh¡ªof minus scchwohundred-zzzevencchythree degrees Celsiusszz. Proper sscrr protective equipmzzzz is mandacchory¡ªssccchhh¡ªto avoid potential frzzozzctbite. zzzhailure to comply may resssulcchz in lossz of¡ªsssccchhk¡ªlimb zzunction and deacchz.


    Lorien went rampant, smashing the speaker with ferocious strength, each impact send out small sparks of electricity, punctuated by an audible grunt of annoyance.


    "Mother¡ª" smack


    "Fucking¡ª" smack


    "Piece¡ª" smack


    "Of¡ª" smack


    ¡°Ro¡ª¡± smack


    ¡°botic¡ª¡± smack


    "Shit¡ª" smack


    "Shut¡ª" smack


    "The¡ª" smack


    "Fuck¡ª" smack


    "Up"¡ª¡° smack


    "Bitch¡±! CRACK!


    Each hit sent splinters of plastic flying, tiny shards of composite raining down, catching the glow of the server lights as they fell. The distorted voice warbled and stuttered, trying to complete its safety warnings, but finally¡ªafter thirty seconds of relentless destruction¡ªthe voice cut out entirely.


    The only sound left was the faint ambient hum of the servers beyond and the heavy breathing of the muscular man standing on a transparent plastic chair.


    Lorien exhaled, rubbing his forehead, small beads of sweat visible on his brow.


    "Much better."


    With a sigh, he lazily tossed the broken chair to the floor, climbed down, and collapsed into the other chair, panting, his head between his legs.


    His companions couldn¡¯t hold back their laughter, and for once, Lorien let his guard down, realizing just how stupid he must¡¯ve looked, standing on a blue plastic chair, screaming and beating a speaker to death like some crazed technology hating caveman.


    All five of them laughed briefly, a fleeting release of tension, before snapping back into focus as if nothing had happened.


    "Let¡¯s go, brothers!" Lorien declared, his booming voice cutting through the cold air.


    In unison, they pulled on their frost resistant combat helmets, securing the hoses to the oxygen canisters strapped to their backs, the setup making them look less like intruders and more like a group of divers preparing for descent.


    Bee had already begun hacking the Quantum Resonance scanner, to a point where the system would always return a positive check. He knew exactly how they worked, as he had been on the team that developed the software. Bee quickly got access and uploaded the new software, deleting the old. The whole ordeal taking no more than five minutes.


    A tall, slim man stepped forward, approaching the decontamination sluice. Beside it, a type of scanner stood idle, its matte black screen waiting for input. He slung his duffel bag onto the conveyor belt before stepping inside the spherical chamber.


    The transparent, half-spheroid door spun shut behind him, sealing with a soft mechanical hiss. A set of LED''s flickered red, followed by the sharp hiss of sterilizing gas flooding the small chamber. The sound echoed unnervingly in the enclosed space, a high-pitched whine that seemed to pierce through the walls.


    Meanwhile the bags were being scanned for anything


    A moment later, the lights flicked green.


    "Decontamination process complete."


    Another detached, synthetic voice announced from a speaker above. The sluice door unlocked with a low click, granting access to the vast underground expanse beyond.


    One by one, they passed through the sluice and scanner, until they stood on the other side of the perimeter, deep within EduNet Core.


    Lorien glanced up at a digital clock mounted above one of the seemingly infinite pathways, its red numbers glowing against the sterile white light of the facility.


    No need to rush, he thought, then motioned for the others to follow.


    They moved in combat intervals, rifles low but ready, eyes scanning the empty corridors. There was no reason to expect resistance here¡ªthis level was restricted to only a handful of engineers and scientists, the select few who kept the plant running.


    But with the hub on high alert, it never hurt to be prepared.


    -----


    Demi hunkered down, pressing himself against the side of his own personal makeshift barricade, made out of a single steel table, his fingers flying over his device.


    From his position near the elevator, he had to constantly decline requests for the lift to be brought back up from EduNet to the upper levels, ensuring it remained locked in place on that floor, preventing his team of getting flanked.


    Looking over his shoulder, he saw his team with their larger collective barricade, where his brothers and sisters held the defensive perimeter, weapons raised, their sights trained on the projector lit hallway ahead, blinding anyone trying to make an offensive move. All the dufflebags had been emptied, weapons assembled and ready.


    A voice shrieked through a megaphone, faintly echoing against the concrete walls, more room than actual dry sound.


    "This is the Edu-4 special forces, surrender now! We have you completely surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"


    Silence.


    Then, from behind the barricade, a sharp, defiant voice cut through the air.


    "Go fuck yourself, circuit worm!"


    Laughter rippled through the barricade, a woman¡¯s voice venomously echoed through the hallway a second after.


    "Come and get us, you fucking pussies!"


    They all knew what they¡¯d signed up for. This was a fight to the death. One that they might just be able to win if they just focused and were lucky. They just had to hold the perimeter long enough for Lorien to complete his mission, and then in their minds eye, Edu-4 would be one step closer to experience true freedom, a worthy sacrifice.


    The hallway fell completely silent again for a while, the brotherhood checked their gear one last time, they were as ready as the could be. Then, a quiet staccato rhythm began echoing out, like a horse trotting, followed by the sound of mechanical pistons rising louder and louder down through the hallway. Getting closer and closer, while picking up the pace. A sharp metallic scrape cut through the air, the unmistakable sound of metal raking against stone, faster now, the sound of something running at full speed. Something moved in the shadows ahead, a blur of shifting shapes, slowly coming into view of the mounted projectors. An eerie metallic looking exoskeleton of a creature about the size of a shepherd dog.


    ¡°Robots! Take defensive actions!¡± The battle-masters¡¯ voice boomed out over the group.


    A dozen members of the brotherhood quickly bolted forward to take cover behind the haphazardly assembled barricade comprised of everything the service level of the central hub had to offer. In the bottom, metal tables, office chairs and planters bound with barbed wire, made a near impenetrable wall. Above, everything wooden from storage cabinets and even a conference table were stacked on top of each other. The barricade extended nearly four meters vertically, and covered the hallway from side to side.


    Each fighter gripped a crude metal spear, the tip glinting in the dim light, trailing a thick, insulated wire that snaked back toward the power unit standing firmly on the ground. The devices were ugly, makeshift things, that looked like someone had ripped a dozen fuse boxes of the walls, and placed them in the middle of the battle-zone. Two oversized cranks folded against their sides, now snapping outward like the unfurling limbs of some predatory insect. The wire and spear formed a deadly proboscis, making the whole thing look like a giant mosquito.


    ¡°Pump!¡±


    The battle-masters¡¯ voice rang out again and everyone was now either pumping or holding the spear.


    The air crackled around the brotherhood. Excitement, adrenaline and electricity formed an atmospheric soup.


    Demi, was still hunkered down near the elevator, tapping away, denying every request for the elevator to move.


    ¡°Prepare for fighting in 5!¡± the battle-master cried out. The sound of metal on stone grew louder


    ¡°4!, It¡¯s dogs! Get ready!¡±


    ¡°3!¡± The sound of the joints of the robotic creatures became audible over the heavy breathing of people preparing for war.


    ¡°2!¡± Demi bit his teeth together, focusing on his task ahead, trying not to get distracted at the battle that was beginning less than 10 meters from him.


    ¡°1!¡±. ¡°For freedom!¡± The brotherhood yelled, as the first metallic dogs came bolting through the hallway towards the barricade, their servos screaming as they leaped into the air, trying to traverse the barricade. Only to get stabbed with the long metal spears mid air.


    A massive piezoelectric charge surged fourth in an explosion of plasma. An arc of supercharged particles blasted out, frying their circuits instantly.


    ¡°Get fucking pumping, more is coming!¡± The Battle-master called out.


    The two dozen soldiers behind the barricades were already pumping all they could, sweat pouring of their skin, while the last dozen stood their ground, counting the seconds, as the rhythmic tramping of metal legs came bolting down the hallway yet again.


    The next wave vaulted the barricade, twisting mid-air to avoid the spears, instantly adapting from the former attack, hydraulic limbs snapping into lethal position, servos shrieking with the force of their momentum. The first three were struck mid-air again as the spears thrusted skywards, while two were cut down the second they touched down inside the perimeter. plasma bolts tearing through synthetic flesh, circuits screaming as overloads detonated inside their frames. But the sixth made it through untouched, landing hard, only a meter or so from Demi, stabilizers kicking in as it unleashed hell.


    A storm of machine-gun fire ripped through the three-man team that had failed to take it down, their bodies jerking violently as rounds punched through armor, muscle, and bone like wet paper. Blood sprayed against the barricade, their screams drowned out by the relentless roar of gunfire, then cut short as their bodies fell in torn, broken heaps.


    A spearman standing nearby roared in fury, launching his weapon with an overhead throw, giving it everything he had. The spear piercing through the air, slamming into the base of the machine¡¯s neck, making the machine stumble and lodging itself in place. But nothing happened.


    "PUMP!" he roared in anger at the two stunned comrades beside him, snapping them back to reality.


    They wrenched the cranks, hands fumbling as their adrenaline surged, barely gripping the sweat-slicked handles as they forced energy into the rod. A violent, uncontrolled arc of plasma leapt from the weapon, drilling into the machine¡¯s spine just as it turned to let out another burst, frying its core in an instant. It spasmed once, legs locking up, then collapsed sideways into the spreading pool of shredded bodies and steaming wounds.


    But the two men didn¡¯t stop pumping. The spear fell from the limp robotic pile of metal as the motors relaxed, into the rapidly expanding iron-rich pool of servo-fluid and blood turning into a conduit.


    The energy surged through it like a living thing, arcs of supercharged piezoelectric discharge dancing through the crimson pool. The water in the blood super-heated instantly, pressure building in milliseconds, vaporizing explosively.


    The room erupted in a burst of gore.


    Super-heated iron plasma and shredded organic matter detonated outward in a violent, chaotic spray, scorching everything in its path. The air filled with the sickening stench of burned flesh, the copper tang of liquefied blood hitting like a physical force.


    The two nearby pumpers turned at the last second, just in time to take face full blast of self-inflicted friendly fire filled with their old friends remains, now turned plasma.


    The iron plasma seared through flesh instantly, boiling eyes inside their sockets, skin peeling away in curling ribbons, nerves obliterated before pain could even register. Their bodies slumped backward, without ever getting the chance to scream, dead before they hit the ground.


    The spearman had taken cover behind a metal desk and had thereby been spared the explosion. He ripped his weapon free from the floor, ending the reaction. The walls no longer white, but covered in crimson gore, slowly sliding down the formerly pristine marble. Breath ragged, chest heaving, staring at the smoldering corpses of the men beside him. His knuckles whitened around the handle. But the sound of mechanical movements no longer existed which gave a second of reprieve.


    ¡°Is that all you got you bureaucratic cock suckers?!¡± the battle-master bellowed triumphant.


    But both the reprieve and excitement of battle, lasted only a breath.


    The air felt thick, the smell of iron and charred flesh everywhere, blood dripping from the ceiling four meters above them. Yet what got the rest of the brotherhood to widen their eyes in uncontrollable fear was neither the smell, nor the visual input. It was the sound.


    A sound of something whirring up, like a washing machine starting to centrifuge with a fistful of marbles inside it cut through the air like a guillotine.


    ¡°We surrender!¡± someone tried to cry out over the noise. But their desperate pleas either fell for deaf ears, or maybe they simple couldn¡¯t hear them over the ear-shattering racket.


    Then everything went completely still for a second. The silence deafening to everyone.


    ¡°TAKE COV¡ª¡±


    An enormous ray of supercharged particles blasted through the barricade, melting the iron and steel like plastic in a bonfire, annihilating everything in its path and drowning out the last words of the battle-master. The soldiers caught in the crossfire, were instantly deleted from reality, if they were lucky. While the unlucky were only strafed with the beam, cutting through them like they didn¡¯t even exist. Limps and torsos removed. The wounds seared shut instantly from the extreme heat.


    Screams rang out over the hallway, as the rain started to fall.


    Not of rain of water and sweet relief, but of molten metallic office furniture blobs, that poured down of the resistance against tyranny, their fortification turned into a new circle of hell, where instant death was preferable to the slow agonizing death of raining metallic substances.


    The blazing droplets came cascading down on them, a white-hot downpour that clung to fabric, armor and flesh. It melted its way through their defenses instantaneously. A few lucky one died immediately, reduced to twisted, blackened husks before they could even scream. Others writhed and convulsed, their skin sloughing away in molten sheets, nerve endings firing until there was nothing left to register the pain. A few and truly desperate turned their weapons on themselves, choosing a bullet through the head, rather than the agonizing death of raining metal.


    ¡°Stop!, STOP!¡± Demi cried, trying to deafen the sound of his partners in crime screaming out in agony. He had hidden behind the metal table set up to protect him from the fight. He alone was still unscathed behind his small one man fortification, he curled up into a fetal position and started crying. He could hear the screams die out as his friends died off and the footsteps of the armada slowly approaching.


    A hand grabbed his collar, yanking him off the ground and electrocuted him. His world went dark, the last thing he saw was the giant hole in the elevator, the wire seared through. He had done his job, the brotherhood would prevail. He was sure of it.


    -----


    The room smelled of disinfectant, a sterile blend of antiseptic and recycled air, doing little to mask the underlying scent of sweat and stale linens. Soft beeps from the monitors punctuated the silence, tracking Lucien¡¯s vitals with unrelenting precision.


    Across from him, the doctor leaned back slightly in his chair, rubbing a hand over the short buzz-cut of his red hair, his brow furrowed as he tapped absentmindedly against his tablet. He looked young, mid-thirties at most, but impossible to pinpoint. Sharp green eyes betraying a mind already cycling through possible diagnoses in his mind¡¯s eye. The stark white of his coat contrasted with his tired posture, the sleeves pushed up slightly, revealing lean, freckled forearms.


    He let out a slow breath before speaking.


    ¡°So... You¡¯re telling me you¡¯ve been having continuous nightmares for four years?¡± His gaze shifted between Lucien and his mother, as if gauging how much of that information was new to her.


    Lucien¡¯s mother sat stiffly beside the hospital bed, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles had turned pale. She barely reacted as Lucien nodded.


    ¡°And these nightmares started shortly after you moved to Edu-4 for your education?¡±


    Lucien hesitated before answering, glancing toward his mother. He had downplayed the details, leaving out the most disturbing elements, the feeling of something pressing into his mind, the whispers that bled into wakefulness. Yet, even with his vague explanation, she looked as if all the blood had drained from her face.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you call me?¡± she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°You could have talked to me about this. Maybe I could have helped you. I mean...¡±


    Lucien sighed, rubbing his temples, feeling the faint ridge of stitches hidden beneath the gauze at the side of his head.


    ¡°Mom, there¡¯s nothing you could have done. There¡¯s nothing anyone can do, I think. But I have talked to Jan, and he has been a huge help. I need to feel like an adult mom, I¡¯m nearly thirty. I¡¯ve also talked to a somnologist and neuroscientist, that might be able to help¡±.


    He caught himself before mentioning what they had planned, sparing her another breakdown, and sparing him the embarrassment of flushing at the thought of her.


    ¡°Or... I mean, she has helped me.¡± He forced a reassuring smile, though it felt hollow. ¡°She gave me some advice I¡¯m trying to follow.¡±


    His mother exhaled sharply, a sound Lucien knew all too well, a mix of frustration and disappointment.


    ¡°Lucien,¡± she said, her tone laced with restrained anger. ¡°You should have told me.¡±


    Lucien lowered his gaze, swallowing back his irritation. She was right... She was always right, but that didn¡¯t make the conversation any easier. His stomach twisted with frustration; a bubbling heat he knew wouldn¡¯t lead anywhere productive.


    ¡°I know, Mom...¡± he muttered, voice flat. The words felt like a concession, something said just to end the conversation.


    The doctor cleared his throat, cutting through the tension.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll be honest. Your head injury is my primary concern right now.¡± His tone had shifted, more clinical, though not unkind. He gestured vaguely to the side of Lucien¡¯s head. ¡°You suffered significant trauma when you collapsed. Your RFID port was shattered, which, unfortunately meant surgery.¡±


    The way he said it was so monotone and carefree, Lucien nearly got angry at him. But, he didn¡¯t say anything and his fingers instinctively traced the sore area behind his ear instead.


    ¡°We had to remove the fragments and replace it with a new unit.¡± The doctor paused, studying him for a beat, pointing at Luciens ear. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, honestly. If any of the pieces had been lodged deeper, we¡¯d be having a very different conversation right now.¡±


    Lucien nodded slowly, processing the weight of those words.


    ¡°So¡­ I blacked out and just smashed my head into my table?¡±


    The doctor¡¯s brow knit together, his fingers tapping twice against his tablet.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just a normal collapse,¡± he said carefully. ¡°Your vitals were erratic when emergency services got to you. Severe elevated heart rate, muscle convulsions, resembling a seizure, though not quite textbook.¡±


    Lucien¡¯s stomach sank. He didn¡¯t remember any of that, his mother paler than ever.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying I had a seizure?¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± the doctor admitted. ¡°But something triggered an extreme physiological response. Stress, maybe. Or something neurological.¡± He paused before adding, ¡°I¡¯m more concerned about what you experienced right before it happened.¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Lucien glanced at his mother. She was already looking at him, her concern unmistakable.


    The time dilation, space warping into impossible lengths. The voices speaking to him while awake, chanting. It had pressed into his mind like a living thing, whispering those words, he still felt the experience clearly in the back of his mind.


    Lucien hesitated. If he told the doctor that, what would they do? Lock him up in observation? Prescribe something to sedate him further? No fucking way.


    So, he swallowed the truth, carefully choosing his words.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember much, Jan left, and I went to get some coffee. Maybe I simply tripped...¡±


    The doctor didn¡¯t look convinced.


    ¡°Lucien,¡± his mother pressed.


    He clenched his jaw. ¡°I was just¡­ stressed. Maybe Jan and I overdid it with the research.¡±


    The doctor leaned forward slightly.


    ¡°What research?¡±


    Lucien immediately regretted saying anything.


    ¡°Just eeh, some programming things for school.¡± He forced a small, dismissive shrug. ¡°We¡¯re experimenting with AI generated computer games.


    The doctor exhaled through his nose but didn¡¯t push further. Instead, he scrolled through his tablet, glancing over something before speaking.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said, ¡°right now, I don¡¯t want you worrying about that. Your body just went through a significant trauma, and regardless of what caused it, you need to rest. I¡¯d suggest taking it easy for the next few weeks. No extreme stress, no strenuous work, and definitely no sleep deprivation.¡±


    Lucien suppressed a bitter laugh at that last part.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± the doctor continued. ¡°Whatever this is, we need to monitor it. If the episodes continue, you need to come back immediately. Understood?¡±


    Lucien nodded, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure if he meant it.


    His mother reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.


    ¡°Promise me, Lucien.¡±


    He forced himself to meet her gaze. She looked so much older than he remembered, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with age.


    He sighed, his voice quieter. ¡°I promise.¡±


    They looked at each other, and knew there was no truth in the words.


    -----


    A small fire threw a soothing light into the evening. It wasn¡¯t entirely dark yet. The sun hung low in the sky, its orange hews no longer carrying warmth.


    The small, scattered clouds lit on in a wondrous display of pink, orange and gray, while the sky went from a light blue to a deep purple. The city was slowly coming to rest, the last rays of light gently filtered through the dilapidated ruins leaves.


    Four people sat close together huddling for warmth on an old, rusted metal bench. They were laughing, telling stories about their day, and there plans for tomorrow, without a care in the world.


    ¡°We should return home soon¡±, a deep voice calmly announced after a moment of silence, looking at the retreating sunlight. ¡°It¡¯s getting dark¡±.


    ¡°Aw, come on dad, just a few minutes longer, just until twilight¡±.


    Every evening had this tiny dispute.


    ¡°Elara, listen to your father. We don¡¯t want to have this discussion every night. You know the night can be dangerous¡±. Her mother retorted with a sigh, picking her up and placing her arm under her legs as a chair.


    ¡°But it¡¯s so unfair mom! Anara is allowed to go out on her own and hunt. I want to be a hunter too!¡±. Elara said, yawning and rubbing her eyes as she laid her head on her mother¡¯s shoulder, slowly being bopped as she walked.


    ¡°I can do it you know; I¡¯m a big girl now!¡±


    ¡°Anara is twenty years older than you Elera. You¡¯ll get your own experiences soon enough. Putting you on your own path. But I do think it¡¯s sweet that you want to be just like your older sister¡± she caressed her child''s chin, as she walked, the skin still warm from the small fire.


    ¡°You did good today Anara¡±. her father looked down on her fair blond hair, as they walked besides each other.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you¡±. He re-positioned the stag on his shoulders with a small roll as he smiled to his oldest daughter.


    ¡°Thanks dad¡± she said with a smile, looking up at her brawny father. His full-grown beard and unkempt curly brown hair covered nearly his entire face hiding the wrinkles and scars from years of survival, gray streaks covered both his hair and beard.


    ¡°It was so cool! The trap worked far better than expected, I just had to startle the deer, and make it run into it.¡±. She laughed in excitement, playing the memory back inside her mind.


    They all moved together two by two. Stepping over various small crevices and dodging over broad roots, that ran over the pavement.


    The familiar voice of large granite slaps, covered by a thick layer of mulch told them that they would soon be home. Behind them, a straightened river ran slowly into the ocean only 2 kilometers to the east.


    They were heading for an old red brick building in two stories. Its broad fa?ade looming ahead, broken windows covered with plywood to keep the elements out decorated the exterior. As they got to the building, they ducked in through what had once been the main entrance, now partly collapsed.


    ¡°There you go¡± their mother said, as she put down Elera with a sigh so she could roam, ¡°home sweet home¡±.


