Isaac

  Alexian and Jameth sit shoulder to shoulder on the edge of my bed, knees almost touching the frame. I give them the short version, then cut to the chase.

  “The blackouts weren’t random.”

  Jameth plays shocked. He already knows.

  “They were used to get a drone out. We had to test an escape route.”

  Alexian raises a hand.

  I cut her off before she can speak. “No. Just listen for now.”

  With my Personal, I start the video on Holog. The glow paints their curious faces in shifting blues and greens.

  A nighttime aerial shot shows the airtrain platform near our houses. The timestamp reads 11:28 p.m.

  The platform is empty—no airtrain, only perimeter lights outlining the edge in a clean line.

  “We cut the defenses and used the ventilation shafts. I piloted BB to look for an opening.”

  “BB?” Jameth asks.

  I glance back at them. “BlackBeetle. The drone.”

  Alexian’s mouth is slightly open—visibly rattled.

  “You okay?”

  She nods, not convincing at all.

  “You sure?”

  Another nod. Firmer.

  I bring my fingers back to the holographic controls projected from my Personal. “Now comes the important part.”

  I fast-forward the footage to the right moment.

  “They tell us there’s nothing outside the wall but death. That’s not true.”

  I freeze the frame at 12:51 a.m.

  The feed locks. Night vision shows scrubby, semi-arid ground—and a low hill with one side carved out, like a crude quarry for building materials.

  “Out there, people live like us. Without a Personal. Without all these controls. Not perfect, but…” The pause happens on its own. “Free.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Wait,” Alexian says. “If Syrium lied, there has to be a reason.”

  “I know. But it wasn’t always like this. And that’s why there’s a mission I can’t tell you about.”

  She’s about to jump in again, but I stop her. “Let’s finish the video first.”

  I hit play.

  The view accelerates. The wall appears ahead—an imposing fifty-meter barrier, gray brick fused with steel, built to look indestructible. Searchlights crawl along the ground and sweep the sky in every direction.

  A long line of ventilation ducts runs high along the wall, just below the top—bolted on like a mechanical spine. Every fan spins in perfect sync.

  Then the wall lights and the weapon arrays die all at once—partial blackout, on purpose.

  And one of the fans along the ventilation line grinds to a stop.

  Jameth points at it. “And that?”

  “What do you think?”

  He smiles, like the forbidden detail gives him a hit of satisfaction.

  In my room, both my friends hold their breath. They’re not okay with any of this, but they can’t look away. I can read it in their eyes, lit by the greenish wash of night vision.

  The view slips between the still blades of the one dead duct.

  The image drops to black. Only BB’s flight data remains—altitude, heading, speed—while the timestamp ticks forward.

  “Can’t see anything,” Jameth mutters.

  “Wait…”

  Five seconds later, the sky appears—full of stars. Out here, beyond the Cloud, the night is clearer, and even in the dark you can make out the horizon.

  Night vision cuts off. The drone’s lights come on.

  Alexian and Jameth both exhale.

  “Every time I watch it, I get this feeling of freedom I can’t even explain.”

  “You actually did it,” Alexian whispers, one hand over her mouth.

  “But the best part is now. Watch.”

  The landscape shifts—desert, then scrub, then a darker band of trees. Another hard turn and it becomes sand, and the ocean opens up beyond it, black under the stars.

  A village.

  Houses made of wood and stone. Fires. A building topped with a cross. Fenced pens with animals. The feed is low enough now to catch shadows moving between the houses.

  “It’s beautiful,” Alexian breathes.

  “First time I saw it, I couldn’t breathe either. Some of it—I’d only read about in old books.”

  “What old books?”

  I bite my lip. I’ve said too much.

  I pretend I didn’t hear it. Maybe I can still undo what I just said.

  “Look what happens next.”

  The view descends.

  Six figures stand still on a beach in the dark. Around them, sticks driven into the sand with burning tips—like lamps.

  They all take two steps back—except one. He moves closer and reaches out.

  “Gaspar, no lo toques, es peligroso,” an adult voice says off-camera.

  I pause the video.

  A boy in strange clothes—worn, patched—but smiling. Black hair, bright eyes, sharp cheekbones. He doesn’t look afraid of the drone.

  “They’re not hostile. They’re not alone. And they’re not the only ones.”

  Alexian takes my hand. “I get why you’re curious… but I don’t understand why you’d want to leave and go to them. Here we have everything—health, a future, comfort. Even if they lied to us… maybe it was worth it.”

  “I don’t have to go to them,” I say. “That’s not what this is.”

  I pull my hand back, just enough to breathe. “It’s bigger than that. Complicated. And I can’t lay it all out right now.”

  She searches my face like I’m a stranger.

  “You need to trust me.”

  She shakes her head. “I feel like I’m meeting a different Isaac. How long have you known all this?”

  “I grew up with a different version of history than you did. I’ve had to keep a lot to myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I’m pushing too far, but I don’t think I can back up anymore.

  “I’m talking about the books from before the Great Reset…”