    They didn¡¯t say anything for a short time as they waited for their father to cover up the entrance with a large piece of tarp to keep the worst moisture out, while Anara cranked up an old dynamo flashlight, extending a soft narrow beam of light into the dark old building, highlighting a wide stone staircase.


    As they went up, rows upon rows of metallic bookcases extending in long rows to both sides came into vision. They were all completely empty, the rotten remains of books long since removed from the interior of the buildings. It wasn¡¯t much but it was home.


    The roof was still intact. Bror and Io had hauled scavenged solar panels from different other locations in the city. Making them able to both cook and have light if need be.


    Anara ran over and flipped a switch turning on the light for an inner section of the building. The center of the library slowly blinked into existence, illuminated by a few jury-rigged bulbs running off old electric car batteries, wired through a makeshift inverter hidden behind the door of an out-of-function bathroom.


    The floors, once polished stone, were now covered with woven rugs and animal pelts, insulation against the creeping cold.


    In the farthest section of the library, where skylights still let in beams of sunlight during the day, Io had built a makeshift indoor garden, where she grew vegetables, herbs, and medicinal plants in salvaged containers.


    Against the walls, old bookshelves had been repurposed¡ªsome acting as storage, others rearranged to form partial walls, giving each person a small, private sleeping space.


    The beds were crafted from thick hides, stacked feather pillows, and layered blankets, either collected from hunts Bror and Io had carried out over the years, or from simply scavenging the old world.


    ¡°Athena, we¡¯re home!¡± Elera yelled with excitement.


    ¡°Hello Elera, how lovely to see you again¡± Athena answered calmly as she appeared standing on a platform in the dim light thrown by the small LED lamps hanging from the ceiling.


    ¡°Did you have a good day?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Anara caught a stag today, it was so cool!¡± Elera said, excited as ever to see her best friend, except for her sister of course.


    ¡°I used the trap you taught me¡± Anara beamed with pride, looking at her age old friend. Athena tilted her head slightly, pausing just a little too long before responding.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be¡± Athena said with calculated enthusiasm.


    ¡°That sure i-i-s something. Hello Anara, Hello Io, and..¡± her face slowly moved across the room finally getting a visual of the last member ¡°Hello Bror. How wonderful to seeee you too!¡± Athena made a small bow and remained motionless, her face settling into an idle expression.


    ¡°Good evening, Athena¡± Bror said, without looking up from his backpack. As he fished up a couple of toothbrushes, toothpaste and a bottle of fresh water. ¡°Tell us a bedtime story would you¡±.


    ¡°I¡¯d be delighted t-t-to. Now kids, what ki-ind of story do you want today?¡± She asked, her body and face twitching a little.


    ¡°I want to hear a story about space!¡± Elera exclaimed with excitement.


    The whole family chuckled ¡°Elera, that¡¯s what you always say!¡±.


    This was their private space, about 5,000 square meters of abandoned knowledge and silent halls. Yet they rarely used the rest of the building, only the entrance, the employee¡¯s changing room where they kept their clothes, Io¡¯s Garden under the large sunroof, and this central space.


    After brushing her teeth and listening to a story about Saturn¡¯s moon Titan. Bror got up and kissed his three girls. ¡°I¡¯ll go check the perimeter,¡± he said, looking at Io, who met his gaze with a soft smile and a nod.


    Without another word, he turned and stepped through the barrier of light surrounding their small sanctuary, his silhouette vanishing into the darkness beyond.


    Io shifted her focus back to the girls, looking knowingly at Anara ¡°Come on, Elera, time for bed. Say goodnight to Anara and Athena.¡± Anara lifted her little sister with practiced ease, wrapping her in a tight embrace before pressing a playful smooch onto her cheek.


    Elera giggled, hands moving sluggishly as she completed their secret handshake, her sleepy eyes barely keeping up with the motions.


    ¡°Goodnight, Athena!¡± she sang, voice thick with drowsiness as she waved.


    ¡°Goodnight, my little fr-friend,¡± Athena responded, her expression warm, though her attention had already shifted.


    As Anara gave her sister to her mother, she felt the weight of Athena¡¯s gaze linger on her, something almost calculating in the way she observed her.


    ¡°Are you ready to proceed?¡± There was something different in Athena¡¯s voice, something close to curiosity.


    Anara gave a slow nod, steadying herself before walking toward the old used bookshelves. Unlike most of the other bookshelves in the library. These were filled with knowledge. Rows upon rows of books, carefully placed behind a thin layer of plastic, protecting them from moisture.


    Nestled between the dust and vast tomes, she pulled out an object that to an outsider might have seemed trivial, a simple mesh net, barely noticeable in the dim glow of the library.


    Anara went and sat cross-legged on the thick bear hide rug, adjusting the net over her head with careful precision. The cool metal of its contact points pressed gently against her scalp, a familiar weight settling into place.


    She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes as she shifted into position, hands resting loosely on her knees. She looked at Athena one last time before closing her eyes, focusing on the back of her eyelids with widened curiosity.


    She could still hear the drips coming from somewhere far away, the gentle rustling of Io tucking Elera into bed. Bror¡¯s distant movements outside barely registered, his careful steps crunching against loose gravel beyond the walls of the old library.


    Even Athena remained, a silent presence in the background, her simulated form standing just beyond Anara¡¯s closed eyelids, waiting.


    But the more Anara focused inward, the more the physical world began to stretch and blur, its edges dissolving, losing weight. She let herself sink, slipping beneath the surface of her thoughts, not forcing the process but allowing it to happen naturally, the way a dream pulls you in when you stop resisting sleep.


    Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing without letting go. Small sprites started appearing before her eyes, disappearing when she tried to focus on them. She began drawing mental images of simple shapes and forms.


    Her fingertips twitched slightly against her knees, registering the fading sensation of rough fabric beneath them. The distant murmur of reality remained, but it no longer held dominance.


    Instead, her mind turned toward the darkness behind her eyes, where shapes flickered at the edges of her perception, ghosts of monochrome shapes moved before her eyes, concepts slowly forming and dissolving before they could take shape.


    She started simple with a two-dimensional rectangular surface and observed it float around as she moved her eyes from side to side, up and down, not intervening with her subconscious as it slowly morphed the width and length on it.


    She gave it another dimension, and observed the simple cube, floating before her eyes. Her eyes flickered, letting in a miniscule touch of reality, making the effort kept her composure, using her conscious mind to lightly nudge herself on the right path, without letting it take over and break the descend.


    The three-dimensional cube before her began twitching into more and more abstract shapes. Folding back into itself adding the fourth dimension to it. It morphed and moved extending its presence before her eyes. Creating the world of her desire before her eyes.


    She let her focus go and allowed the world before her eyes to form naturally, without her hindering the evolution. Then, without warning, a sudden flicker of light rippled beneath her, a soft pulse traveling outward in an unseen wave, she recognized the sensation immediately, as she saw the strings were coming into focus.


    A delicate web of connections wove itself into existence beneath her, each thread stretching into the infinite, shifting and coiling like a great, breathing entity. She floated loosely in the void balancing on the endless intersections of thoughts, memories, and subconscious whispers.


    The vast, monochrome landscape of her dream plane unraveled before her, twisting and curling like the frayed remains of an ancient spiderweb, its strands barely touching, fragile yet impossibly vast.


    She exhaled, steadying herself, allowing the space to become real without questioning it.


    The plane began to flicker, the world slowly collapsing. Don¡¯t focus on the illogical she thought to herself, as they took in another deep breath.


    ¡°Athena, I need your guidance¡± she said calmly, but audible in the world she had left behind, her voice temporarily rippling the fabric of what she observed.


    Athena¡¯s voice arrived without sound, the words forming not in the air, but within the dream itself. ¡°How may I be of assistance?¡± Anara turned her head slightly, glancing toward her friends materialized form, no longer bound to the small projection pad back in the library.


    ¡°Walk with me.¡± They moved together through the endless, shifting threads, small constructs appearing and vanishing with each step¡ªunformed fragments of thought, flickering images of things that never quite were.


    Anara reached into the void, shaping another simple cube in her palm, its surface shifting with color in a 3¡Á3 array, like the old plastic relic she had found years ago.


    She turned it absentmindedly, allowing the six colors to spread into the world. Letting the sensation of color ground her, she no longer had to focus on it.


    The unstable world before her shifting into perfect focus. ¡°Great manipulation, Anara,¡± Athena¡¯s voice cut through the distortion, neutral but firm. ¡°You are close.¡±


    She exhaled slowly in the conscious world, feeling the cool weight of the evening air fill her lungs, re-centering herself as the tremors in the dream plane settled, while simultaneously leaving her conscious behind.


    Athena watched her carefully, though her expression never changed. ¡°Now, create what we need.¡±


    Anara didn¡¯t think, she let the dream shape itself to the need. The space around them folded inward, shifting and condensing until, slowly, a door took form before her. It had no clear color, its faded, cracked paint peeling at the edges, its old wooden frame standing unsupported in the middle of nothingness.


    It was a plain old door. There was nothing fancy about it other than the fact that it was standing in the vast void of Anara¡¯s subconsciousness.


    The flickering of concept subsided around them, until the exceptionally ordinary door remained. Athena observed it in silence before speaking again. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re ready for this?¡±


    ¡°You know I have to move forward,¡± Anara murmured, the answer already decided. ¡°I need to wander the unified plane¡±.


    Athena didn¡¯t respond right away, but when she did, there was something almost hesitant in her words.


    ¡°You know I can¡¯t go with you,¡± she reminded her with concern. ¡°But I will wait here.¡±


    Anara nodded once, fingers tightening slightly before she reached forward, gripping the handle and pushing the door open.


    The moment it creaked inward, she was pulled through, a sudden momentum yanking her into the vast expanse beyond.


    Purple strings stretched infinitely before her, weaving and unraveling in a silent current, some glowing faintly, others pulsing like a heartbeat.


    She turned to glance behind her. Her own golden thread trailed into the void, tethering her to where she had come from.


    But ahead, a thicker strand twisted through the space, alive with movement, pulsating like something waiting to be touched.


    Anara observed the string for a while, it emanated a soft welcoming warmth in the otherwise stale void.


    It seemed to pulsate with energy, while the other strings around her, hanged docile. She slowly reached out to touch the string.


    Her finger slightly nudging it. A current of energy shot out and grabbed her arm, like a lasso tightening its grip around a target.


    She tried to fight it, but the more she fought, the more time started to dilate, and she was ripped inwards through the string, that opened like a giant mouth swallowing her whole.


    -----


    The park east/southeast of Lucien¡¯s apartment was bathed in golden light. The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm streams through the entire city, illuminating the gravel paths that lazily meandered through fields of wildflowers, legumes and trees. The air was still, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant trickle of a fountain blending into the hum of the city beyond the trees. Lavender and jasmine filled the air with their soft fragrance, and ripe Victoria plums hung in small clusters, their deep purple skins catching the light.


    As Lucien reached for a plum, a strange sensation tugged at the edge of his mind. A couple walked by with a stroller, the baby inside blabbering. It had been years since he had seen a baby and a stroller, and now here was an identical stroller, its Bordeaux fabric catching the rays of the Sun.


    He turned, stepping onto a narrow dirt path carved by countless shortcut-seekers. Ducking beneath the low branch of an apple tree, sprouting small fruitlets.


    He took a small leap over a ledge, dropping half a meter before landing in stride. Ready to move up a dried out swale on the other side of the decline.


    ¡°Hello.¡±


    A light, calculated voice greeted him from a bench, half-hidden beneath the apple tree with low its branches lazily stretching over the path.


    Lucien glanced at the speaker, she was a petite yet muscular woman, definitely a few years younger than him. Her eyes caught the veiled light, reflecting a deep blue color back at him. He nodded, hesitating.


    ¡°Eeh, hello yourself,¡± he murmured, still caught off guard by the unexpected greeting. He tried to smile, but it felt forced.


    ¡°Sorry, you eh, just startled me, I didn¡¯t see you there¡± he added quickly, biting into the plum. Juice trickled down his chin, yet somehow, the fruit lacked flavor. She just kept looking at him, sort of expecting him to say something more. His brow furrowed. ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d certainly hope so.¡± The woman¡¯s tone remained playful as she stood up, yet there was an edge of seriousness beneath.


    ¡°I mean, you kind of dragged me directly into this.¡± She gestured widely, pointing at everything and nothing at once.


    Lucien¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°What?¡±


    She suddenly lurched toward him, too close, invading his private space until the delicate contours of her cheekbones and her rose colored lips nearly touching his chin.


    She studied him, sniffed the air, her gaze flicking up and down his body. Then, with eyes wide and deep as a doe¡¯s, she met his stare. Then, without hesitation, she shoved him backward."


    ¡°Hey!¡± Lucien barked, stumbling a step away, nearly tripping up the swale. ¡°What the hell was that for?¡±


    ¡°Look at the clouds.¡±


    Annoyed, he exhaled sharply, ready to argue. ¡°What are you talking about... It¡¯s sun-¡±


    His words cut off.


    The golden sunset vanished. Above him, thick, swirling clouds devoured the sky, plunging the world into a dim, eerie twilight. The warmth of the evening was gone, stolen away in an instant.


    A sudden gust of wind rushed past, sending dry, brown leaves skittering across the ground.


    Lucien shivered. Something felt wrong.


    ¡°Weird, huh?¡± The woman¡¯s voice remained calm, but a hint of exasperation curled around her words. ¡°Brown leaves. In the middle of summer. And your plum..¡± She pointed at his hand.


    Lucien¡¯s gaze dropped to his hands. His fingers clutched nothing.


    His stomach lurched.


    ¡°The fuck is happening?¡± His breath came faster now, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Take a deep breath and relax,¡± she instructed, demonstrating as she lifted her hands beneath her chin, inhaling slowly. ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to tell you something, and you need to stay calm, okay?¡±


    Lucien gave a stiff nod, focusing on his breathing, yet kept his guard up as this beautiful, yet batshit crazy bitch had just showed him for no reason. The wind had begun to settle.


    ¡°Alright.¡± She exhaled. ¡°Here goes¡­ You¡¯re dreaming.¡± She spread her arms, motioning to their surroundings. ¡°And this? This is your dream. ¡°A slender finger pointed directly at him ¡°A nice, calm one, exactly how I want it to be. But!¡± She paused, letting the words sink in. ¡°I am not part of this dream.¡± Again, gesturing to the world ¡°I¡¯m here because you let me in, because you trapped me, and now, I need you to let me out again.¡±


    Lucien recoiled. ¡°What are you talking about, that doesn¡¯t make any sense?!¡±


    She let out a sharp breath, frustration creeping in. ¡°What do you think I¡¯m talking about? And how does this not make sense to you, your subconscious is completely open for anyone to enter, yet it¡¯s very hard to leave. This is your dream. You need to let me out.¡±


    Lucien shook his head. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what kind of game you¡¯re playing, but I don¡¯t want any part of it... I¡¯m not dreaming.¡± He turned sharply and walked toward his apartment door.


    ¡°Wait! Just one question,¡± the woman called after him, her voice laced with urgency and a hint of despair. ¡°And I promise, I¡¯ll leave you alone.¡±


    Lucien hesitated, glancing back.


    She met his gaze. ¡°Where are we right now?¡±


    ¡°What kind of question is that? We¡¯re in the Northeastern second ring park¡± he scoffed, throwing out his arm in irritation.


    The woman tilted her head. ¡°Oh okay. And is your front door usually right next to the park?¡±


    Lucien opened his mouth, then froze. Before him, his apartment building stood in the middle of the park, it had replaced a small kiosk dispensary that gave out ice cream and hot dogs.


    His pulse hammered in his throat. His fingers twitched. The world around him darkened, the colors quickly fading into a lifeless monochrome. Thin wisps of static shot through the landscape, eliminated the structures around them, distorting the edges of reality like signal noise on an old television creeping in from the sides. His mind felt heavy, reality began to fade to black as his conscious mind slowly waking.


    ¡°Hey¡ªhey! Relax!¡± The woman¡¯s voice wavered slightly, as if she weren¡¯t entirely sure how to handle the situation. Lucien was on the verge of self-induced panic. The landscape began crumbling further, the void of awakeness creeping through his dreamscape.


    In desperation, the woman stepped forward, got on her toes and kissed him with a strong passion, placing her hands on his cheeks. The taste of strawberries ripped Lucien back to his dream, his conscious mind shut down by a hopeful, slightly pornographic fantasy.


    ¡°I need you to listen to me,¡± she pressed, releasing his lips, her tone shifting to something steadier. ¡°Don¡¯t try to figure this out right now. Just focus on what feels right. Look at the flowers, see how vibrant they are? Can you hear the birds? The tickling on your lips?¡± She smiled softly ¡°Just focus on the sensations.¡±


    Lucien swallowed hard. Slowly, the static faded. The colors and structures slowly returning to the world.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she coaxed. Taking his hand ¡°Breathe slowly. Observe. Notice the world. Just go with the flow.¡± She let go of him. Took a step back and observed him. With an accepting nod she sat down into a perfect lotus position and patted the grass beside her. ¡°Come on. Sit with me.¡±


    The warping lines dissipated, as the midday sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the glade, and the deep forest ahead. The world steadied, rooted itself once more.


    Lucien exhaled, cautiously lowering himself onto the grass.


    The woman smiled faintly. ¡°Good job, and what a beautiful scenery.¡±


    She leaned back on her hands, tilting her face toward the sunlight, the layers of animal skin pressing against the soft curves of her chest, accentuating her form beneath the rugged fabric ¡°I¡¯m Anara, by the way.¡±


    -----


    ¡°Take cover!¡±.


    The sound of automatic gunfire echoed in the endless underground facility. Only to be replaced with the constant hum of servers grinding away.


    A black hooded brother in front of Lorien shot back, hitting the security guard in the chest twice, and his head ones. Killing him before he hit the ground.


    Lorien looked up at the disabled robotic turrets, hanging idly from the ceiling, sending a quick thought to Demi. He hated to admit it, but that ugly gremlin looking fuck knew what he was doing.


    ¡°Okay brothers! This is the final push, right around the next corner is the human machine interface. We¡¯re so close to our goal now¡±.


    A sudden whirring of propellers tore through the air, fast and closing in.


    "Oh shit! EMP grenade, NOW! Bee, cover the hardware!"


    Bee yanked a thin metallic blanket from his pack, its surface shimmering like liquid graphene as he flung it wide. The thing fluttered for half a second before dropping over the equipment, instantly sealing around it like shrink-wrap. With a practiced motion, he tossed the shoulder bag into the center and rolled the whole thing tight.


    Meanwhile another brother jammed his thumb into a pressure port on the grenade, arming it with a sharp mechanical click.


    A high-pitched whine spiked upward, the core humming violently as a pulse of blue light shimmered across its surface. The drone swarm was almost on them.


    Like a swarm of Enraged wasps, the drones ripped through the corridor. The first drone raced passed Lorien, calculating that the biggest threat amongst the intruders wasn¡¯t their leader, but something else entirely. The grenade.


    It slammed into the brother holding the EMP detonating on impact, leaving a crater of blood and gore where the head had been a second earlier. The grenade slipped from his hand as he fell lifeless to the floor, exploding a tenth of a second later, bathing the area in a sickly blue light for a split second.


    ¡°GET DOWN!¡± Lorien blared over the noise, throwing himself to the ground covering his head, as pieces of skull, three dozen drones and a mix of blood and brains came hurling through the air.


    With propellers still roaring away from pure inertia, the drones crashed into the first available objects on their path, ripping into exposed flesh and clothing, or skittering across the hard polished light-gray stone floor with noisy audible clanks.


    Just in front of Lorian, two of his best friends through the past five years were dead or dying.


    One knelt upright on his knees, his hands weakly clutching at his throat, but it was useless. Blood spraying from the gaping hole where his neck used to be, painting the floor in front him in jagged scarlet lines.


    The other had been pinned to the reinforced glass wall, several rotor blades buried deep in his torso. His skin hung in long, ragged strips, blood pouring in a steady stream from the wounds.


    His breath rattled, shallow and wheezing, his muscles spasmed in a futile attempt to flee, the man too far gone to scream, too weak to fight.


    Seeing red Lorien jumped to his feet, bolting down the corridor nearly before landing like a raging bull.


    ¡°Fucking bitches!¡± Lorien roared in a near nonhuman guttural scream, as he jumped to his feet, bolting down the corridor like a raging bull, with two pistols raised in front in of him in stretched arms. A modern gladiator filled with blood lust.


    A single shot cracked through the main corridor, the bullet whipping through the cold air like a spear, finding its mark in the exposed face of a peeking security guard.


    The man''s upper teeth shattered like glass, his mouth ripped apart in an explosion of bone and flesh. He collapsed backward, gargling on his own blood, hands clawing at the gaping hole where his jaw had once been.


    Lorien continued his enraged charge, as returning gunfire rang out in front of him, multiple bullets lodging themselves into Lorien thick body armor. He grunted in pain as he fired his guns, one of his ribs clearly broken. Both his guns clicked, the last bullet slamming directly into the man¡¯s skulls, killing him instantly.


    Lorien slammed into the bullet-riddled corpse still standing, hoisting it up as a makeshift shield while charging the last security guard wielding a machine gun. The human shield absorbed the brunt of the gunfire, but stray rounds ripped through Lorien¡¯s exposed legs, sending blinding spikes of pain through his nerves.


    He hurled the mangled body forward just as the machine gun clicked empty. Losing balance, he stumbled on his shattered legs, collapsing into a rough roll across the floor. The corpse crashed into the guard, knocking him off balance and sending him stumbling backward, until he plunged through a glass pane into the operator room.


    The guard scrambled to his feet, pointing his pistol at Lorien that laid sprawling on the blood covered floor.


    A piece of sharpened rebar ripped the air just over Lorien head. Lodging itself in the last standing security guard with a loud crunch. The shot tore his torso apart, hurling him backwards, his remains just missing the control panel by half a meter.


    Bee sprinted in, catching up to his fearless leader, who now lay on the floor, writhing in pain.


    ¡°Oh shit boss!¡± Bee stammered as he glided on his knees through Luciens blood, to hold his head up.


    ¡°Finish it!¡± Lorien blurted out, before going into a violent cough, spitting up blood. He pushed Bee away from him while pointing desperately at the terminal.


    Bee got up slowly, then rushed to the console, tearing away the graphene-coated shield he had used to protect his backpack from the EMP blast, just moments before everything descended into carnage.


    Before him, the quantum computer stood in eerie silence, a monolithic structure of polished alloy and intricate latticework, suspended within a vacuum-sealed chamber behind reinforced graphene-glass. Unlike the bulky, sprawling setups of the early 21st century, this model was sleek, compact¡ªits golden cryogenic plates stacked like an inverted chandelier, humming with unseen energy. Superconducting cables coiled around its core in elegant spirals, pulsating faintly with the controlled chaos of quantum states shifting at unimaginable speeds. The chamber itself was pristine, lit only by the soft, ghostly glow of embedded diagnostics flickering across the smooth inner walls. At its base, an array of optical processors and cooling systems quietly expelled streams of hyper-cooled gas, ensuring the qubits remained trapped in their delicate dance between existence and oblivion.


    He tore the backpack open, ripping the zipper off in the process, and pulled out a small hand-held device along with a near-perfect cube of smoky black material, its surface shifting subtly, as though light itself struggled to define its edges. It was unnervingly smooth, almost frictionless to the touch, and seemed to drink in the ambient glow of the failing emergency lights.


    He opened the box with utmost care, and pulled out a long strand of what looked writhing Play-doh.


    He pressed the doh into the crevice of the terminal. Its surface rippled like liquid mercury, shifting and molding itself to fit into the crevice with unnatural precision.


    Bee took his handheld device and began vigorously typing away on his device as the living goo moved around inside the terminal, writhing into the locking mechanisms.


    After what felt like ages, a firm click rang out from the terminal, and the lid became loose.


    Bee clenched his jaw, forcing himself to block out the chaos around him. He yanked hard on the panel, ripping the metal cover free from its magnetic locks, covered in the writhing metallic material. Beneath it, the exposed wiring glowed faintly, security tracers pulsing like a slow heartbeat, a final line of defense against intruders. He had seconds. Maybe less.


    Ignoring the flickering warnings, his fingers found the CatX cable, a high-density quantum-classical link designed to funnel petabytes of data per second¡ªthe city¡¯s neural spine. The key to everything.


    He hesitated, just for a breath, and turned his head.


    Lorien lay sprawled on the blood-slicked floor, his breath shallow, eyes locked onto him. He blinked slowly, watching his friend work. A weak, knowing smile curved his lips, though no words came. Blood seeped from his ruined body, pooling beneath him, reflecting the distant skylights high above.


    With a sharp click, Bee pressed the cable into his handheld device.


    // Establishing QCI Handshake...


    // WARNING: Unauthorized Access Attempt Detected.


    // Quantum SecureTrust v5.8 Active ¨C Certificate Challenge in Progress.


    ¡°Not for long¡± Bee muttered for himself.


    He launched a forged QCC, spoofing a valid identity from within the QNP stack. The system hesitated, caught between rejecting the request and authenticating the deep-encrypted key. For a fraction of a second, it wavered.


    That was all he needed.


    // Access Granted ¨C QCL Privileged Mode Engaged.


    ¡°GG no re, you piece of shit¡± He began to smile


    The QSS Interpreter spun up, translating raw classical binary commands into executable QIS sequences. At this level, he wasn¡¯t just interfacing with a computer he was hijacking the quantum cognition layer itself.


    He bashed in the final sequences.


    // Overwrite in Progress...


    The system screamed in protest! Bees device flashing with a ton of errors, warnings and messages, he quickly filtered the results to critical errors.


    // QNP ERROR: PROBABILIY WAVE COLLAPSE DETECTED


    // CORE QUBIT STATE DETERIORATION ¨C 67% STABLE


    // ERROR CORRECTION SATURATION EXCEEDED


    // SYSTEM FAILSAFE OVERRIDE ENGAGED


    The lights flickered as the quantum mainframe struggled against him, its probability lattice fracturing under the weight of corrupted logic gates. The cooling system dumped cryogenic stabilizers, desperately trying to prevent decoherence, but Bee had already passed the threshold.


    The QNP wasn¡¯t just failing, it was forgetting itself.


    Liquid helium started pouring out of the cooling tubes, instantly transforming into gas as it expanded into the chamber. The pressure in the vacuum chamber spiked, and even better the temperature rapidly started to rise. What had been a controlled low-pressure environment was now turning into a pressurized containment failure.


    Cryogenic fog billowed around the quantum core as the rapid phase transition from liquid to gas robbed the system of its last vestiges of stability. Sensors blared:


    // CRYOGENIC SYSTEM FAILURE ¨C PRESSURE ESCALATION DETECTED


    // CONTAINMENT BREACH IMMINENT


    // EMERGENCY QUENCH ACTIVATED


    The quantum core¡¯s superconducting circuits¡ªonce maintained at near absolute zero, were now flooded with thermal noise, accelerating decoherence at an uncontrollable rate. The delicate qubits, previously entangled in precise superpositions, collapsed into chaotic probabilistic states, corrupting any meaningful computation.


    Metal groaned under the expanding gas, condensation forming on the chamber¡¯s inner walls before crystallizing into fragile frost. The internal pressure surged past safety thresholds, triggering the automatic emergency venting sequence.


    Bee¡¯s fingers flew across the interface, overriding the emergency venting sequence before it could release the expanding helium gas.


    // EMERGENCY QUENCH OVERRIDE ENGAGED


    // MANUAL CONTAINMENT LOCK INITIATED


    // WARNING: PRESSURE RELIEF SYSTEM DISABLED


    A warning siren erupted as the containment system fought against him, trying to force open the vents. But Bee had already hijacked the quantum-classical interface, locking down the safeties. The system wasn¡¯t going to save itself.


    Inside the vacuum chamber, helium gas continued to expand, compressing against the reinforced casing. The cryogenic fog thickened, obscuring the quantum core as frost formed in jagged veins along the metal.


    CRITICAL PRESSURE ESCALATION ¨C STRUCTURAL LIMIT APPROACHING


    WARNING: QNP ERROR ¨C QUANTUM CASCADE STABILIZATION IMPOSSIBLE


    SUPERCONDUCTING FAILURE ¨C SYSTEM DECOHERENCE IMMINENT


    Bee clenched his jaw. He had seconds before the quantum brain crossed the point of no return. If the helium couldn¡¯t escape, it would keep heating, forcing the superconducting circuits to quench, dumping all stored energy into the system in a catastrophic feedback loop.


    The deep hum of the failing core resonated through the collapsing chamber, a vibration so intense it rattled the reinforced walls and sent hairline fractures through the thick glass panels. The emergency cooling systems had long since failed. The liquid helium, once carefully contained within the system¡¯s delicate infrastructure flooded outward in a violent surge, expanding into a thick, rolling mist that consumed the room, behind the thermal insulating glass. The fog clung to every surface, tendrils of vapor swirling like ghostly veins in the flickering light of the failing displays.


    A sharp metallic crack split through the air as the superconducting circuits, now pushed beyond their limit, finally gave way. One by one, they shattered, sending bursts of raw electrical discharge arcing through the dense mist. The control interfaces flickered wildly, warning displays flashing in meaningless, erratic sequences before fizzling into darkness. The once-sterile hum of precision-engineered systems was now a cacophony of groaning metal, screeching pressure seals, and the sharp, staccato bursts of components failing in rapid succession.


    The vacuum chamber, designed to house the quantum mainframe in perfect isolation, no longer held any control over the system¡¯s runaway decay. The internal pressures surged past critical levels, forcing apart the reinforced plating that had once contained the delicate infrastructure of the city¡¯s most advanced computational engine. Rivets and bolts snapped free from their housings, propelled outward at deadly velocities, ricocheting off the walls in sharp, clattering impacts.


    Bee tried connecting to his cloud storage, but found that he had been disconnected, as the servers began shutting down, cutting of any stored cloud information, that his RFID connected him too.


    At the chamber¡¯s core, the fusion reactor remained, its containment fields rapidly degrading as the finely tuned regulators that had kept it stable for decades, ceased to function. Without the quantum controls to balance its reactions, the reactor¡¯s internal plasma began to churn unpredictably, its violent, barely contained energy seething just beneath the surface of its magnetic confinement. The oscillations grew stronger, pulses of raw heat pressing outward against the thinning walls of its containment vessel.


    Then, the final barrier failed.


    The rupture was instantaneous. The magnetic fields collapsed in a cascading failure, and in less than a millisecond, the plasma, hotter than the core of a star. erupted outward. The explosion didn¡¯t spread in a blast wave but in a pure, radiant burst, a lance of nuclear fire spearing through every level of the EduNet Core, vaporizing steel, circuitry, and flesh alike.


    Bee watched solemnly as the massive blinding light of nuclear holocaust came racing towards him at an alarming speed. Pride written all over his face.

 Chapter 4

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


    Edu-4, 08:45 Local Time (GMT+1) ¨C 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 ¨C 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¡ª"


    "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¡ªit¡¯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¡ªhigh-capacity junctions, intake converters¡ªeither 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¡ªlike 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¡ªregrettably, 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¡ª"


    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¡ªbut 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.

 Shorts - Prologue

    Prologue


    There is a moment before waking from a dream that always feels strange. Two realities clash together, one obliterating the other. The mind lingers in that void for a while, suspended between one reality and the next, caught between the subconscious world of dreams and the conscious waking world waiting just beyond the edges of awareness.


    Falling asleep is no different. You close your eyes, pretending to sleep, waiting for unconsciousness to take hold. And then, at some imperceptible moment, it does. But there is no threshold, no clear boundary marking the transition. No single point where wakefulness ends, and sleep begins. Only the slow unraveling of thoughts, like threads slipping through your fingers.


    Yet, despite this seamless descent, you never truly know you¡¯re asleep until you wake. Dreams dissolve into absurdity the instant consciousness reasserts itself. It¡¯s only in the fleeting seconds before waking, when the remnants of dreams cling stubbornly to reality, that the two states overlap. A delicate moment where you exist in both worlds at once, where the dream still makes sense, and waking life feels just as distant. It is then, and only then, that you might pause and wonder, just for a heartbeat, if the dream was ever the illusion at all.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    When a person dreams, the mind turns inward and forgets itself as it drifts into unconsciousness. It constructs a world from within, shaping landscapes, people, and events out of thought alone. But the mind doesn¡¯t observe this world from the outside. Instead, it steps inside, embedding itself within the dream, assuming the role of a singular presence through which the dream is experienced. From this perspective, the inner workings of the mind no longer appear as thoughts but as an external reality, a world that feels as tangible as waking life.


    Unlike the conscious mind, which anchors itself to a single point of awareness, the subconscious is not bound by such limitations. It manifests across multiple perspectives at once, inhabiting different figures within the dream, experiencing its own imagined world from multiple vantage points simultaneously. In this way, the dreamer becomes both the observer and the observed, the architect and the inhabitants, scattered across the vast terrain of their own unconscious creation. The only limitation exists in the wisdom of the individual, as neither the conscious nor subconscious mind can imagine something it has not experienced beforehand.

 Shorts Chapter 1.0

    The air was thick, heavy with the weight of something unseen, pressing in like the hush before a storm. A faint metallic tang clung to the silent room, mixing with the stale scent of sweat and damp fabric. Sheets twisted around a restless body, clinging to the wet skin, ensnaring the body in a firm grip, unwilling to release its grasp.


    The presence that felt like a thought without form or meaning conceptualized in the mind of the man wrapped tightly in the soaked prison. An idea that didn¡¯t truly belong. It pressed against the edges of awareness, shifting like a half-remembered dream, bleeding into the waking world.


    The moment he tried to focus on it, it retreated, dissolving into the shadows pooling at the edges of the room. Yet, its presence remained, not fully gone, yet never fully real. It lingered, pressing against his mind like an unfinished thought, like a task left incomplete before sleep. Something pulling at the edges of him, faint as a breath against the skin, an intangible pressure on his being, just beneath perception.


    Come with me


    Lucien sprang awake, his chest heaving, sweat trickling down his suntanned skin, pooling into the damp mattress beneath him. The cooling moisture clung to his back as he sat up, breath ragged.


    Shadows twisted in the corners of his room, retreating the moment he tried to focus on them. Only now did he realize he was still screaming.


    A sharp gasp tore from his throat as he forced air into his lungs. Trembling, he ran a hand through his curly brown hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead.


    His fingers cramped as he reached for the bedside lamp, flipping it on with a shaky breath. The dim light spilled lazily across the cluttered room, its glow barely enough to push back the remnants of his nightmare.


    His bed was soaked, his throat parched, his head pounding like a war drum.


    With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge and stood, peeling the damp sheets away from his skin.


    He could never remember the dreams, not fully. But the terror always lingered, an aftershock that left his muscles aching, his lungs tight, the phantom weight of something crushing his chest.


    Even now, awake, he could still feel them lurking just beyond his vision, as if watching from the shadows, waiting.


    The door creaked open, spilling a sliver of warm light from the living room into his nightmarish tomb of a bedroom. The shadows hesitated, clinging stubbornly to the edges of the walls.


    "God damn, man," came the familiar, teasing voice of his roommate, thick with sleep. "With a voice like that, they should station you as an air raid siren." A yawn followed, then a pause. "Did you piss the bed or what?" His tone carried the usual mix of playfulness and mild disgust.


    Lucien rubbed his eyes and looked up, meeting Jan¡¯s perpetually drowsy gaze.


    "Shut up, Jan," he muttered, voice rough. "It¡¯s just sweat."


    Janus¡ªthough no one ever called him that, not even his parents¡ªleaned against the doorframe, his finger briefly touching the back of his ear, blinking a few times, his blond brows lifted slightly.


    "Ah, fuck it. It¡¯s already half past six. Get ready; I¡¯ll make some coffee. Come out when you¡¯re done, bedwetter." He yawned again, turning toward the kitchen.


    Lucien grabbed his balled-up sheet and threw it at him, but it unfurled midair, drifting uselessly to the floor like a deflated ghost.


    His room was as uninspiring as ever¡ªboring white walls, a mass-produced gray closet, a black desk, a chair, and his stationary PC, which he barely used anymore.


    The only real signs of life were the ever-growing tower of empty energy drink cans and the mountain of unwashed clothes in the corner, both silently begging for attention.


    With fresh linens on the bed, he got dressed, only to realize he was out of clean socks.


    He sighed, dug through the pile, and settled on the least offensive used pair he could find, and got into the living room. Getting handed a tumbler filled with freshly brewed coffee.


    ¡°Thanks man, it¡¯s just what I need¡± Lucien said with a smile. ¡°We really need to clean up the apartment though¡±. He looked around at the cluttered living room. ¡°It smells like something died in here¡±.


    Jan looked up from his own cup ¡°I think that¡¯s just the smell of your socks dude¡±.


    Not long after, they were heading out of the apartment.


    As they passed the blue screen at the foot of the stairs, they both beeped themselves out. The scanner chirped in acknowledgment.


    "Maybe you should talk to someone about these dreams," Jan said in deep thought. "I mean, you¡¯ve had them as long as I¡¯ve known you. And that¡¯s been a while."


    Lucien scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "And who exactly would that be?" he shot back, sharper than intended. "What¡¯s a shrink gonna do about nightmares I can barely remember?"


    The automatic doors whispered shut behind them. Outside, the city moved like clockwork, pedestrians hurrying toward the train, shoulders hunched against the light drizzle. Their conversation stalled as they stepped into the flow of bodies, swallowed by the steady hum of morning life. They turned left and walked to catch the NS line.


    "There¡¯s no need to get pissed," Jan said, nudging him with his elbow. "I¡¯m just trying to help."


    "I know, man, I know. I¡¯ve just slept like shit¡­"


    "For four years," Jan finished for him with a smirk.


    Lucien let out a short, tired laugh. "Yeah, more or less." He took a sip of his coffee mid stride, savoring the bitter warmth.


    They walked in silence for a few minutes, passing what appeared to be the same apartment building again and again, in between each building, a park or another recreational area was strategically placed. As they came closer to the train station, Jan picked up the conversation again. "I wasn¡¯t actually talking about a shrink," he said.


    Lucien, lost in his own thoughts, barely registered the words. "Huh?"


    Jan grinned. "Before, you said, what¡¯s a shrink gonna do¡ª" He twisted his voice into an exaggerated, slow-witted imitation of Lucien.


    Lucien snorted. "Oh, right¡±. They began walking up the stairs, while a long line of people stood idle on the escalator right next to the staircase, looking into their phones, or simply staring right ahead, as if they were long away in thought.


    "What I meant was, maybe you could talk to one of the professors or students working on those sleep studies at the university." Jan was taking two steps at a time as he ascended towards the platform.


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    Lucien raised an eyebrow in hot pursuit of Jan. "That¡¯s¡­ actually not a bad idea. When did you develop a brain?"


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Jan shot back with a grin, stepping over the platform into the train cabin that would take them to the university.


    ¡°Stand clear of the platform,¡± an automated female voice said in a flat, emotionless tone.


    After a brief delay, the cabin surged forward and attached itself to the back of the main tram.


    ¡°Looks like they still haven¡¯t fixed that screen,¡± Lucien said with a grin, pointing at a cracked monitor as they crossed into the first cabin. ¡°Tell me¡ªdid you ever manage to score that brunette in the end, after that glorious feat of acrobatics?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ no. No, I didn¡¯t,¡± Jan said, blushing a little but trying to keep his head high.


    They moved through the first cabin and into the next, finally finding an empty spot to sit down.


    It was less crowded than usual, but just as grimy. They found seats in one of the cubicle containers, facing each other. Lucien hated riding backwards¡ªit made his stomach churn¡ªbut it was still better than standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers for fifteen minutes.


    ¡°It would have been a truly glorious showing of your somersaults¡± Lucien chuckled, ¡°if you¡¯d just been aware of your surroundings and not smacked that poor monitor with your leg.¡±


    Jan¡¯s face darkened. ¡°I busted my nose and my leg! And you¡¯re just sitting there laughing.¡±


    He gestured dramatically at Lucien, faking offense. ¡°Let¡¯s see how far you get in class without me helping you understand it afterwards because you¡¯re always so tired¡±.


    ¡°Hey! You know I love you, don¡¯t be like that. I need your help!¡± Lucien said lightly, still laughing.


    ¡°You should have thought of that earlier¡± Jan smiled, crossing his arms.


    Across from them, two women in their mid-twenties whispered gossip with voices laced in judgment. One of them looked up briefly, raising an eyebrow before quickly turning back to their conversation. Clearly not interested¡ªmore enthralled in the latest gossip.


    After a minute or so more of Lucien and Jan taking stabs at each other the conversation slowed down again.


    Lucien leaned against the window, staring out at the city. Parks, walkways, and apartment buildings with porcelain-white facades and obsidian-black windows slid past in a seamless blur of design and greenery as the train raced through the second circle toward the city center.


    ¡°Cabin detaching to Circle One, Outer Perimeter North, in one minute,¡± the same automated voice announced over the speaker system.


    A few passengers rose and hurried to the rear of the train. A soft hiss and the metallic click of decoupling followed, just as a new cabin attached itself to the back, filling quickly with commuters preparing to exit at the next junction.


    The train curved left, continuing clockwise around the city. From his seat, Lucien could see the graceful arcs of buildings and parks encircling the Central Hub, all framed by the deep green of the surrounding forest. Mansions dotted the terrain, standing apart from the hydroponic towers near the Inner Perimeter of Circle One. The view was breathtaking as always. The entire landscape looked like a massive bowl of forest and light, with sleek structures rising like polished stones from within.


    Lucien could make out three of the four massive gateways leading into the inner circle as the train hurtled toward the eastern platform. They passed the jagged scar cutting across the pristine symmetry of the structure at the very center of the city¡ªEdu-4¡¯s town hall. Though only a small part of the Central Hub, its once-immaculate white surface was now scorched black and gray from the bombing. Drones hovered around it, already repairing the damage, efficient and silent.


    ¡°Still feels surreal,¡± Jan muttered beside him.


    Lucien nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah, it really makes you wonder how far out of control things are getting. The Brotherhood has really increased their presence over the last couple of years¡±.


    Jan didn¡¯t respond. He just stared at the rubble and reconstruction drones. He rarely spoke on political matters, especially when the brotherhood was involved, Lucien didn¡¯t know why that was, but he didn¡¯t want to pry.


    ¡°Hard to believe we¡¯ve lived here four years now, in fact... isn¡¯t this the exact day we met for the first time?¡± Lucien said, breaking the comfortable silence while switching subjects.


    ¡°Feels like eight,¡± Jan replied, managing a half-smile. ¡°And I don¡¯t know man, it¡¯s not like we¡¯re going to hold an anniversary party for being put together as roommates¡±.


    ¡°Pff, I know you want this¡± Lucien said winking at Jan, rubbing his chest.


    ¡°Ew¡±


    They had only been roommates at first, two mechanical engineering grads from different corners of the country tossed together by shear chance to further their education into programming. Neither of them had expected to become friends. But they both got a long great, both collaboratively and socially.


    Lucien remembered that first night, the awkward introductions over a pizza from the local dispensary, Jan quietly setting up his drone charger on the floor while Lucien tried to debug a compiler loop he¡¯d broken at 2AM.


    ¡°You sleep with the window open?¡± Jan had asked. ¡°I can¡¯t sleep with traffic noise.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t sleep much anyway,¡± Lucien had replied.


    Nothing had really changed on that part.


    Lucien and Jan both insisted they weren¡¯t political, that this was just another war between people too consumed by their own righteousness. But wars had a way of pulling everyone in, whether they wanted it or not.


    A little over two decades ago, the old political system had been dismantled, replaced with a direct technocratic governance designed to eliminate inefficiency, bureaucracy, and corruption.


    It was supposed to mark the end of political deadlock, the end of endless debates that led nowhere, the beginning of a system where progress would no longer be strangled by self-interest and stagnation.


    Yet what should have been the death of bureaucracy became its final mutation. A hegemonic remnant, a power structure with no purpose beyond its own preservation. A system run by those unwilling to let the past die, propped up by a populace either too invested in the illusion of their last democratic choice to admit it had failed, or too distracted to realize the truth.


    Dissent had started quietly, voices rising in protest against a government that had outlived its necessity. At first, demonstrations flooded the streets¡ªmarches, speeches, carefully orchestrated rallies intended to demand reform.


    They were ignored by the majority. The government refused to acknowledge them, as did the media, brushing them aside like the empty cries of a misguided few. But when the protests persisted, when their numbers grew and their message spread, the first signs of fear rippled through the establishment. Determined to stamp out the movement before it could take hold, the government acted swiftly.


    Crackdowns became routine. Protesters were beaten and arrested. The message was clear, there would be no revolution, no correction, no grand course adjustment to put governance back in the hands of the people. But suppression does not erase resistance; it only reshapes it.


    What had begun as a public outcry dissolved into something far more dangerous¡ªa hidden war waged in the shadows. Those who had once stood in the streets now moved unseen through the city''s underbelly, exchanging banners for explosives, chants for whispered plans.


    The government-controlled media referred to them only as a terror cell, stripping them of their cause and painting them as radicals without purpose beyond destruction. But to those who still believed in the fight, they had become something more.


    "It¡¯s getting really crazy out there," he muttered. "You¡¯d think by now, as a species, we¡¯d have figured out how to stop killing each other."


    Lucien glanced at his friend¡¯s despondent face. "I don¡¯t know, man," he said, voice low. "I guess, in the end, we¡¯re all kind of savage.. given the right reason. Or if you step on someone long enough." Jan lifted his head from where he¡¯d been staring at his shoes, meeting Lucien¡¯s gaze with narrowed eyes. It made him look both intense and, somehow, even sleepier than usual.


    "What do you mean?"


    "I mean, this isn¡¯t just about that one night," Lucien said, shifting in his seat. "It¡¯s a reaction¡ªsomething building for decades. That attack was just the spark, but the fire was already there. Years of oppression, inequality. You can only push people so far before they push back."


    Jan exhaled through his nose. "We had it pretty good before this war broke out, man. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but at least we felt safe."


    "Sure," Lucien admitted. "But feeling safe and being free aren¡¯t the same thing. Just because life was livable doesn¡¯t mean it was good. And let¡¯s be real¡ªthere¡¯s no guarantee it¡¯ll be better even if the Brotherhood wins in the end. But for now¡ª"


    "Tickets." The sharp voice cut through their conversation like a knife.


    Lucien and Jan snapped out of their thoughts, looking up to see the conductor standing over them, arm outstretched.


    A scanning device sat in his palm, a rectangular sensor glowing at the center. One after another, they pressed their wrists to the scanner. A soft beep signaled the transaction. The word "tickets" was a relic of the past¡ªno one bought them anymore, in fact nothing could be bought at all.


    Travel was simply registered by the conductor. It could easily have been handled digitally when passengers boarded, but the system kept conductors employed. A job with no real purpose, just another cog in a machine designed to keep running.


    Something felt off, as the old man¡¯s stomps left their immediate surroundings, the train compartment felt eerily quiet.


    Lucien glanced around. The other passengers were staring at them, eyes narrowed, expressions tense. They had been listening. "Let¡¯s get out of here before we get in trouble for talking" he said under his breath, looking at Jan, while pointing at the other passengers using his eyes.


    They both stood and headed for the exit. The next stop wasn¡¯t theirs, but walking the last 30 minutes was preferable to dealing with unnecessary questioning. They rushed to the cabin in the back, barely missing the detach. The cabin swayed gently to the left decelerating at a decent pace, till it came to a stop on the Circle 1, East platform.

 Shorts - Chapter 1.1

    The city stretched before them. It was a masterpiece of design and engineered for seamless living. Getting lost was almost impossible; as long as you knew where north was, everything else aligned with logic and purpose.


    At its heart lay the Central Hub, a vast circular district spanning 650 meters in radius, where everything essential to life was within reach. City hall, research institutes, libraries, sanitation centers, and logistics nodes wove together with sprawling education complexes and vibrant public spaces. If you needed something, it was there, designed to be part of your daily flow.


    Beneath the surface, four massive underground logistics highways funneled industrial supplies inward from the city¡¯s outskirts. Above, four concentric, pedestrian-friendly rings layered the surface, each one seamlessly connected to the subterranean road system. From the sky, the city looked like a perfect circuit¡ªan endless loop of controlled, intelligent design.


    Suspended above the rings, elevated maglev rails sliced cleanly through the air, carving the city into quadrants. Sleek, silent trains floated along them, bridging the distance from the outer rings to the Central Hub in minutes. Beneath these tracks, shaded walkways offered cool relief in summer, bordered by pocket parks, open plazas, and communal gathering zones.


    The innermost ring housed the city¡¯s officials. Their homes encircled the hydroponic towers which were vertical farms that supplied a steady flow of locally grown produce.


    The second ring, where Lucien and Jan lived, held modern high-rises, their glass facades catching the shifting hues of daylight. These towers were designed for seamless access to learning centers, entertainment districts, and communal workspaces¡ªall of it tied to the heartbeat of the Central Hub through the public transportation system.


    Families and essential employees lived in the third ring, where white modular homes sat in peaceful symmetry. Expansive parks wove between them, blending into rewilded zones¡ªurban permaculture forests designed for biodiversity, food production, and natural carbon filtering. These extended beyond the final residential belt, creating a living, breathing buffer between humanity and the world beyond.


    Outside the city¡¯s ten-kilometer radius, the landscape transitioned again¡ªvast industrial sectors divided by function: fabrication, energy production, water treatment, waste management, transportation. Beyond even that stretched the automated farms and forest reserves, maintained by swarms of drones and AI-run agrosystems.


    Spanning over 300 square kilometers, the city operated with such precision that distance felt irrelevant. Housing 2.5 million young minds, Edu-4 was a place of learning, innovation, and boundless technological promise.


    It was also the product of a long-forgotten dream.


    In the mid-21st century, a collective of engineers and architects conceived the circular city model. A blueprint refined over decades until it became the global standard. Now, each city stood as a self-contained, sovereign state, managing its own infrastructure, governance, and future. Tied together only by a threadbare framework of common law and a handful of aging global regulators, they were islands of efficiency drifting in a recovering world.


    Edu-4 was no different. It was built as a training ground, where youth were shaped, slotted into predetermined fields, and polished into tools for global progress.


    At least¡ªthat was the original idea.


    ¡°Hey, have you ever thought about the old cities, and wondered what it would be like to visit them?¡± Lucien panted as they cut through the inner eastern park, bolting south west. ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve only seen them from a distance when going to see my mom, or on videos and pictures¡±.


    ¡°What made you think of that right know?¡± Jan half yelled over his shoulder, trying to hold the pace. ¡°And yeah, it could be cool. Maybe we can rent a car and go during the summer vacation?¡±


    ¡°Hell yeah! Let¡¯s do it¡± They were both getting tired, but desperately tried to hold the pace.


    "Ah, shit, man!" Jan suddenly blurted as they bolted down a side street, rain pounding the pavement as they ran toward the Central Hub.


    "The fucking conductor has our info now. If he¡¯s with the establishment, we could be in real trouble."


    "Relax," Lucien panted, dodging puddles as they sprinted forward. "No one in a position like his is an establishment sympathizer."


    "Yeah, I hope you¡¯re right," Jan muttered between heavy breaths. "Let¡¯s slow down, I need to catch my breath."


    By the time they reached the university, they were only twenty minutes late. They went in on the southern side of the central hub, which was the shortest route to the University grounds.


    They went in on the southern side of the Central Hub, which was the shortest route to the University grounds.


    The massive arched entrance swallowed them whole, its transparent smartglass doors parting without a sound. Inside, the Central Hub unfolded like the atrium of a cathedral designed by algorithms¡ªfluid, vast, and impossibly clean. The lobby stretched upward in a dizzying display of architectural ambition, five stories of open air framed by curved walkways and terraced platforms, each layered with soft lighting and embedded green walls.


    Polished white floors shimmered beneath their feet, interrupted by long black veins of basalt and pearlescent inlays that caught the overhead light. Sculptures rose like frozen waves from the floor¡ªmetallic, semi-organic forms that shifted subtly with perspective. One near the entrance appeared to be a dancer, another like a spiraling equation rendered in copper and glass. Interactive art installations hovered nearby, displaying bursts of kinetic movement in response to biometric data as people passed.


    To the left, a series of escalators and stairs curled along the wall like strands of DNA, ferrying people between floors with serene efficiency. Transparent walkways hung overhead, their undersides glowing faintly with each passing step. The quiet hum of the maglev lifts came and went like breath.


    There were no advertisements, no kiosks shouting for attention. The few alcoves built into the walls housed practical amenities¡ªautomated dispensers that produced clean clothing, footwear, or hygiene items on request and upon delivering used clothes. A young man stood barefoot before one, watching as a new pair of shoes took shape beneath a translucent shell. Another alcove dispensed hot nutrient-rich drinks in biodegradable cups to a cluster of students chatting quietly.


    Despite the scale, the space felt calm. Intentionally so. Every sound was dampened, every movement gracefully guided. The ambient lighting adjusted subtly to match the natural rhythm of the sun outside, easing the senses into a state of focus.


    ¡°Are you planning on participating in the EDU Drone Cup again this year?¡± Lucien asked while they sped through the lobby, cutting across the grand hall with long strides. The southern wing loomed ahead, marked by a vertical panel displaying a soft blue arc¡ªthe symbol of the University.


    ¡°Maybe. I did improve the controls since last year, but I just got my ass handed to me hard last time,¡± Jan said, slowing down.


    ¡°Ey, don¡¯t worry about that, and don¡¯t slow down¡ªwe¡¯re nearly there.¡±


    The University spanned the first five levels of the Central Hub¡¯s southern quadrant, integrated directly into the structure like a root system fused with a machine. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lower levels, Lucien could already see clusters of students moving between lecture halls and open workspaces. Beyond them, clean-lined study pods, collaborative platforms, and tiered gardens climbed the inner curve of the building, all connected by quiet elevators and looping hallways.


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    They slipped into the lecture hall unnoticed, settling into the back row. The professor didn¡¯t even acknowledge them¡ªhe was too caught up explaining how to multiply two 4x4 matrices in 47 steps without AI and why this was crucial to optimizing program operations.


    Lucien barely heard a word. He understood what was said and shown just fine, and he wasn¡¯t bored, but his mind kept circling back to the sleep professor. Somehow, Jan¡¯s suggestion had embedded itself into his mind, and now he couldn¡¯t shake the thought. He needed answers.


    When lunch finally arrived, Lucien wasted no time. He set off on a direct route for the reception desk, located at the center of the Central Hub¡¯s ground floor.


    The front office was enormous, yet quieter than the rest of the building, tucked away from the chaos of the half million people employed at the Central Hub. The front offices housed the secretaries of all the different departments, ranging from administrative to higher education and everything in between. Yet no one rarely went there unless they were new to the city or had gotten lost on their way to a meeting or class.


    Behind the sleek counter at the Department of Education, a middle-aged woman sat with effortless composure, her long brown hair neatly pulled back, fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes giving her an air of quiet wisdom. She barely glanced up as he approached, too absorbed in the glowing interface of her console.


    Lucien cleared his throat.


    "Excuse me," he said, trying to sound casual. "I¡¯m looking for a professor. I¡ªuh, I don¡¯t know their name, but they study sleep."


    The receptionist smirked. "Oh, you mean Miss Moea?"


    Lucien blinked. Miss?


    "Yeah, exactly," he stammered. "Uh¡­ I¡¯ve been having these, uh, dreams, and I was hoping to¡­ you know, discuss them with her."


    As he spoke, he felt his face burn. Why did he suddenly feel embarrassed? He wasn¡¯t interested in her, yet he always struggled talking to women. Words tripped over themselves, his brain jammed, and the best solution was usually just to avoid conversation altogether.


    As she leaned forward to type, the neckline of her blouse shifted¡ªunintentionally revealing more than she probably meant to. Lucien¡¯s eyes flicked down and back up in a panic.


    She noticed, and quickly tugged her cardigan shut and continued typing with a tight-lipped smile.


    ¡°She should be in room 303 after lunch, dear,¡± she said, clearly amused by his discomfort.


    "Room 303. Thanks," Lucien muttered, taking a careful step backward, determined not to look¡ªand yet, his eyes betrayed him for half a second. Shit.


    He turned to leave. Only to slam straight into the doorframe.


    A stupid, involuntary noise escaped his throat as he stumbled forward, catching himself just in time before breaking into a full sprint toward the stairs.


    Room 303 was empty when he arrived.


    Lucien slid into a seat, peeling open the biodegradable plastic wrap around his chicken bacon sandwich, bit into the deliciousness, thinking about the weirdness of the conversation he was about to have.


    Lucien had just finished his sandwich and was absentmindedly


    A woman, not much older than him, strode in at such a pace that she was one step away from running. She didn¡¯t even notice him sitting there. Instead, she hurled her shoulder bag onto the teacher¡¯s desk, where it landed with a heavy clunk, followed by the slithering scrape of leather against wood. Then, with a sharp exhale, she collapsed into a chair, covering her face with her hands.


    Her blond hair, slightly disheveled, cascaded down her back, its golden hue catching the artificial light. Through her fingers, a perfect nose protruded, its curve so naturally precise that Lucien found himself staring longer than necessary. When she finally dragged her hands down her face, revealing striking, ice-blue eyes, he realized the rest of her features were just as flawless.


    And then, those eyes lazily locked onto him.


    She jolted upright, startled, letting out a small, sharp yelp.


    "Oh... I thought I was alone. You¡¯re not in my class. What do you want?"


    Her tone was sharp, borderline aggressive, but Lucien chose to ignore it.


    "A-are you Professor Moea?" he asked, unable to break away from her gaze.


    "I am," she said flatly, each syllable crisp and deliberate. "I¡¯ll ask again... what, are, you, doing here?"


    Lucien swallowed.


    "Oh, uh¡ªsorry, I¡¯m Lucien, ma¡¯am."


    Professor Moea clearly found the ¡°ma¡¯am¡± part hilarious, as her face lit up and she moved her hand to cover her mouth.


    "I¡¯ve been looking for you because, uh, well¡ªyou see, I¡¯ve been having these vivid nightmares for as long as I can remember, and I¡ªuh¡ªwas hoping you¡¯d, um, maybe give me some advice on how to, you know, counter them."


    The words rushed out, tangled and messy.


    Professor Moea let out a slow breath, her posture relaxing slightly.


    "Oh. Well... I don¡¯t know what to tell you." She folded her arms, leaning back in her chair. "Dreams are nothing more than fragments of the subconscious. They hold no deeper meaning¡ªit¡¯s just your brain sorting through data, like mental maintenance."


    She was clearly just going through the textbook stuff, already bored with Lucien¡¯s predicament.


    "That¡¯s not what I was asking at all," Lucien interrupted, his usual hesitation towards women replaced by frustration. "I don¡¯t care what dreams ¡®mean¡¯. I want to control them. These nightmares have been ruining my sleep for so long I can¡¯t remember the last time I wasn¡¯t tired."


    His voice cracked slightly.


    He hadn¡¯t meant to sound so desperate. Hadn¡¯t realized just how much this was weighing on him until now.


    Years of perpetual exhaustion clawed at his sanity, fraying the edges of his patience. He could feel tears pressing at the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them spill.


    Professor Moea¡¯s expression shifted.


    "Well..." she said, pressing her long, spread-out fingers together so they cracked. "We are looking for volunteers for a sleep experiment we¡¯ve been developing. The goal is to observe dreams in real-time¡ªessentially, watching them like a movie."


    She studied him as she spoke, as if gauging his reaction.


    "If we can see what¡¯s happening in your dreams, we might be able to come up with a way to help you gain lucidity during REM sleep."


    Lucien blinked. "How exactly?"


    "The procedure is nearly non-invasive, but it does require direct access to your main RFID."


    Her voice was calm, but her eyes were locked onto his, watching for a reaction.


    Lucien stiffened.


    "What do you mean ¡®direct access¡¯?"


    Moea tilted her head slightly. "You already know what that means."


    The air between them felt heavier now.


    "We insert electrodes into the base of your neck and connect directly to the chip. It¡¯s completely safe, so don¡¯t you worry¡ªwe use a local anesthetic. You won¡¯t feel a thing."


    She mimicked a quick syringe motion, then for the first time, flashed a small, wry smile, trying to cover up her own desperation.


    Lucien felt a slight chill crawl up his spine.


    "Can¡¯t you just hook up through the cloud?" he asked, hoping for a less invasive alternative.


    Professor Moea shook her head, strands of golden hair swaying with the motion. "No can do. We don¡¯t have access to the security protocol. That¡¯s restricted to official use¡ªwe barely got clearance for direct connections as it is."


    Lucien sighed, rubbing his forehead.


    "Yeah... I figured. I¡¯m a senior programmer. I already knew that."


    Moea raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you ask?"


    "Because I was hoping I was wrong."


    He exhaled slowly, staring at the desk. "I¡¯ll have to think about it. But... as far as I understand, you can¡¯t really help me today, can you?"


    "You understood correctly," she said simply.


    She reached into her bag, pulling out a sleek laptop, her earlier tension now fully dissipated. "And now, you have to leave. Class is starting soon."


    Lucien hesitated for a moment before nodding.


    "Thank you for your time, Miss Moea," he said politely. "Do you have a way for me to contact you when I¡¯ve made up my mind?"


    Moea¡¯s lips curled into another knowing smile. "I think you¡¯ve already made up your mind,¡± she blinked. ¡°I¡¯ll be seeing you again soon."


    She reached out her hand. As Lucien shook it, his phone buzzed.


    New Contact Added: Professor Moea


    Lucien glanced up, just in time to see a quick, playful wink before she turned her attention to her screen.


    "That¡¯s crazy!" Jan blurted out, far too loud, waving his arms like a madman. Heads turned in the classroom, students glancing over with mild curiosity.


    "No one in their right mind would do that voluntarily!"


    "Will you relax? It¡¯s a minor procedure. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?" Lucien shot back, his voice lowered to a harsh whisper.


    "Yeah, for one, they could mess it up! Damage your electricals... hell, they could mess with your actual brain!" Jan hissed, his temper escalating.


    "You two, in the back¡ªshut it!"


    "Sorry, Mr. Metis," they both muttered in unison.


    For a moment, neither of them spoke. Lucien slumped slightly in his chair, absently spinning a pen between his fingers. There¡¯s always that, I guess.


    But deep down, he already knew the truth. Professor Moea had been right.


    He had already made up his mind.


    The nightmares had tormented him for so long, an endless loop of exhaustion. Even if the procedure was risky, the alternative was worse.


    "I think I¡¯ll go through with it anyway."


    Jan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You¡¯re a fucking idiot, man." Then, a grin crept onto his face. "But do what you gotta do. Just know that if you turn into a potato, I¡¯m finding a new roommate."


    "Yeah, yeah."


    Both turned their attention back to Professor Metis, who was still half-watching them while lecturing on the proper way to shut down a program in case of a crash.

 shorts - Chapter 1.3

    Later, at the local food dispensary, Jan shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, speaking around it.


    "Maybe we can hack it." he said with a muffled voice.


    Lucien barely looked up from his half-eaten durum wrap. "Hack what?"


    "The FID Wi-Fi protocol, obviously." Jan rolled his eyes but kept shoveling food into his mouth.


    Lucien arched a brow. "Now who''s the dumb one?" he said, shaking his head, taking another delicious bite.


    "Oh, come on. If we crack the protocol, you don¡¯t have to risk getting even stupider." Jan finally swallowed, grinning.


    "Even if we could, we¡¯d be breaking at least half a dozen laws."


    "Two dozen."


    Lucien gave him a flat look, his mind pondering the option "it is outdated government tech though. How hard can it be?"


    "Exactly!, that¡¯s what I¡¯m saying!" Jan slammed Lucien hard on the back making him choke on his food, coughing bits of half-chewed durum onto the table.


    Jan reeled back, laughing. "Gross, man. Swallow properly."


    Lucien turned toward him, eyes narrowing. Then with zero warning, he spewed bits of chewed-up food straight in Jan¡¯s direction.


    "Aargh!" Jan yelped, hurling himself out of his seat and onto the pristine floor.


    For a moment the room was silent, then they both burst into laughter.


    Lucien extended a hand to help Jan up, but Jan swatted it away.


    "I can get up just fine without your help!" he proclaimed, puffing up with mock dignity as he scrambled to his feet.


    They stood, heading toward the exit. At the blue monitor, they tapped their wrists against the scanner.


    Beep.


    Lucien sighed. "I swear, couldn¡¯t they have made these things silent? Just turn green if it worked, red if it failed. Simple."


    Jan smirked. "What about the blind?"


    Lucien snorted. "Fuck the blind."


    Jan gasped in exaggerated horror. "Wow, ableist much?"


    "They¡¯re choosing to be blind. Just get a cyber-optics installed."


    Jan side-eyed him. "You¡¯re joking, right? I heard cyber-optic implants are the most painful experience imaginable, it takes literal years of agony to get used to."


    Lucien glanced at him as they crossed an empty bicycle path toward their apartment.


    "If I had to lose a sense, I''d rather lose touch than hearing or sight."


    Jan raised an eyebrow. "Really?"


    "Yeah. Smell, taste, even feeling, you can live without that. But hearing and seeing? Those are essential to life."


    Jan nodded thoughtfully¡ªthen, with perfect deadpan delivery, said, "Eh, I guess you don¡¯t really need to feel much when all you do is jack off."


    Lucien broke into laughter. "Oh my fucking god, man."


    After a short pause he went "You know, when I masturbate, I always think of yo moma.¡±


    Jan rolled his eyes, but he was grinning now as well. "Oh, real mature, you fucking child."


    "Keeping the classics alive is a virtue, and truth be told, she is better than porn"


    Still laughing and insulting each other, they entered their apartment building, beeped in, and climbed the six flights of stairs to their unit.


    They always took the stairs. It was a small ritual¡ªa way to feel less guilty about hours spent gaming or binge-watching AI-generated entertainment.


    But tonight was different.


    Tonight, they dragged their PCs into the living room, setting up for something far more daring.


    They were going to attempt to jailbreak the RFID lodged in the back of literally everyone¡¯s skull.


    The chip was installed within the first few weeks after birth¡ªa standard procedure. It required no maintenance, drawing power through heat exchange with the body.


    There were a handful of recorded accidents per year¡ªalmost always kids, usually elementary or preschoolers, who leaned too far back in their chairs and smashed their heads against the wall, damaging the implant.


    In those rare cases, the chip had to be replaced.


    "Hey, you wanna see something cool?" Jan asked, pulling open a drawer in his desk.


    Lucien sighed. "If this is your midget porn collection, I¡¯m really not interested."


    "No! Not that, but I know you want it¡ªthis."


    Jan pulled out an old plastic case¡ªthe kind that once held circular discs.


    Lucien raised an eyebrow.


    "Oh, wow. A DVD. So interesting.." Lucien said dryly.


    "Shut up and look," Jan muttered, eyes locked on the case as he opened it.


    Inside, nestled against cracked plastic, was an old, charred RFID chip.


    "It was my father¡¯s," Jan said, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic weight. "When he died, they cremated him, and we kept the ashes. After I moved out, my mom gave me the urn to remember him by."


    Lucien watched as Jan stared at the chip, his expression unreadable, his eyes distant.


    "When I moved here, I dropped the damn thing," Jan continued. "The urn shattered. But inside¡­ I found this. They must¡¯ve forgotten to sieve it."


    Lucien swallowed.


    "That¡¯s¡­ amazing. But are you sure you want to hack your father¡¯s chip? I mean, does it even work?" The words came out weird, tangled somewhere between excitement and unease. He quickly added, "I mean¡ªit was your father¡¯s, after all."


    Jan exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the case.


    "Oh, it¡¯ll work," he said, his voice low but resolute. "And it¡¯s exactly what he would¡¯ve wanted me to do. Being a programmer and all. Let¡¯s do it."


    Lucien was walking forward, through a vast corridor, though he had no memory of how or why he was here.


    The corridor stretched before him, bathed in a sickly green glow, the walls slick with moisture and the ceiling sagging under years of decay. The air hung thick with mildew, yet there was something else beneath it¡ªsomething metallic, something rotten.


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    However Lucien was sure he had a specific purpose here, he just needed to remember what it was, yet every time he thought he had figured it out, his train of thought slipped, sending his mind back into oblivion.


    His boots echoed too loudly against the floor. The sound bounced back at him, distorted, as if the corridor were much larger¡ªor smaller¡ªthan it appeared.


    Ahead, an archway loomed, leading into a grand entrance hall. What had once been a beautiful entryway, with a masterfully hand-carved balustrade staircase, now stood in eerie decay as the staircase rose at the far end, winding its way up into the darkness.


    Above, the ceiling had caved in long ago, exposing a jagged hole to the night sky. Rain poured through the gaping wound, drumming against the ruined marble floor, forming puddles that reflected the warped architecture.


    A faint sound of metal clanking from above, made Lucien stop in his tracks and listen. A sharp, deliberate sound. Not the wind. Not water. It was too rhythmic, like a piece of metal being dragged over the wooden floor, something was definitely up there.


    A deep sense of wrongness slithered up his spine. His breath caught in his throat, and his danger sense spiked, putting him into flight mode immediately.


    He turned to run, but the corridor he had just walked through was gone. In fact, the hallway that had stretched endlessly behind him moments ago was now a solid wall, cracked and covered in peeling wallpaper. there was no way out except the broken staircase.


    Lucien swallowed. His pulse thundered in his ears, he had no choice but to move forward up the stairs, towards whatever was making the rhythmical noise.


    He stepped onto the first stair, wincing at the groan of rotten wood beneath his weight. His hand brushed against the rail, feeling the splinters bite into his skin. Step by step, he climbed, eyes fixed on the stairs, too afraid to look up.


    Halfway up, the stairway made a sharp U-turn. To his left, a window frame jutted out from the wall, but there was no glass but even more terrifying, there was no outside at all! no fog, no darkness, just a complete indescribable void.


    Lucien¡¯s stomach twisted at the eerie sight. He hurried past, focusing on the stairs, trying to block out the eerie feeling of being watched by an empty void. Then without warning, his foot went straight through the musty floorboards.


    The wood snapped like brittle bone, and pain flared through his right leg as splintered edges tore through flesh. He gasped, staring at his own blood pooling beneath him. The skin hung in loose, wet ribbons, but the pain was distant, dulled, as though the injury belonged to someone else.


    A deep groan of anger rolled through the stairwell, following by deafening grunting as something began moving towards the him. Lucien froze up, unwilling to look up to the top of the stairs, yet forced to as the light was blocked by something.


    He stared at a massive shape of gray flesh, with chains protruding from various holes, excreting puss that ran down the sides of the bloated human figure. It took in a deep grunting breath, then barreled towards him, thundering down the stairs at an impossible speed.


    The abomination enormous body bolted towards Lucien, its entire bloated body pulsating with, purple blood veins, it wasn¡¯t slowing down, it was going to ram into him any second now.


    Lucien¡¯s body reacted before his mind did. He wrenched his leg free, skin peeling like wet paper, turned on his heel and bolted down the stairs and ran straight down a winding corridor.


    Why hadn¡¯t he noticed this before?


    Lucien stumbled down the hall, heavy footsteps and horrid grunts rattled just behind him, the dim lights in front of him blinking in and out for every stomp the creature made.


    The walls were covered in a slimy fluid, lazily dripping from the ceiling like saliva running out the mouth of a starving beast, ready to set it teeth into prey.


    The corridor suddenly ended in a doorway, a massive black door blocking his escape. He threw himself against the door with all momentum and might, yet it refused to budge.


    ¡°come on! please open you piece of shit!¡± every word smeared with pure dread, the trampling of heavy footsteps and the guttural grunting getting closer, and closer. The color of the corridor switching to an angry red color, the dripping turning into a cascade of slimy liquid.


    ¡°Fucking open!!¡± he screamed as he expected to get squashed to pulp between the heavy door and the monster behind him. He finally managed to turn the black metallic doorknob, and fell through the door into an abyss of absolute darkness.


    Lucien¡¯s eyes snapped open.


    The first thing he felt was cold stone against his back, damp and rough. His fingers twitched, brushing against deep grooves carved into the cobblestone¡ªmarks left by something dragging across the surface.


    He quickly pushed himself up, his breath coming fast and uneven. Where was the monster?!


    He scanned the area, but the monstrosity was no where to be seen, only the massive black door he had fallen through.


    Luciens concept of time was a completely shot, he could have laid here on the cobbles for a minute, maybe hours, he had no way of telling.


    The square around him was covered in silence. It was somehow illuminated in a sharp white light. Like the lighting in the homes of psychopaths, that used florescent light fixtures in their kitchens.


    Yet, there were no stars, no moon. The sky was completely devoid of anything. Towering walls boxed him in on all sides, ancient and cracked, covered in black stains that looked too much like dried black blood.


    At the center of it all, a stone fountain loomed, long since dried up, its basin filled only with dust and decay. Lucien¡¯s gaze was drawn to it immediately, mostly due to the serene beauty of the female figure.


    He slowly got to his feet and moved closer. Yet as he did and the angle changed, the statue seemed to morph from the beautiful female figure, into an immense beast.


    The creature was frozen mid-violence, talons buried deep in the torso of a man beneath it, his face oddly calm and accepting of his fate, The creatures lips were pulled back, exposing sharp teeth, and its body bulged with unnatural musculature.


    As he stood there and marveled at the beautifully carved statue, a sudden dread suddenly took hold in his entire being. Looking up, he locked eyes with the statue, and it moved.


    Lucien was completely frozen in place, unable to move, unable to process what was happening.


    Then, instinct kicked in. He turned and shot off in the direction of the massive door he¡¯d used to escape the abomination. But there was no exit.


    No door. No alleys. Just solid, black, bleeding stones, stretching infinitely high, as if the world beyond had never existed at all.


    A sense of dread clawed up his spine. He needed to hide, there had to be somewhere he could cower away.


    Lucien turned, sprinting toward the fountain, crouching behind its wide, cracked base. His chest heaved. He risked a glance over the edge. The statue was gone.


    His stomach lurched violently and before he could react a massive entity rammed him with impossible force.


    Lucien¡¯s body slammed against the cobblestone, hard enough to rattle his ribs. A sharp, crushing weight pressed into him, something hot and damp breathing against his skin.


    Talons drove straight through his arms, out on the other side and into his rib cage, perforating his lungs.


    Pain exploded through him, raw and white-hot. His body instinctively convulsed, but he couldn¡¯t move¡ªhe was pinned. Blood quickly pooled onto the broken slick cobblestones beneath him.


    Lucien gasped, but no sound came out. Like his voice had been stolen from him.


    Above him, metal cracked¡ªsplit apart in long, jagged fissures. Pieces of hardened steel flaked off, exposing something wet, red, and pulsing underneath.


    The outer shell fell away in chunks, revealing exposed muscle, glossy with viscous fluids and entrails, twitching and shifting under the heavy plated armored surface.


    Lucien¡¯s writhed as the creature leaned in, pressing closer, the stench of rotting meat and damp iron filling his nose and mouth. He could taste a combination of his own blood and the metallic smell from the colossus draconian figure lurching on his chest.


    Its face was bare flesh, stretched too tight over the shape of the former beautiful human skull, which now bared no resemblance to its former allure, and instead portrayed a macabre mixture of sinew, metal, bone and saggy flesh. Yet the icy blue eyes were completely unchanged and locked his gaze to its own.


    Lucien couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t breathe. The thing¡¯s ribs expanded violently, its chest rattling like giant metal chimes.


    Then Lucien felt it, a wrenching pull from inside his chest, like something was reaching down his throat, clawing at his insides. His mouth was being writhed open from the inside. a thin stream of glowing purple liquid, siphoned into the creature¡¯s gaping maw.


    He tried to resist, tried to force his mouth shut, and managed to make his lips meet, cutting off the flow.


    The creature sneered, as it ripped it¡¯s arm out of his chest and arm, just to tear his jaw clean off like it was nothing. Blood gushed down his throat, warm and thick, drowning him from the inside out.


    He tried to scream, but his throat was already filled to the brim with his own fluids. His vision blurred, his limbs unable to do anything but spastically jitter.


    On top of him, the creature started shaking in joy, its deep, rattling inhale sending more glowing liquid streaming from his body into its own open maw


    Lucien could feel himself unraveling, piece by piece, being drained into something else. It wasn¡¯t just killing him, it was taking his soul apart. Piece by piece. He closed his eyes, accepting that he was going to die here, on the dark cobblestones in a pool of his own blood. A tranquil feeling went over him. Maybe death wasn¡¯t so bad after all. At least the pain would be gone.


    Lucien opened his eyes at the sound of a slap and someone yelling, ¡°Wake up!¡±


    His cheek burned, and he stared into a pair of wild, blue eyes.


    Another slap struck his other cheek, but he was unable to speak or move. He could only stare straight up into the blinding light that encircled his friend''s face.


    His arms ached, and he could barely breathe. As he tried to move again, a sharp pain shot through his back.


    Jan moved out of the way, and the ceiling lamp¡¯s glare completely blinded him. He closed his eyes to shield them.


    ¡°Holy shit, man, I¡¯ve been trying to wake you up for the past five minutes¡± Jan panted, his voice hoarse. ¡°What the hell happened?¡±


    Lucien tried to remember, but all he could focus on was his aching muscles.


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember¡± he stuttered, still lying on his back, his voice barely audible. ¡°Can you turn off the light? My eyes are burning¡±.


    Jan went over and flicked the switch off.


    A huge black figure stood right next to him, swallowing the glow of the light that had poured in from the living room, making it look like a black hole.


    Lucien screamed in terror.


    Jan rushed to him, running straight through the translucent figure as if it wasn¡¯t there, and pulled him into a sitting position. The motion sent a violent wave through Lucien¡¯s stomach, and he puked up his half-digested dinner.


    With his throat and eyes burning and the taste of vomit still thick in his mouth, he frantically searched the room for the figure, but it was nowhere to be seen.


    Looking at Jan, he saw vomit smeared on his friend¡¯s bare arm and T-shirt.


    ¡°Sorry, man,¡± he stammered, defeat written all over his face.

 Shorts - Chapter 2.0

    "I told you not to create any more fucking problems, and instead of listening to me, you went out and put a bounty on our heads!" Lorien snarled, slamming his fist against the circular wooden table, making his olive, muscular arm jump back up. The impact sent a cup toppling over¡ªthankfully, it was empty. ¡°What the fuck were you thinking blowing up town hall!? It was supposed to be a stealth mission!¡±


    "I¡ªI¡­ I¡¯m sorry," a weak voice stammered. "It got completely out of hand, boss. I don¡¯t know what to say. It should have been an easy job, get in fast, upload the script, get out. Just like you planned. That guard wasn¡¯t supposed to be..."


    "Shut the fuck up, you idiot!" Lorien cut him off, his voice a sharp crack in the tense air. "I don¡¯t want excuses! Just tell me you at least got the job done¡­" He exhaled sharply, spitting the name like a curse. "Demi."


    "Y-Yeah," Demi managed, forcing himself to hold Lorien¡¯s dark stare without blinking, writhing his thin hands. "We uploaded the code. We¡¯re ready to disrupt." He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, hoping the fear twisting in his gut didn¡¯t show on his thin face. He forced his small stature to stay still, to look composed.


    "Good." Lorien exhaled sharply, his sneer softening into something more calculated. "Then we need to move.. now!" He pushed himself up from his worn leather chair and stepped behind it, gripping its scuffed backrest, his olive fingers digging into the material. "Maybe this little fuck-up will work in our favor¡­ If we strike immediately, they¡¯ll be too busy cleaning up your mess to stop us." He let his words hang in the air for a moment before snapping his head up. "Go tell the others to get ready. I¡¯ll be there shortly. Dismissed."


    Demi bowed quickly, spun on his heel, and bolted out of the cramped, concrete-walled room, stepping into the dimly lit corridor beyond. The rhythmic hum of electrical systems and the steady rush of water filled the elongated space. Above him, a tangle of pipes, thick cables, and cobwebs stretched across the ceiling.


    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve this treatment¡± Demi muttered under his breath. A single tear dropping into the dust on the concrete slaps beneath his feet.


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    This section of the underground hadn¡¯t seen maintenance in years¡ªand that¡¯s exactly how they wanted it.


    Demi had personally ensured that the service tram running through this tunnel was disabled, making it impossible for any unexpected visitors to come rolling through.


    If anyone wanted access, they¡¯d need to send a replacement tram, which would take time, time that the brotherhood no longer needed, now that their plans were moved forward, and this temporary base of operation would cease to exist.


    As he walked, he took a slow breath, trying to clear his mind, ignoring the mix of dust and dampness clinging to the air. The electrical hum rose and fell in waves as he passed by the industrial hardware, his mind racing with both excitement and unease.


    Five minutes of brisk walking later, his gaze absently following the faded blue paint stripe running along the lower half of the wall, he nearly missed his turn.


    "You guys ready to move out?" he called out, trying to sound cool as he turned into a wider corridor. This one curved ever so slightly to the right, lined with small rooms originally meant for electrical cabinets, water piping, and waste management. The Brotherhood had repurposed them: bunks, tables, and a makeshift kitchen.


    "What do you mean ¡°ready¡±, Demi?" a voice called lazily from one of the rooms. "I thought we were waiting for the opportune time.."


    "This is the opportune time!" Lorien¡¯s voice boomed down the corridor. Just as he himself turned the corner, shoving Demi to the side.


    The response was immediate. Within seconds, the narrow passage filled with thirty or so men and women scrambling to get into position. The moment everyone stood at attention, Lorien began pacing down the corridor, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group.


    "Demi created a¡­ small distraction," he said, his voice laced with icy sarcasm. "And while it was unintentional and nearly destroyed all our hard work, it will have sent the Enforcers on a wild goose chase. That gives us a rare opening." He let his words settle, pausing briefly before continuing.


    "This means we have to strike¡ªnow. They¡¯re already combing the system for changes. If we wait too long, they will find the breach. And if that happens, everything we¡¯ve worked for will be for nothing."


    The group murmured their agreement, though several shot cold glares in Demi¡¯s direction.


    Lorien took one final step forward. His eyes burned with conviction as he raised his voice.


    "Are you ready my brothers and sisters?"


    "YES, SIR!"


    Three dozen voices roared back in unison, echoing down the endless service tunnels spreading out under the city.

 Shorts - Chapter 2.1

    "I did it!" Jan proclaimed, a huge smile spreading across his face as he looked over at Lucien.


    For the past few weeks, nearly all their free time had been consumed by the hacking project, and now, at last, they had broken through the security protocol. The deadline for Lucien¡¯s participation in the sleep experiment was drawing closer, and this breakthrough had come just in time.


    "What?! How?" Lucien asked, his voice filled with amazement as he hurried to the other side of the table, eyes locked onto Jan¡¯s monitors.


    "It was actually way harder than I expected," Jan admitted, still grinning. "Honestly, if we hadn¡¯t learned how to prevent FIA on Thursday, I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve cracked it." He looked up from the screen, his excitement still evident. "I jolted the chip at different intervals during the boot sequence until it was forced to dump the encryption key into the memory."


    Jan was speaking faster than usual, his eagerness making his words tumble over each other. "When Metis explained it, it clicked for me¡ªof course they wouldn¡¯t focus on protecting against something like this. No one in their right mind would ever be dumb enough electrocute themselves just to break in to the chip.


    He turned to Lucien, waiting expectantly for well-earned praise. Instead, he got a sudden, enthusiastic hug.


    "You¡¯re a fucking boss, man!" Lucien laughed, releasing him. "Now, how do we use this encryption key to unlock my chip?"


    Jan rubbed his bloodshot eyes, slumping back in his chair. "Simple," he said, waving vaguely at the monitor while stretching his body. "We decrypt it, sift through endless lines of code, and figure out which command triggers the Wi-Fi protocol. Then, we pray that all the chips really are identical and that we can send the same command to yours without getting busted."


    He let out a long exhausted sigh and leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "But I¡¯m completely spent, man. Let¡¯s get something to eat and call it a night."


    The next morning, they woke up and got straight back to work. Now that they knew what to do, their efficiency had increased tenfold. Even though they should have been focusing on their upcoming test, they couldn''t tear themselves away from their pet project¡ªnot when they were so close to the finish line.


    Midday came and went, both of them still lounging in the clothes they''d slept in. Lucien, for once, felt somewhat rested. A rare occasion, considering he hadn¡¯t had nightmares the night before.


    A few days ago, he had spoken to Professor Moea about his recurring dreams and how to control them. Her advice had seemed frustratingly simplistic¡ªBefore falling asleep, tell yourself: My dreams are mine to control¡ªbut he had followed it nonetheless. Surprisingly, for the past two nights, the nightmares had stayed at bay. When he noticed his dreams taking a darker turn, he had managed to pull himself from REM sleep back into slow-wave sleep.


    The downside, however, was that it left him more irritable and scatterbrained. But compared to his usual exhausted mental state, this was a vast improvement.


    Lucien was staring intently at a piece of code when Jan suddenly broke his concentration.


    "I''m getting tired of eating toast, and we¡¯re out of a few things," Jan said, pushing himself up from his chair and heading to his room. "I¡¯ll go to the dispensary and grab some supplies. You want anything?" He raised his voice slightly as he pulled on some clothes.


    "Just don¡¯t forget the coffee," Lucien muttered, barely looking up, his eyes locked on the screen as he struggled to find the line of code he had been reading seconds before. His vision blurred, the text smudging together, and despite his restful night, the familiar weight of mental exhaustion crept back in.


    "Yeah, of course, man," Jan said, reentering the living room. Now somewhat presentable in a pair of sweatpants and an old, faded T-shirt¡ªneither particularly clean.


    "We also really need to do laundry," Lucien said, raising an eyebrow at the stains on Jan¡¯s shirt. "When you get back, we¡¯ll eat, call it a day, and do some washing. Deal?"


    Jan smirked, pretending to be offended by the scrutiny, but he merely nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you¡¯re right¡­ See you in half an hour," he said as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him.


    The sound of the latch clicked shut seemed to stretch endlessly for Lucien, wobbling the air like a loose bike bell on a gravel round while a deeper infrabass like sound made is eardrums reverberate at a near imperceivable slow frequency. A wave of drowsiness crashed over him, as though unseen hands had pinned him to the chair, injecting sedatives into his veins, dragging him toward unconsciousness.


    He fought against it, forcing himself upright and out of his worn leather chair. His steps were sluggish as he trudged across the light brown floorboards toward the kitchen counter. Holding himself upright using the dinner table.


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    There, just out of reach, on the kitchen counter a mere spitting distance away, stood the life-giving coffee machine, still half full of a freshly brewed batch of caffeinated salvation. The room seemed to stretch, making progress impossible.


    Lucien fell forward, the floor racing up to meet him as his world went topsy-turvy, he smashed his head into something with an audible crack, then darkness enveloped him¡­


    You must return to us.


    "Lucien?" A faint voice called. "Hey, Lucien¡ªwhat the fuck are you doing? Get up, you idiot!"


    He felt a gentle kick to the ribs. Groaning, he tried to open his eyes and lift his head.


    The left side of his face felt sticky as he slowly managed to raise it. The sound of paper bags being rapidly dropped stabbed at his eardrums, making him groan even louder.


    "Hey, man!, Hey Luc... oh easy there, not so quick! Oh shit, oooh shit!"


    You must return to us.


    Lucien felt hands gripping him under his armpits as he finally managed to get onto his elbows and knees, his eyes unwilling to see reality. He was hoisted to his feet. The sound of something metallic rolling over the floorboards rang in his ears like a thousand bells.


    "Oh shit! Are you okay?! Come sit here!"


    Lucien was slumped on the couch, his head throbbing.


    "Lucien! Look at me, man!"


    Two earth shattering kabooms rattled his brain as his friend banged his hands together in front of his face. Desperately trying to get a reaction.


    You must return to us.


    He threw his arms up to shield himself from the sonic booms, his eyes darting around the room, searching desperately for something, anything to anchor himself to.


    But his efforts were futile, like trying to hold on to smoke. The world around him refused to settle, stretching and morphing between two separate realities neither of able to fully take hold.


    One was twisted and vast, an endless expanse of darkness, strobing light, and tangled purple strands stretching infinitely, like the frayed remains of an ancient, decaying spiderweb, its strands barely touching, fragile, unraveling.


    The other was a mundane, piece of shit coffee table cluttered with junk, his friend standing and four beige walls.


    Neither world felt real. Yet both belonged, entwined as if one could not exist without the other.


    You must return to us.


    The faint sound of fingers tapping against glass hammered into his skull, breaking his mind apart.


    "Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance! Second ring, Northeastern quarter, apartment 401, fifth floor! My friend has fallen, and he has a major head injury. It¡¯s really bad, come quick!"


    You must return to us.


    Lucien became aware of a faint choir repeating a sentence in his mind. The rhythmic chant played over and over, drumming exhaustion into his bones, the chant slowly picking up speed, his very essence sagging under its weight.


    You must return to us.


    His skeleton shuddered with every sound, each syllable dragging through the air like a million voices spoken in reverse, breath drawn inward instead of released. His ribs ached, stretching as if something inside him was pressing outward, straining against the cage of his bones, desperate to escape


    You must return to us.


    The chant rose and fell like the wheezing of an ancient squeeze box, breathing with him, through him, as if his own body had been rewired to house the sound. A constant eerie rhythm repeating over and over again.


    "Don¡¯t worry, buddy. Help is on the way. Just sit still!"


    You must return to us.


    Lucien''s awareness sharpened as he lifted his hand to his head. His fingers pressed into something wet and warm, the sensation delayed, as if his nerves were buffering behind reality. He pulled his hand away, blinking down at the dark smear glistening on his fingertips.


    For a moment, his brain refused to acknowledge what he was seeing.


    You must return to us.


    He stared in horror at his crimson-stained hand, as the voices in his head reached a crescendo. Small writhing movements in his blood made a violent jolt of adrenaline tear right through him, his stomach twisted, his vision sharpened to needle points.


    You must return to us.


    His hands trembled, then clenched. The voices mutated, twisting into unnatural guttural roars that ripped through his skull, his blood on his hands lifting off his flesh, hanging weightlessly in the air.


    You must return to us!


    He thrashed, his body rolling against the sofa, hands on his ears, his muscles locked as the two worlds inside his mind crashed together, smashing into each other like tectonic plates, warping, breaking, then suddenly snapping into place.


    THE EMPRESS COMMANDS IT!


    "UUAAAH!" Lucien cried out with an ear shattering roar, leaving Jan with a ringing in his ears. "What the fuck, man?! Where the fuck am I?! What the fuck is going on?!"


    The voices kept screaming in his ears, resonating with absolute dominion over his psyche.


    He scrambled backward, arms and legs flailing against the sofa. The rough hemp textures scorched his bare hands as he kicked against the cushions, panic igniting in his chest.


    A firm yank pulled him crashing back onto the couch.


    "Get the fuck off me!" he yelped. Kicking and screaming, slinging his head from side to side, sending streams of crimson blood everywhere.


    "Lucien, RELAX!" Jan bellowed, his eyes wide with fear. "I called an ambulance, but you need to sit still! You¡¯ve got a huge gash on your temple! Ah fuck man, there is blood everywhere"


    Jan stood over him now, pressing down with his entire weight, his expression somewhere between blood red dread and frustration. "What the hell happened?! I was gone for twenty minutes, man!"


    Lucien swallowed hard, his mind finally forming a single constructive thought, one that wasn¡¯t steeped in pure terror.


    That was a good question. How had this happened, and how had he returned to his apartment? He had been somewhere else. In a void of infinite possibility, pure being, endless darkness.


    Yet now, his memory was a void. There was nothing, except the endless stretch of time slipping away, stretching space infinitely, leaving the single echoing tone of what should have been a click before his world had felt silent, collapsing into black.


    He tried to speak his mind, his voice croaked as his mind finally snapped, plunging him into darkness.

 Shorts - Chapter 2.2

    "We¡¯re in position. Awaiting orders, sir. Over."


    Lorien¡¯s grin widened, his yellowed canines glinting behind his pale upper lip. Around him, six figures crouched in the shadows, waiting. Not a word was spoken, only the weight of expectation hanging between them. He let the silence stretch, feeling the tension coil like a spring.


    "Let¡¯s do this."


    They all knew what to do. No hesitation, no nerves¡ªjust purpose. Lorien lifted the ancient walkie-talkie to his mouth, barely above a whisper.


    "Now."


    The plaza remained still for half a second, as if the entire world had sucked in a breath. Then everything snapped loose at once.


    A suppressed shot sliced the air, and the guard in the security booth jerked back, a spray of dark mist smearing the inside of the glass. His body slumped forward, his temple a ruined mess, one hand still limply gripping his gun. At the same instant, Demi tapped Enter on his laptop. Every light across the Central Hub flickered and died. The surveillance feeds cut to black.


    For a brief, hopeful moment, the hum of backup generators rumbled to life. Then, just as quickly, they sputtered and went silent¡ªcut down by Demi¡¯s script faster than an investigation into Jeffrey Epstein¡¯s client list.


    "Good work with that, Demi. I guess you¡¯re not entirely useless," Lorien muttered, clapping him once on the shoulder before lifting the walkie again.


    "Go, go, go."


    The first wave of operatives emerged from underground, manhole covers scraping aside as they poured into the streets in disciplined silence. Boots hit pavement. No shouting, no wasted movement, just bodies moving like a black tide toward the service entrance. The glass from the security booth crunched underfoot as Lorien jogged past, sparing only a glance for the nearly headless corpse slumped over the desk.


    "Come on, charges¡ªfast!" A hushed voice carried through the dark as they reached the main gate.


    One of the fighters was already on it, his fingers moving with practiced urgency as he fished a compact thermite charge from his pack and affixed it to the locking mechanism. Someone muttered an impatient command, but the demolitions expert barely spared them a glance.


    "Shut the fuck up, I¡¯m moving as fast as I can. There."


    A blinding white-orange light flared to life, heat radiating outward in waves. The metal groaned, curling away from the core of the blaze, the acrid stench of scorched steel rising into the windless night. Within seconds, the locking mechanism failed, the last remnants of the hinges dripping molten slag onto the pavement.


    "Come on, come on," someone muttered, sweat beading on their brow.


    The moment the lock clattered to the ground, three men threw their weight against the heavy door. It screeched as it gave way, metal scraping against concrete before slamming open. The breach was instant. Black-clad figures surged inside, rifles low and ready, sweeping through the dimly lit loading dock with swift, machine-like precision.


    Lorien took in the space at a glance¡ªa vast, high-ceilinged depot, its walls lined with industrial shelving. A yellow steel walkway stretched above them, leading to the freight elevator that connected to the underground conveyor network, the beating heart of the city¡¯s supply chain. If they timed this right, the Brotherhood¡¯s strike would bring the entire system to its knees.


    "You," Lorien snapped, pointing to a bulky figure. "Get the door back into position." He turned slightly, fixing his gaze on a leaner silhouette. "Assist him. Immediately."


    Then¡ªmovement in the dark. A sharp inhale. The scrape of metal on concrete.


    A gunshot exploded through the enclosed space, the bullet slicing past Lorien¡¯s face so close he felt the heat sear the air. The pressure in his ear popped, the shockwave rattling through his skull. But before the shooter could take another breath, death answered.


    A loud whoosh carved through the air, as a half-meter of sharpened rebar blasted through the dark, slamming into the guard¡¯s chest with a wet, crunching impact. Bone splintered like dry kindling. The sheer force tore him from the ground, lifting him into the air as the rebar punched clean through his ribcage, its jagged tip exploding from his back in a shower of blood, viscera, and shattered vertebrae.


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    For half a second, he hung there, impaled mid-air, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. Then the weight of his own ruined body dragged him down, but the rebar held, wrenching him to a sickening stop just above the floor. His organs or rather. what was left of them hadn¡¯t made the journey with him. A slick mess of shredded lung, pulped heart, and glistening strands of intestine slopped wetly onto the concrete below, the heat of his insides steaming in the cold air.


    The guards gun fell out of his limp hand onto the ground with a hollow clatter. His corpse twitched once, a final, pathetic reflex.


    Lorien didn¡¯t hesitate as he hurried forward. His senses were razor-sharp, every nerve alight with survival. The stench of blood and burnt metal thickening the air. He grabbed the gun and looked to the others ¡°No time to linger, bring the bags¡±


    His rebar-rifle was still warm, reassuring in his grip as he pressed forward, boots splashing through fresh blood. The Brotherhood moved in tight formation, shadows flickering against bare concrete walls.


    Moving down a service corridor towards the center of the complex, they reached a T-junction. The point man pressed against the wall, breathing steady, raising his pistol like contraption, that fired 5mm steel balls. He moved carefully, inching forward, revealing the corridor in small increments. His barrel tracked left, sweeping across dim service lights and exposed pipes, nothing seemed amiss.


    He shifted to the right. Another slow, methodical movement and peered down the corridor.


    The point man¡¯s head snapped back, as a bullet blasted through his skull. a mist of crimson and brain spraying the wall behind. He collapsed, his contraption clattering as his body hit the floor.


    Lorien moved quickly to take point. Before the corpse had fully settled, he pointed the guards gun out from the wall and fired a couple of rounds blindly down the corridor. Bullets bouncing off the hard concrete surface, multiple finding their target. A scream of pain ran out. Lorien jumped sideways, laying in the middle of the corridor, as he turned on his flashlight, and fired another round into the light cone. The screaming instantly stopped and was replaced with a loud thump as the defender of the central hub crashed into the ground.


    "Clear," he called called out, but the moment was already over. They were moving again.


    Lorien stepped over the body, barely glancing down as he passed his half empty pistol to the first and best brother, and picked up a new.


    The Brotherhood surged forward. More corridors. More resistance. The deeper they pushed, the more desperate the defenders became. Some fired until they ran out of bullets, then dropped their weapons and begged. Others fought to the last, screaming incoherent defiance as they were gunned down. A few tried to hide, pressing themselves into dark corners, their breath trembling in their chests as they prayed to be overlooked.


    None of it mattered.


    The Brotherhood moved as one, sweeping through the hallways, their makeshift armory quickly replaced with advanced weaponry, their path marked by bullet casings, shattered glass, and blood-slicked floors.


    Then finally they reached the center of the hub.


    An elevator stood before them, pristine and untouched, a stark contrast to the destruction raging through the facility. The stainless steel reflecting the flashlights.


    "Get hacking, Demi!" Lorien barked, shoving the small gremlin of a man toward the control panel.


    Demi scrambled to work, yanking out an electric power tool and rapidly unscrewing the panel. Within seconds, he had a portable device wired into the system, his fingers flying across the interface, desperately trying to force the elevator to respond.


    "Nothing¡¯s working, sir!" Demi whimpered.


    ¡°What!¡± Lorien boomed. Only to let out a snort, realization dawning. "Oh, right!"


    Chuckling to himself, he smacked his forehead lightly, to cover his mistake in humor, he reached for his walkie-talkie.


    "Ey, Bee, turn the goddamn power back on for the elevators, then get the fuck over here double time, the ship¡¯s sailing. Over"


    Barely five seconds passed before the hallway flickered to life, bathed in a soft white glow. Golden-framed paintings lined the walls, their elegant stillness at stark odds with the chaos unfolding.


    Lorien turned to Demi, grinning.


    "Sorry ¡®bout that, Demi." His voice held a lazy chuckle, smooth and almost soothing, but his grin, Demi swore, was more unsettling than his usual scowl.


    Then, just as suddenly, the grin vanished, replaced by a furrowed snarl.


    "Now, pretty please," his voice dropped to a dangerous growl.


    "Get the fucking elevator running."


    With the power restored, it took only a few minutes to bring the elevator fully online.


    A soft ¡®Pling¡¯ broke the tension as the doors whisked open, just as Bee came bolting down the hall way ¡°Brothers, we¡¯re busted! They¡¯ve sent everyone! Prepare the defenses, and hold them of for as long as you can.¡±


    He had only just finished his sentence, as an alarm started blaring out over the long hallway.


    Lorien quickly stepped inside the elevator, four other Brotherhood members including Bee following close behind, carrying large dufflebags. He slammed his fist against the button marked -10.


    Nothing happened.


    Lorien¡¯s eyes shot lightning at Demi, his expression a brewing storm.


    "Don¡¯t worry, boss, I got you!" Demi stammered, his voice barely audible over resounding alarm, frantically working the device. "Just needed the input from the button to unlock the command and bypass the security. Closing doors!"


    The elevator doors slid shut, sealing them in.


    Then, with a sudden lurch, the elevator rushed downward, plunging them into the depths of the city.


    ¡°Hurry brothers, Get the suits on!¡±.

 Shorts - Chapter 2.3

    Serene golden sunlight poured in through the panoramic window, casting long streaks across the sterilized gray vinyl flooring. The steady beeping of a machine was the only sound in the room, apart from the soft rustling of fabric as Lucien shifted in the medical bed.


    He turned onto his side, gazing out over the city¡ªacross the lush parks, beyond the sleek hydroponic tower stretching into the sky. The top of the tower vanished from view, obscured by the its sheer size compared to the floor to ceiling window.


    His head ached, but even worse, it itched. The gauze wrapped tightly around his temple prevented him from scratching, trapping the irritation just beyond reach. He didn¡¯t want to touch the wound itself, just the edges, where the itching was maddeningly persistent.


    He tried rubbing the bandages, hoping for even a small sense of relief, but the sensation only sent ghostly, painful stabs through his body, doing nothing to quell the itching. With a frustrated sigh, he clenched his teeth and forced himself to ignore it.


    The city sure is beautiful in the summer, he thought, his eyes drifting across the south lane, following its path toward the industrial complex. Beyond that, where the forests and fields should have been, the curvature of the Earth blended with the morning fog, rendering the distant landscape invisible, swallowed by the horizon.


    As the sun passed behind the hydroponic tower, the light in the room shifted, filtering through the tubes filled with organic material. A soft green glow spread across the walls, turning the sterile white interior into something warmer, almost ethereal.


    Lucien sank deeper into the pillows, his mind drifting, unraveling. The outlines of his subconscious flickered at the edge of his memory, fragments of his unconscious state popping back into his mind, as he had lied bleeding out on the dirty floor.


    A figure, or perhaps an entire army had descended upon him.


    They had fought off hordes of dream denizens, their movements blurring between battle and rescue, shielding him while they dragged his limp body away from the vast, purplish plane where he had been stranded.


    The door clicked, breaking his train of thought, shattering the vivid imagery still lingering in his mind. It opened silently, slow and hesitant, and then, a woman¡¯s head poked inside, her gaze locking onto his.


    "Mom!"


    Lucien tried to sit up, tried to reach for her, but the moment he moved, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, dragging him right back down.


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    His mother rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him in a careful yet desperate embrace, holding him as tightly as she dared. She buried her face against him, her muffled cries rising softly between them.


    "Lucien, what happened?" she stammered, her voice trembling, her eyes shining with worry.


    As best he could, he told her everything¡ªor at least, everything he understood. The incident. The strange dreams. The sense of something bigger looming over him.


    But as they spoke, his thoughts drifted to something far simpler.


    Something that mattered just as much.


    ¡°It¡¯s been so long, Mom.¡±


    His voice was quieter now, almost fragile. When he looked at her, there was sadness in his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ve really missed you.¡±


    With great effort, he sat up, leaning forward to hug her again. This time, he held on a little longer.


    They talked for a while¡ªabout everything and nothing. It had been nearly three years since he had last seen her. Lucien tried to talk to her about programming, but quickly stopped himself as he could clearly see that she was only listening out of courtesy, not interest


    She lived in another city, nearly five thousand kilometers southeast, in what had once been the Yunnan province of China. With the sheer amount of work and study they both had, there simply wasn¡¯t enough time in the world to visit regularly¡ªor to spend eight hours on a train just to see each other.


    Yet now, she was here.


    Lucien frowned slightly, a thought tugging at him.


    ¡°How did you get here so quickly?¡± he finally asked.


    His mother¡¯s brow creased.


    ¡°What do you mean, honey? I¡¯ve been here for days.¡±


    Lucien¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°¡­What?¡± His voice barely left his lips. ¡°How long have I been out?¡±


    His mother¡¯s face softened with sorrow, her gaze holding his.


    ¡°Two weeks, give or take a day,¡± she murmured. ¡°We all knew you¡¯d wake up eventually, but¡­ your injuries were severe. They had to operate. Your chip had shattered into your skull.¡±


    Her voice caught, throat tightening. ¡°They spent hours¡­ removing the pieces. They even had to refit you with a new port¡±.


    She lifted her shaking hands to her swollen eyes, wiping away the fresh tears. Lucien watched her closely, and for the first time, he noticed how old she suddenly looked.


    The deep furrows around her eyes.


    The silver strands creeping into her dark hair.


    A sudden realization settled over him.


    ¡°Mom¡­ have you stopped taking the medication?¡± he asked quietly.


    Her eyes darted to his, locking onto him sharply. She paused for a moment, then came a slow nod.


    ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯ve decided it¡¯s time.¡±


    Lucien swallowed hard, staring at her, his own eyes starting to swell.


    "Are you sure about this, Mom? Are you truly ready to lay down your life for another?"


    She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.


    "Arh, Lucien, don¡¯t be such a worrywart." She waved a hand dismissively, a playful smirk crossing her lips. "I¡¯ve easily got another fifty years before I¡¯m actually old. You won¡¯t be getting rid of me that quickly!"


    She laughed, grabbing his face in both hands and planting a big, smoochy kiss on his cheek.


    ¡°But thank you for worrying, nonetheless.¡±


    Her eyes were full of love, as only a mother can look at her child. She sat back, watching him carefully, tilting her head.


    ¡°Are you ready to see the doctor now?¡±


    Lucien exhaled, nodding.


    "Yes."


    His voice was quiet, but determined. He pressed his palms into the bed, straightening himself up as much as his body would allow.

 Shorts - Chapter 3.0

    Hooves pounded against the broken asphalt, a living shadow weaving through the ruins of a forgotten city, breaking the eerie silence with its rhythmic beat. It duck down and hid under a small bluff.


    Virginia Creeper, English Ivy, Wisteria, and countless smaller growths climbed and draped over the crumbling concrete roof, offering a momentary sanctuary. Small rays of sunlight pierced the canopy, casting dappled gold and green hues over the shadows tense, heaving form. Its ears twitched, body coiled, every muscle wired for survival.


    A twig snapped.


    The shadow exploded from cover, dodging and weaving through the thicket of bracken ferns, dandelions, birch, and elder trees popping up from the scars on the cracked concrete road like a ghost of the undergrowth. It zigzagged across, its hooves lightly striking concrete where nature had not yet won.


    Black and gray boulders, shattered window frames, and twisted metal littered the old road. Rusted rebar stabbed upward from the debris, turning every step into a fight for life itself.


    Yet, the liquid shadow glided through the skeletal remains of the city, untouched by the chaos of man¡¯s forgotten empire.


    An effortless leap carried it over the rubble, landing smoothly onto an old gravel trail. Rusted iron fences framed the path, leading into a dense, untamed forest. In the distance, an overgrown geodesic dome loomed, its fiberglass panels still intact, yet smothered in moss and strangled by vines. A relic of another era, that had had once cradled exotic life from every corner of the world.


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    The stag flew forward, muscles burning, heart hammering, freedom only a leap away!


    click.


    A rope snapped taut around its front legs, yanking the animal skyward, its world flipped upside down. It thrashed, kicking at the air as it swung beneath the canopy, bathed in a greenish glow where light filtered through the thick leaves of an ancient Oak tree.


    A chorus of panicked chirps burst from the treetops, wings slicing through the light-dappled canopy as the forest¡¯s as the mighty beast wobbled the leafy crown.


    ¡°Haha, I got it!¡±


    A light, triumphant voice cut through the forest, followed by the soft tap of leather-bound feet moving quick and precise. The stag kicked, twisting violently, fighting the rope with every ounce of its strength, but its struggles only made it swing harder beneath the canopy.


    A small, lean figure, swift as a cat, emerged from the undergrowth, her long black hair tightened into a ponytail. Her movements were effortless, calculated. As she got closer the stag lunged, antlers flashing toward her face, but she darted back without hesitation, unfazed, her knife already in motion, catching the dim green light as she stepped in.


    One fluid motion she closed the gap, seized the stag¡¯s head, and slit its throat.


    A whisper, barely audible over the slowing breath:


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, your fight is over, just relax and give in to the eternal dream¡±


    She held the beautiful strong animal, arms wrapped around its trembling body, almost tender, cradling it as a mother would her child before putting it to sleep. The blood came slow and steady, pooling at her feet, going back into the earth.

 Shorts - Chapter 3.1

    Pling.


    The elevator doors slid open, revealing a vast underground expanse where rows upon rows of towering server stacks stretched into the distance, their blinking indicator lights flickering in rhythmic pulses like artificial constellations. The air was cold and sterile, carrying the faint metallic tang of ionized dust.


    Unlike most of the facility, this floor was kept on its entirely own closed electrical system, using a small tokamak reactor powering everything from the binary servers to the quantum storage unit, air conditioning and cooling.


    Overhead, thick bundles of insulated wiring ran in perfect alignment along the ceiling, branching out like the veins of an enormous digital organism. The sleek conduits glowed faintly at their junctions, forming a vast, circuit-board-like network that disappeared into the depths of the facility. Occasionally, a soft electronic hum rippled through the air, the very walls seeming to vibrate in response, as if the system itself was breathing.


    The five men stepped into a small glass-enclosed antechamber, a buffer zone between the elevator and the gargantuan databanks beyond. A decontamination sluice hummed quietly beside them, its vented nozzles ready to mist intruders with sterilizing agents. The thick, glass-like wall separating them from the servers was reinforced with a faintly blue shimmer, likely some kind of electromagnetic shielding to prevent interference.


    They were dressed in tightly fitted suits, at first glance resembling high-end wetsuits, though a closer look revealed a subtle texture of woven insulation and reactive fabric, designed for temperature regulation rather than moisture resistance. The fabric clung to their bodies, limiting loose folds that could generate static, an ever-present danger in a facility like this.


    A monotone female voice echoed across the chamber, calm, sterile, and devoid of humanity.


    Welcome to the EduNet Core ¨C The central intelligence hub for Edu-4.


    Please be advised that it is prohibited to bring any magnetic material into the server room. Furthermore, all personnel and guests must carry their ID tags visible at all times. Failure to do so may lead to severe bodily harm. The quantum area in the facility is restricted to all personnel without formal written authorization. Keep clear of all..."


    "Shut up, you automated piece of shit,"


    Lorien muttered, raising a compact 3D-printed device with an iron sight, aimed at the hidden ceiling speaker. A dull pop sounded as half a dozen aluminum pellets embedded themselves into the mesh grille.


    The voice stuttered for a moment before resuming, its pitch slightly distorted:


    Also, be advised that you must stay within the yellow lines at all..


    "Arrh, for fuck''s sake."


    Lorien sighed, grabbing two plastic chairs from under a nearby terminal, with his muscular arms he dragged one beneath the speaker. With a huff of frustration, he climbed up and began continuously stabbing with the second chair overhead, slamming its leg directly into the ceiling speaker.


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    A burst of static and shredded audio crackled through the chamber.


    Scrrzt¡ªthe thssc quantum storage is maintainssc at an optimal temperatu¡ªscchhh¡ªof minus scchwohundred-zzzevencchythree degrees Celsiusszz. Proper sscrr protective equipmzzzz is mandacchory¡ªssccchhh¡ªto avoid potential frzzozzctbite. zzzhailure to comply may resssulcchz in lossz of¡ªsssccchhk¡ªlimb zzunction and deacchz.


    Lorien went rampant, smashing the speaker with ferocious strength, each impact send out small sparks of electricity, punctuated by an audible grunt of annoyance.


    "Mother¡ª" smack


    "Fucking¡ª" smack


    "Piece¡ª" smack


    "Of¡ª" smack


    ¡°Ro¡ª¡± smack


    ¡°botic¡ª¡± smack


    "Shit¡ª" smack


    "Shut¡ª" smack


    "The¡ª" smack


    "Fuck¡ª" smack


    "Up"¡ª¡° smack


    "Bitch¡±! CRACK!


    Each hit sent splinters of plastic flying, tiny shards of composite raining down, catching the glow of the server lights as they fell. The distorted voice warbled and stuttered, trying to complete its safety warnings, but finally¡ªafter thirty seconds of relentless destruction¡ªthe voice cut out entirely.


    The only sound left was the faint ambient hum of the servers beyond and the heavy breathing of the muscular man standing on a transparent plastic chair.


    Lorien exhaled, rubbing his forehead, small beads of sweat visible on his brow.


    "Much better."


    With a sigh, he lazily tossed the broken chair to the floor, climbed down, and collapsed into the other chair, panting, his head between his legs.


    His companions couldn¡¯t hold back their laughter, and for once, Lorien let his guard down, realizing just how stupid he must¡¯ve looked, standing on a blue plastic chair, screaming and beating a speaker to death like some crazed technology hating caveman.


    All five of them laughed briefly, a fleeting release of tension, before snapping back into focus as if nothing had happened.


    "Let¡¯s go, brothers!" Lorien declared, his booming voice cutting through the cold air.


    In unison, they pulled on their frost resistant combat helmets, securing the hoses to the oxygen canisters strapped to their backs, the setup making them look less like intruders and more like a group of divers preparing for descent.


    Bee had already begun hacking the Quantum Resonance scanner, to a point where the system would always return a positive check. He knew exactly how they worked, as he had been on the team that developed the software. Bee quickly got access and uploaded the new software, deleting the old. The whole ordeal taking no more than five minutes.


    A tall, slim man stepped forward, approaching the decontamination sluice. Beside it, a type of scanner stood idle, its matte black screen waiting for input. He slung his duffel bag onto the conveyor belt before stepping inside the spherical chamber.


    The transparent, half-spheroid door spun shut behind him, sealing with a soft mechanical hiss. A set of LED''s flickered red, followed by the sharp hiss of sterilizing gas flooding the small chamber. The sound echoed unnervingly in the enclosed space, a high-pitched whine that seemed to pierce through the walls.


    Meanwhile the bags were being scanned for anything


    A moment later, the lights flicked green.


    "Decontamination process complete."


    Another detached, synthetic voice announced from a speaker above. The sluice door unlocked with a low click, granting access to the vast underground expanse beyond.


    One by one, they passed through the sluice and scanner, until they stood on the other side of the perimeter, deep within EduNet Core.


    Lorien glanced up at a digital clock mounted above one of the seemingly infinite pathways, its red numbers glowing against the sterile white light of the facility.


    No need to rush, he thought, then motioned for the others to follow.


    They moved in combat intervals, rifles low but ready, eyes scanning the empty corridors. There was no reason to expect resistance here¡ªthis level was restricted to only a handful of engineers and scientists, the select few who kept the plant running.


    But with the hub on high alert, it never hurt to be prepared.

 Shorts - Chapter 3.2

    Demi hunkered down, pressing himself against the side of his own personal makeshift barricade, made out of a single steel table, his fingers flying over his device.


    From his position near the elevator, he had to constantly decline requests for the lift to be brought back up from EduNet to the upper levels, ensuring it remained locked in place on that floor, preventing his team of getting flanked.


    Looking over his shoulder, he saw his team with their larger collective barricade, where his brothers and sisters held the defensive perimeter, weapons raised, their sights trained on the projector lit hallway ahead, blinding anyone trying to make an offensive move. All the dufflebags had been emptied, weapons assembled and ready.


    A voice shrieked through a megaphone, faintly echoing against the concrete walls, more room than actual dry sound.


    "This is the Edu-4 special forces, surrender now! We have you completely surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"


    Silence.


    Then, from behind the barricade, a sharp, defiant voice cut through the air.


    "Go fuck yourself, circuit worm!"


    Laughter rippled through the barricade, a woman¡¯s voice venomously echoed through the hallway a second after.


    "Come and get us, you fucking pussies!"


    They all knew what they¡¯d signed up for. This was a fight to the death. One that they might just be able to win if they just focused and were lucky. They just had to hold the perimeter long enough for Lorien to complete his mission, and then in their minds eye, Edu-4 would be one step closer to experience true freedom, a worthy sacrifice.


    The hallway fell completely silent again for a while, the brotherhood checked their gear one last time, they were as ready as the could be. Then, a quiet staccato rhythm began echoing out, like a horse trotting, followed by the sound of mechanical pistons rising louder and louder down through the hallway. Getting closer and closer, while picking up the pace. A sharp metallic scrape cut through the air, the unmistakable sound of metal raking against stone, faster now, the sound of something running at full speed. Something moved in the shadows ahead, a blur of shifting shapes, slowly coming into view of the mounted projectors. An eerie metallic looking exoskeleton of a creature about the size of a shepherd dog.


    ¡°Robots! Take defensive actions!¡± The battle-masters¡¯ voice boomed out over the group.


    A dozen members of the brotherhood quickly bolted forward to take cover behind the haphazardly assembled barricade comprised of everything the service level of the central hub had to offer. In the bottom, metal tables, office chairs and planters bound with barbed wire, made a near impenetrable wall. Above, everything wooden from storage cabinets and even a conference table were stacked on top of each other. The barricade extended nearly four meters vertically, and covered the hallway from side to side.


    Each fighter gripped a crude metal spear, the tip glinting in the dim light, trailing a thick, insulated wire that snaked back toward the power unit standing firmly on the ground. The devices were ugly, makeshift things, that looked like someone had ripped a dozen fuse boxes of the walls, and placed them in the middle of the battle-zone. Two oversized cranks folded against their sides, now snapping outward like the unfurling limbs of some predatory insect. The wire and spear formed a deadly proboscis, making the whole thing look like a giant mosquito.


    ¡°Pump!¡±


    The battle-masters¡¯ voice rang out again and everyone was now either pumping or holding the spear.


    The air crackled around the brotherhood. Excitement, adrenaline and electricity formed an atmospheric soup.


    Demi, was still hunkered down near the elevator, tapping away, denying every request for the elevator to move.


    ¡°Prepare for fighting in 5!¡± the battle-master cried out. The sound of metal on stone grew louder


    ¡°4!, It¡¯s dogs! Get ready!¡±


    ¡°3!¡± The sound of the joints of the robotic creatures became audible over the heavy breathing of people preparing for war.


    ¡°2!¡± Demi bit his teeth together, focusing on his task ahead, trying not to get distracted at the battle that was beginning less than 10 meters from him.


    ¡°1!¡±. ¡°For freedom!¡± The brotherhood yelled, as the first metallic dogs came bolting through the hallway towards the barricade, their servos screaming as they leaped into the air, trying to traverse the barricade. Only to get stabbed with the long metal spears mid air.


    A massive piezoelectric charge surged fourth in an explosion of plasma. An arc of supercharged particles blasted out, frying their circuits instantly.


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    ¡°Get fucking pumping, more is coming!¡± The Battle-master called out.


    The two dozen soldiers behind the barricades were already pumping all they could, sweat pouring of their skin, while the last dozen stood their ground, counting the seconds, as the rhythmic tramping of metal legs came bolting down the hallway yet again.


    The next wave vaulted the barricade, twisting mid-air to avoid the spears, instantly adapting from the former attack, hydraulic limbs snapping into lethal position, servos shrieking with the force of their momentum. The first three were struck mid-air again as the spears thrusted skywards, while two were cut down the second they touched down inside the perimeter. plasma bolts tearing through synthetic flesh, circuits screaming as overloads detonated inside their frames. But the sixth made it through untouched, landing hard, only a meter or so from Demi, stabilizers kicking in as it unleashed hell.


    A storm of machine-gun fire ripped through the three-man team that had failed to take it down, their bodies jerking violently as rounds punched through armor, muscle, and bone like wet paper. Blood sprayed against the barricade, their screams drowned out by the relentless roar of gunfire, then cut short as their bodies fell in torn, broken heaps.


    A spearman standing nearby roared in fury, launching his weapon with an overhead throw, giving it everything he had. The spear piercing through the air, slamming into the base of the machine¡¯s neck, making the machine stumble and lodging itself in place. But nothing happened.


    "PUMP!" he roared in anger at the two stunned comrades beside him, snapping them back to reality.


    They wrenched the cranks, hands fumbling as their adrenaline surged, barely gripping the sweat-slicked handles as they forced energy into the rod. A violent, uncontrolled arc of plasma leapt from the weapon, drilling into the machine¡¯s spine just as it turned to let out another burst, frying its core in an instant. It spasmed once, legs locking up, then collapsed sideways into the spreading pool of shredded bodies and steaming wounds.


    But the two men didn¡¯t stop pumping. The spear fell from the limp robotic pile of metal as the motors relaxed, into the rapidly expanding iron-rich pool of servo-fluid and blood turning into a conduit.


    The energy surged through it like a living thing, arcs of supercharged piezoelectric discharge dancing through the crimson pool. The water in the blood super-heated instantly, pressure building in milliseconds, vaporizing explosively.


    The room erupted in a burst of gore.


    Super-heated iron plasma and shredded organic matter detonated outward in a violent, chaotic spray, scorching everything in its path. The air filled with the sickening stench of burned flesh, the copper tang of liquefied blood hitting like a physical force.


    The two nearby pumpers turned at the last second, just in time to take face full blast of self-inflicted friendly fire filled with their old friends remains, now turned plasma.


    The iron plasma seared through flesh instantly, boiling eyes inside their sockets, skin peeling away in curling ribbons, nerves obliterated before pain could even register. Their bodies slumped backward, without ever getting the chance to scream, dead before they hit the ground.


    The spearman had taken cover behind a metal desk and had thereby been spared the explosion. He ripped his weapon free from the floor, ending the reaction. The walls no longer white, but covered in crimson gore, slowly sliding down the formerly pristine marble. Breath ragged, chest heaving, staring at the smoldering corpses of the men beside him. His knuckles whitened around the handle. But the sound of mechanical movements no longer existed which gave a second of reprieve.


    ¡°Is that all you got you bureaucratic cock suckers?!¡± the battle-master bellowed triumphant.


    But both the reprieve and excitement of battle, lasted only a breath.


    The air felt thick, the smell of iron and charred flesh everywhere, blood dripping from the ceiling four meters above them. Yet what got the rest of the brotherhood to widen their eyes in uncontrollable fear was neither the smell, nor the visual input. It was the sound.


    A sound of something whirring up, like a washing machine starting to centrifuge with a fistful of marbles inside it cut through the air like a guillotine.


    ¡°We surrender!¡± someone tried to cry out over the noise. But their desperate pleas either fell for deaf ears, or maybe they simple couldn¡¯t hear them over the ear-shattering racket.


    Then everything went completely still for a second. The silence deafening to everyone.


    ¡°TAKE COV¡ª¡±


    An enormous ray of supercharged particles blasted through the barricade, melting the iron and steel like plastic in a bonfire, annihilating everything in its path and drowning out the last words of the battle-master. The soldiers caught in the crossfire, were instantly deleted from reality, if they were lucky. While the unlucky were only strafed with the beam, cutting through them like they didn¡¯t even exist. Limps and torsos removed. The wounds seared shut instantly from the extreme heat.


    Screams rang out over the hallway, as the rain started to fall.


    Not of rain of water and sweet relief, but of molten metallic office furniture blobs, that poured down of the resistance against tyranny, their fortification turned into a new circle of hell, where instant death was preferable to the slow agonizing death of raining metallic substances.


    The blazing droplets came cascading down on them, a white-hot downpour that clung to fabric, armor and flesh. It melted its way through their defenses instantaneously. A few lucky one died immediately, reduced to twisted, blackened husks before they could even scream. Others writhed and convulsed, their skin sloughing away in molten sheets, nerve endings firing until there was nothing left to register the pain. A few and truly desperate turned their weapons on themselves, choosing a bullet through the head, rather than the agonizing death of raining metal.


    ¡°Stop!, STOP!¡± Demi cried, trying to deafen the sound of his partners in crime screaming out in agony. He had hidden behind the metal table set up to protect him from the fight. He alone was still unscathed behind his small one man fortification, he curled up into a fetal position and started crying. He could hear the screams die out as his friends died off and the footsteps of the armada slowly approaching.


    A hand grabbed his collar, yanking him off the ground and electrocuted him. His world went dark, the last thing he saw was the giant hole in the elevator, the wire seared through. He had done his job, the brotherhood would prevail. He was sure of it.

 Shorts - Chapter 3.4

    The room smelled of disinfectant, a sterile blend of antiseptic and recycled air, doing little to mask the underlying scent of sweat and stale linens. Soft beeps from the monitors punctuated the silence, tracking Lucien¡¯s vitals with unrelenting precision.


    Across from him, the doctor leaned back slightly in his chair, rubbing a hand over the short buzz-cut of his red hair, his brow furrowed as he tapped absentmindedly against his tablet. He looked young, mid-thirties at most, but impossible to pinpoint. Sharp green eyes betraying a mind already cycling through possible diagnoses in his mind¡¯s eye. The stark white of his coat contrasted with his tired posture, the sleeves pushed up slightly, revealing lean, freckled forearms.


    He let out a slow breath before speaking.


    ¡°So... You¡¯re telling me you¡¯ve been having continuous nightmares for four years?¡± His gaze shifted between Lucien and his mother, as if gauging how much of that information was new to her.


    Lucien¡¯s mother sat stiffly beside the hospital bed, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles had turned pale. She barely reacted as Lucien nodded.


    ¡°And these nightmares started shortly after you moved to Edu-4 for your education?¡±


    Lucien hesitated before answering, glancing toward his mother. He had downplayed the details, leaving out the most disturbing elements, the feeling of something pressing into his mind, the whispers that bled into wakefulness. Yet, even with his vague explanation, she looked as if all the blood had drained from her face.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you call me?¡± she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°You could have talked to me about this. Maybe I could have helped you. I mean...¡±


    Lucien sighed, rubbing his temples, feeling the faint ridge of stitches hidden beneath the gauze at the side of his head.


    ¡°Mom, there¡¯s nothing you could have done. There¡¯s nothing anyone can do, I think. But I have talked to Jan, and he has been a huge help. I need to feel like an adult mom, I¡¯m nearly thirty. I¡¯ve also talked to a somnologist and neuroscientist, that might be able to help¡±.


    He caught himself before mentioning what they had planned, sparing her another breakdown, and sparing him the embarrassment of flushing at the thought of her.


    ¡°Or... I mean, she has helped me.¡± He forced a reassuring smile, though it felt hollow. ¡°She gave me some advice I¡¯m trying to follow.¡±


    His mother exhaled sharply, a sound Lucien knew all too well, a mix of frustration and disappointment.


    ¡°Lucien,¡± she said, her tone laced with restrained anger. ¡°You should have told me.¡±


    Lucien lowered his gaze, swallowing back his irritation. She was right... She was always right, but that didn¡¯t make the conversation any easier. His stomach twisted with frustration; a bubbling heat he knew wouldn¡¯t lead anywhere productive.


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    ¡°I know, Mom...¡± he muttered, voice flat. The words felt like a concession, something said just to end the conversation.


    The doctor cleared his throat, cutting through the tension.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll be honest. Your head injury is my primary concern right now.¡± His tone had shifted, more clinical, though not unkind. He gestured vaguely to the side of Lucien¡¯s head. ¡°You suffered significant trauma when you collapsed. Your RFID port was shattered, which, unfortunately meant surgery.¡±


    The way he said it was so monotone and carefree, Lucien nearly got angry at him. But, he didn¡¯t say anything and his fingers instinctively traced the sore area behind his ear instead.


    ¡°We had to remove the fragments and replace it with a new unit.¡± The doctor paused, studying him for a beat, pointing at Luciens ear. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, honestly. If any of the pieces had been lodged deeper, we¡¯d be having a very different conversation right now.¡±


    Lucien nodded slowly, processing the weight of those words.


    ¡°So¡­ I blacked out and just smashed my head into my table?¡±


    The doctor¡¯s brow knit together, his fingers tapping twice against his tablet.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just a normal collapse,¡± he said carefully. ¡°Your vitals were erratic when emergency services got to you. Severe elevated heart rate, muscle convulsions, resembling a seizure, though not quite textbook.¡±


    Lucien¡¯s stomach sank. He didn¡¯t remember any of that, his mother paler than ever.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying I had a seizure?¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± the doctor admitted. ¡°But something triggered an extreme physiological response. Stress, maybe. Or something neurological.¡± He paused before adding, ¡°I¡¯m more concerned about what you experienced right before it happened.¡±


    Lucien glanced at his mother. She was already looking at him, her concern unmistakable.


    The time dilation, space warping into impossible lengths. The voices speaking to him while awake, chanting. It had pressed into his mind like a living thing, whispering those words, he still felt the experience clearly in the back of his mind.


    Lucien hesitated. If he told the doctor that, what would they do? Lock him up in observation? Prescribe something to sedate him further? No fucking way.


    So, he swallowed the truth, carefully choosing his words.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember much, Jan left, and I went to get some coffee. Maybe I simply tripped...¡±


    The doctor didn¡¯t look convinced.


    ¡°Lucien,¡± his mother pressed.


    He clenched his jaw. ¡°I was just¡­ stressed. Maybe Jan and I overdid it with the research.¡±


    The doctor leaned forward slightly.


    ¡°What research?¡±


    Lucien immediately regretted saying anything.


    ¡°Just eeh, some programming things for school.¡± He forced a small, dismissive shrug. ¡°We¡¯re experimenting with AI generated computer games.


    The doctor exhaled through his nose but didn¡¯t push further. Instead, he scrolled through his tablet, glancing over something before speaking.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said, ¡°right now, I don¡¯t want you worrying about that. Your body just went through a significant trauma, and regardless of what caused it, you need to rest. I¡¯d suggest taking it easy for the next few weeks. No extreme stress, no strenuous work, and definitely no sleep deprivation.¡±


    Lucien suppressed a bitter laugh at that last part.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± the doctor continued. ¡°Whatever this is, we need to monitor it. If the episodes continue, you need to come back immediately. Understood?¡±


    Lucien nodded, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure if he meant it.


    His mother reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.


    ¡°Promise me, Lucien.¡±


    He forced himself to meet her gaze. She looked so much older than he remembered, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with age.


    He sighed, his voice quieter. ¡°I promise.¡±


    They looked at each other, and knew there was no truth in the words.

 Shorts - Chapter 3.5

    The park east/southeast of Lucien¡¯s apartment was bathed in golden light. The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm streams through the entire city, illuminating the gravel paths that lazily meandered through fields of wildflowers, legumes and trees. The air was still, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant trickle of a fountain blending into the hum of the city beyond the trees. Lavender and jasmine filled the air with their soft fragrance, and ripe Victoria plums hung in small clusters, their deep purple skins catching the light.


    As Lucien reached for a plum, a strange sensation tugged at the edge of his mind. A couple walked by with a stroller, the baby inside blabbering. It had been years since he had seen a baby and a stroller, and now here was an identical stroller, its Bordeaux fabric catching the rays of the Sun.


    He turned, stepping onto a narrow dirt path carved by countless shortcut-seekers. Ducking beneath the low branch of an apple tree, sprouting small fruitlets.


    He took a small leap over a ledge, dropping half a meter before landing in stride. Ready to move up a dried out swale on the other side of the decline.


    ¡°Hello.¡±


    A light, calculated voice greeted him from a bench, half-hidden beneath the apple tree with low its branches lazily stretching over the path.


    Lucien glanced at the speaker, she was a petite yet muscular woman, definitely a few years younger than him. Her eyes caught the veiled light, reflecting a deep blue color back at him. He nodded, hesitating.


    ¡°Eeh, hello yourself,¡± he murmured, still caught off guard by the unexpected greeting. He tried to smile, but it felt forced.


    ¡°Sorry, you eh, just startled me, I didn¡¯t see you there¡± he added quickly, biting into the plum. Juice trickled down his chin, yet somehow, the fruit lacked flavor. She just kept looking at him, sort of expecting him to say something more. His brow furrowed. ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d certainly hope so.¡± The woman¡¯s tone remained playful as she stood up, yet there was an edge of seriousness beneath.


    ¡°I mean, you kind of dragged me directly into this.¡± She gestured widely, pointing at everything and nothing at once.


    Lucien¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°What?¡±


    She suddenly lurched toward him, too close, invading his private space until the delicate contours of her cheekbones and her rose colored lips nearly touching his chin.


    She studied him, sniffed the air, her gaze flicking up and down his body. Then, with eyes wide and deep as a doe¡¯s, she met his stare. Then, without hesitation, she shoved him backward."


    ¡°Hey!¡± Lucien barked, stumbling a step away, nearly tripping up the swale. ¡°What the hell was that for?¡±


    ¡°Look at the clouds.¡±


    Annoyed, he exhaled sharply, ready to argue. ¡°What are you talking about... It¡¯s sun-¡±


    His words cut off.


    The golden sunset vanished. Above him, thick, swirling clouds devoured the sky, plunging the world into a dim, eerie twilight. The warmth of the evening was gone, stolen away in an instant.


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    A sudden gust of wind rushed past, sending dry, brown leaves skittering across the ground.


    Lucien shivered. Something felt wrong.


    ¡°Weird, huh?¡± The woman¡¯s voice remained calm, but a hint of exasperation curled around her words. ¡°Brown leaves. In the middle of summer. And your plum..¡± She pointed at his hand.


    Lucien¡¯s gaze dropped to his hands. His fingers clutched nothing.


    His stomach lurched.


    ¡°The fuck is happening?¡± His breath came faster now, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Take a deep breath and relax,¡± she instructed, demonstrating as she lifted her hands beneath her chin, inhaling slowly. ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to tell you something, and you need to stay calm, okay?¡±


    Lucien gave a stiff nod, focusing on his breathing, yet kept his guard up as this beautiful, yet batshit crazy bitch had just showed him for no reason. The wind had begun to settle.


    ¡°Alright.¡± She exhaled. ¡°Here goes¡­ You¡¯re dreaming.¡± She spread her arms, motioning to their surroundings. ¡°And this? This is your dream. ¡°A slender finger pointed directly at him ¡°A nice, calm one, exactly how I want it to be. But!¡± She paused, letting the words sink in. ¡°I am not part of this dream.¡± Again, gesturing to the world ¡°I¡¯m here because you let me in, because you trapped me, and now, I need you to let me out again.¡±


    Lucien recoiled. ¡°What are you talking about, that doesn¡¯t make any sense?!¡±


    She let out a sharp breath, frustration creeping in. ¡°What do you think I¡¯m talking about? And how does this not make sense to you, your subconscious is completely open for anyone to enter, yet it¡¯s very hard to leave. This is your dream. You need to let me out.¡±


    Lucien shook his head. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what kind of game you¡¯re playing, but I don¡¯t want any part of it... I¡¯m not dreaming.¡± He turned sharply and walked toward his apartment door.


    ¡°Wait! Just one question,¡± the woman called after him, her voice laced with urgency and a hint of despair. ¡°And I promise, I¡¯ll leave you alone.¡±


    Lucien hesitated, glancing back.


    She met his gaze. ¡°Where are we right now?¡±


    ¡°What kind of question is that? We¡¯re in the Northeastern second ring park¡± he scoffed, throwing out his arm in irritation.


    The woman tilted her head. ¡°Oh okay. And is your front door usually right next to the park?¡±


    Lucien opened his mouth, then froze. Before him, his apartment building stood in the middle of the park, it had replaced a small kiosk dispensary that gave out ice cream and hot dogs.


    His pulse hammered in his throat. His fingers twitched. The world around him darkened, the colors quickly fading into a lifeless monochrome. Thin wisps of static shot through the landscape, eliminated the structures around them, distorting the edges of reality like signal noise on an old television creeping in from the sides. His mind felt heavy, reality began to fade to black as his conscious mind slowly waking.


    ¡°Hey¡ªhey! Relax!¡± The woman¡¯s voice wavered slightly, as if she weren¡¯t entirely sure how to handle the situation. Lucien was on the verge of self-induced panic. The landscape began crumbling further, the void of awakeness creeping through his dreamscape.


    In desperation, the woman stepped forward, got on her toes and kissed him with a strong passion, placing her hands on his cheeks. The taste of strawberries ripped Lucien back to his dream, his conscious mind shut down by a hopeful, slightly pornographic fantasy.


    ¡°I need you to listen to me,¡± she pressed, releasing his lips, her tone shifting to something steadier. ¡°Don¡¯t try to figure this out right now. Just focus on what feels right. Look at the flowers, see how vibrant they are? Can you hear the birds? The tickling on your lips?¡± She smiled softly ¡°Just focus on the sensations.¡±


    Lucien swallowed hard. Slowly, the static faded. The colors and structures slowly returning to the world.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she coaxed. Taking his hand ¡°Breathe slowly. Observe. Notice the world. Just go with the flow.¡± She let go of him. Took a step back and observed him. With an accepting nod she sat down into a perfect lotus position and patted the grass beside her. ¡°Come on. Sit with me.¡±


    The warping lines dissipated, as the midday sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the glade, and the deep forest ahead. The world steadied, rooted itself once more.


    Lucien exhaled, cautiously lowering himself onto the grass.


    The woman smiled faintly. ¡°Good job, and what a beautiful scenery.¡±


    She leaned back on her hands, tilting her face toward the sunlight, the layers of animal skin pressing against the soft curves of her chest, accentuating her form beneath the rugged fabric ¡°I¡¯m Anara, by the way.¡±

 Shorts - Chapter 3.6

    ¡°Take cover!¡±.


    The sound of automatic gunfire echoed in the endless underground facility. Only to be replaced with the constant hum of servers grinding away.


    A black hooded brother in front of Lorien shot back, hitting the security guard in the chest twice, and his head ones. Killing him before he hit the ground.


    Lorien looked up at the disabled robotic turrets, hanging idly from the ceiling, sending a quick thought to Demi. He hated to admit it, but that ugly gremlin looking fuck knew what he was doing.


    ¡°Okay brothers! This is the final push, right around the next corner is the human machine interface. We¡¯re so close to our goal now¡±.


    A sudden whirring of propellers tore through the air, fast and closing in.


    "Oh shit! EMP grenade, NOW! Bee, cover the hardware!"


    Bee yanked a thin metallic blanket from his pack, its surface shimmering like liquid graphene as he flung it wide. The thing fluttered for half a second before dropping over the equipment, instantly sealing around it like shrink-wrap. With a practiced motion, he tossed the shoulder bag into the center and rolled the whole thing tight.


    Meanwhile another brother jammed his thumb into a pressure port on the grenade, arming it with a sharp mechanical click.


    A high-pitched whine spiked upward, the core humming violently as a pulse of blue light shimmered across its surface. The drone swarm was almost on them.


    Like a swarm of Enraged wasps, the drones ripped through the corridor. The first drone raced passed Lorien, calculating that the biggest threat amongst the intruders wasn¡¯t their leader, but something else entirely. The grenade.


    It slammed into the brother holding the EMP detonating on impact, leaving a crater of blood and gore where the head had been a second earlier. The grenade slipped from his hand as he fell lifeless to the floor, exploding a tenth of a second later, bathing the area in a sickly blue light for a split second.


    ¡°GET DOWN!¡± Lorien blared over the noise, throwing himself to the ground covering his head, as pieces of skull, three dozen drones and a mix of blood and brains came hurling through the air.


    With propellers still roaring away from pure inertia, the drones crashed into the first available objects on their path, ripping into exposed flesh and clothing, or skittering across the hard polished light-gray stone floor with noisy audible clanks.


    Just in front of Lorian, two of his best friends through the past five years were dead or dying.


    One knelt upright on his knees, his hands weakly clutching at his throat, but it was useless. Blood spraying from the gaping hole where his neck used to be, painting the floor in front him in jagged scarlet lines.


    The other had been pinned to the reinforced glass wall, several rotor blades buried deep in his torso. His skin hung in long, ragged strips, blood pouring in a steady stream from the wounds.


    His breath rattled, shallow and wheezing, his muscles spasmed in a futile attempt to flee, the man too far gone to scream, too weak to fight.


    Seeing red Lorien jumped to his feet, bolting down the corridor nearly before landing like a raging bull.


    ¡°Fucking bitches!¡± Lorien roared in a near nonhuman guttural scream, as he jumped to his feet, bolting down the corridor like a raging bull, with two pistols raised in front in of him in stretched arms. A modern gladiator filled with blood lust.


    A single shot cracked through the main corridor, the bullet whipping through the cold air like a spear, finding its mark in the exposed face of a peeking security guard.


    The man''s upper teeth shattered like glass, his mouth ripped apart in an explosion of bone and flesh. He collapsed backward, gargling on his own blood, hands clawing at the gaping hole where his jaw had once been.


    Lorien continued his enraged charge, as returning gunfire rang out in front of him, multiple bullets lodging themselves into Lorien thick body armor. He grunted in pain as he fired his guns, one of his ribs clearly broken. Both his guns clicked, the last bullet slamming directly into the man¡¯s skulls, killing him instantly.


    Lorien slammed into the bullet-riddled corpse still standing, hoisting it up as a makeshift shield while charging the last security guard wielding a machine gun. The human shield absorbed the brunt of the gunfire, but stray rounds ripped through Lorien¡¯s exposed legs, sending blinding spikes of pain through his nerves.


    He hurled the mangled body forward just as the machine gun clicked empty. Losing balance, he stumbled on his shattered legs, collapsing into a rough roll across the floor. The corpse crashed into the guard, knocking him off balance and sending him stumbling backward, until he plunged through a glass pane into the operator room.


    The guard scrambled to his feet, pointing his pistol at Lorien that laid sprawling on the blood covered floor.


    A piece of sharpened rebar ripped the air just over Lorien head. Lodging itself in the last standing security guard with a loud crunch. The shot tore his torso apart, hurling him backwards, his remains just missing the control panel by half a meter.


    Bee sprinted in, catching up to his fearless leader, who now lay on the floor, writhing in pain.


    ¡°Oh shit boss!¡± Bee stammered as he glided on his knees through Luciens blood, to hold his head up.


    ¡°Finish it!¡± Lorien blurted out, before going into a violent cough, spitting up blood. He pushed Bee away from him while pointing desperately at the terminal.


    Bee got up slowly, then rushed to the console, tearing away the graphene-coated shield he had used to protect his backpack from the EMP blast, just moments before everything descended into carnage.


    Before him, the quantum computer stood in eerie silence, a monolithic structure of polished alloy and intricate latticework, suspended within a vacuum-sealed chamber behind reinforced graphene-glass. Unlike the bulky, sprawling setups of the early 21st century, this model was sleek, compact¡ªits golden cryogenic plates stacked like an inverted chandelier, humming with unseen energy. Superconducting cables coiled around its core in elegant spirals, pulsating faintly with the controlled chaos of quantum states shifting at unimaginable speeds. The chamber itself was pristine, lit only by the soft, ghostly glow of embedded diagnostics flickering across the smooth inner walls. At its base, an array of optical processors and cooling systems quietly expelled streams of hyper-cooled gas, ensuring the qubits remained trapped in their delicate dance between existence and oblivion.


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    He tore the backpack open, ripping the zipper off in the process, and pulled out a small hand-held device along with a near-perfect cube of smoky black material, its surface shifting subtly, as though light itself struggled to define its edges. It was unnervingly smooth, almost frictionless to the touch, and seemed to drink in the ambient glow of the failing emergency lights.


    He opened the box with utmost care, and pulled out a long strand of what looked writhing Play-doh.


    He pressed the doh into the crevice of the terminal. Its surface rippled like liquid mercury, shifting and molding itself to fit into the crevice with unnatural precision.


    Bee took his handheld device and began vigorously typing away on his device as the living goo moved around inside the terminal, writhing into the locking mechanisms.


    After what felt like ages, a firm click rang out from the terminal, and the lid became loose.


    Bee clenched his jaw, forcing himself to block out the chaos around him. He yanked hard on the panel, ripping the metal cover free from its magnetic locks, covered in the writhing metallic material. Beneath it, the exposed wiring glowed faintly, security tracers pulsing like a slow heartbeat, a final line of defense against intruders. He had seconds. Maybe less.


    Ignoring the flickering warnings, his fingers found the CatX cable, a high-density quantum-classical link designed to funnel petabytes of data per second¡ªthe city¡¯s neural spine. The key to everything.


    He hesitated, just for a breath, and turned his head.


    Lorien lay sprawled on the blood-slicked floor, his breath shallow, eyes locked onto him. He blinked slowly, watching his friend work. A weak, knowing smile curved his lips, though no words came. Blood seeped from his ruined body, pooling beneath him, reflecting the distant skylights high above.


    With a sharp click, Bee pressed the cable into his handheld device.


    // Establishing QCI Handshake...


    // WARNING: Unauthorized Access Attempt Detected.


    // Quantum SecureTrust v5.8 Active ¨C Certificate Challenge in Progress.


    ¡°Not for long¡± Bee muttered for himself.


    He launched a forged QCC, spoofing a valid identity from within the QNP stack. The system hesitated, caught between rejecting the request and authenticating the deep-encrypted key. For a fraction of a second, it wavered.


    That was all he needed.


    // Access Granted ¨C QCL Privileged Mode Engaged.


    ¡°GG no re, you piece of shit¡± He began to smile


    The QSS Interpreter spun up, translating raw classical binary commands into executable QIS sequences. At this level, he wasn¡¯t just interfacing with a computer he was hijacking the quantum cognition layer itself.


    He bashed in the final sequences.


    // Overwrite in Progress...


    The system screamed in protest! Bees device flashing with a ton of errors, warnings and messages, he quickly filtered the results to critical errors.


    // QNP ERROR: PROBABILIY WAVE COLLAPSE DETECTED


    // CORE QUBIT STATE DETERIORATION ¨C 67% STABLE


    // ERROR CORRECTION SATURATION EXCEEDED


    // SYSTEM FAILSAFE OVERRIDE ENGAGED


    The lights flickered as the quantum mainframe struggled against him, its probability lattice fracturing under the weight of corrupted logic gates. The cooling system dumped cryogenic stabilizers, desperately trying to prevent decoherence, but Bee had already passed the threshold.


    The QNP wasn¡¯t just failing, it was forgetting itself.


    Liquid helium started pouring out of the cooling tubes, instantly transforming into gas as it expanded into the chamber. The pressure in the vacuum chamber spiked, and even better the temperature rapidly started to rise. What had been a controlled low-pressure environment was now turning into a pressurized containment failure.


    Cryogenic fog billowed around the quantum core as the rapid phase transition from liquid to gas robbed the system of its last vestiges of stability. Sensors blared:


    // CRYOGENIC SYSTEM FAILURE ¨C PRESSURE ESCALATION DETECTED


    // CONTAINMENT BREACH IMMINENT


    // EMERGENCY QUENCH ACTIVATED


    The quantum core¡¯s superconducting circuits¡ªonce maintained at near absolute zero, were now flooded with thermal noise, accelerating decoherence at an uncontrollable rate. The delicate qubits, previously entangled in precise superpositions, collapsed into chaotic probabilistic states, corrupting any meaningful computation.


    Metal groaned under the expanding gas, condensation forming on the chamber¡¯s inner walls before crystallizing into fragile frost. The internal pressure surged past safety thresholds, triggering the automatic emergency venting sequence.


    Bee¡¯s fingers flew across the interface, overriding the emergency venting sequence before it could release the expanding helium gas.


    // EMERGENCY QUENCH OVERRIDE ENGAGED


    // MANUAL CONTAINMENT LOCK INITIATED


    // WARNING: PRESSURE RELIEF SYSTEM DISABLED


    A warning siren erupted as the containment system fought against him, trying to force open the vents. But Bee had already hijacked the quantum-classical interface, locking down the safeties. The system wasn¡¯t going to save itself.


    Inside the vacuum chamber, helium gas continued to expand, compressing against the reinforced casing. The cryogenic fog thickened, obscuring the quantum core as frost formed in jagged veins along the metal.


    CRITICAL PRESSURE ESCALATION ¨C STRUCTURAL LIMIT APPROACHING


    WARNING: QNP ERROR ¨C QUANTUM CASCADE STABILIZATION IMPOSSIBLE


    SUPERCONDUCTING FAILURE ¨C SYSTEM DECOHERENCE IMMINENT


    Bee clenched his jaw. He had seconds before the quantum brain crossed the point of no return. If the helium couldn¡¯t escape, it would keep heating, forcing the superconducting circuits to quench, dumping all stored energy into the system in a catastrophic feedback loop.


    The deep hum of the failing core resonated through the collapsing chamber, a vibration so intense it rattled the reinforced walls and sent hairline fractures through the thick glass panels. The emergency cooling systems had long since failed. The liquid helium, once carefully contained within the system¡¯s delicate infrastructure flooded outward in a violent surge, expanding into a thick, rolling mist that consumed the room, behind the thermal insulating glass. The fog clung to every surface, tendrils of vapor swirling like ghostly veins in the flickering light of the failing displays.


    A sharp metallic crack split through the air as the superconducting circuits, now pushed beyond their limit, finally gave way. One by one, they shattered, sending bursts of raw electrical discharge arcing through the dense mist. The control interfaces flickered wildly, warning displays flashing in meaningless, erratic sequences before fizzling into darkness. The once-sterile hum of precision-engineered systems was now a cacophony of groaning metal, screeching pressure seals, and the sharp, staccato bursts of components failing in rapid succession.


    The vacuum chamber, designed to house the quantum mainframe in perfect isolation, no longer held any control over the system¡¯s runaway decay. The internal pressures surged past critical levels, forcing apart the reinforced plating that had once contained the delicate infrastructure of the city¡¯s most advanced computational engine. Rivets and bolts snapped free from their housings, propelled outward at deadly velocities, ricocheting off the walls in sharp, clattering impacts.


    Bee tried connecting to his cloud storage, but found that he had been disconnected, as the servers began shutting down, cutting of any stored cloud information, that his RFID connected him too.


    At the chamber¡¯s core, the fusion reactor remained, its containment fields rapidly degrading as the finely tuned regulators that had kept it stable for decades, ceased to function. Without the quantum controls to balance its reactions, the reactor¡¯s internal plasma began to churn unpredictably, its violent, barely contained energy seething just beneath the surface of its magnetic confinement. The oscillations grew stronger, pulses of raw heat pressing outward against the thinning walls of its containment vessel.


    Then, the final barrier failed.


    The rupture was instantaneous. The magnetic fields collapsed in a cascading failure, and in less than a millisecond, the plasma, hotter than the core of a star. erupted outward. The explosion didn¡¯t spread in a blast wave but in a pure, radiant burst, a lance of nuclear fire spearing through every level of the EduNet Core, vaporizing steel, circuitry, and flesh alike.


    Bee watched solemnly as the massive blinding light of nuclear holocaust came racing towards him at an alarming speed. Pride written all over his face.