PART 1 + CHAPTER ONE

“SHE LOVES ME. SHE LOVES ME NOT.”

A chilly draft sweeps through the platform of Terminal C. Two watery eyes trace a line from crumpled edge to edge of paper, awaiting the arrival of Engine 107. The figure to whom the pair belongs to stands apart from the crowd, pressed into cracked concrete under flickering lights. A shiver runs through him. Pressing his thumb into the wax seal, he reads it for the tenth time. It still didn't seem real.

COMMUNIQUE TO FIRST DEPARTMENT PERSONNEL OF LUCENT UNDERCITADEL
BE ADVISED: PURGE PROTOCOL IS IN EFFECT IN 168 MANHOURS
INITIATE DETAINMENT OF DOCUMENTED DISSENTERS CLASS 1 THROUGH 3

Cory can see his breath. Every lungful of air was a struggle with the life support so overworked. But the nip that stung his fingers and toes even beneath the woolen gloves and enclosed boots made him feel like an asthmatic. He sneezed. This icebox would be the death of him. Maybe he'd use the pilfered wallet in his pocket to barter for a nice windbreaker. Departmentals always carried tidy sums.

TERMINAL A - B TO BE SHUT DOWN IMMEDIATELY AFTER DISPATCH
ENFORCE QUARANTINE WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE
REPORTED DISSENTERS AND INSURGENT SYMPATHIZERS
IN CUSTODY
HAVE CEDED CITIZENSHIP
TREAT WITH CAUTION: LETHAL FORCE AUTHORIZED

Cory swallows hard and tries to appear casual in the semishadow. An armed man trudges past draped from the head down in scarves, ammunition pouches, and a longcoat. His cut-down rifle glints. He pays Cory no mind, merely looking bored. Trainguard. Just look casual. Thirty seconds after he disappears around a pillar Cory almost audibly sighs in relief but forces it back down like an unwanted yawn. Stay cool. If not for him - for her.

SUSPECTED DISSENTER OPERATIONS COMPRISE:
PROPAGANDIZATION
WEAPONS SMUGGLING
VIRAL BOMBS
ASSAULT OF PUBLIC OFFICIALS
BLACKBOOK ARTS

Risako wasn't a bad girl. A bit misguided sure. The shouting matches she'd had with Cory at the end of their tenure together still hurt. How she called him a hapless drone with no morals. Just cause all he wanted out of life was a cup of roast and warm sheets. They'd split, and as far as he was aware she was back with her parents still cooking up bombs and defacing murals or whatever anarchists did.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: WE ARE THE LAST HOPE FOR HUMANITY
PUT ASIDE YOUR FEARS
AND YOUR DOUBTS
NOTHING SUPERSEDES
THE VITALITY OF OUR MISSION FOR MANKIND

The man's eyes drift to the last article on the page. First Department's rallying cry.

THE STRUGGLE IS WON

Cory tears the letter to shreds with reluctance and bins the remains. He hoped Risako would wise up on his word alone cause he sure as hell wasn’t walking through a checkpoint with hard evidence. Follow him elsewhere to lay low. He was struck with the vaguely romantic notion of running away with his ex to elope. The idea lingered in his mind but he shook it off. Survival first. Let's see where he stood with the woman he loved when summary execution didn't lay around the corner.

Engine 107 thundered into the station with a screech, shooting sparks into the air. A computerized voice announces that boarding shall begin promptly and Cory complies. Soon bound for Terminal A.

Time for a heartfelt reunion.

Or bitter closure.

CHAPTER TWO

“WE’RE HERE TO SUFFER. TOGETHER.”

Cory has thoughts. A lot of them. He's the thinker, the planner, the guy who's always three steps ahead. When he has to punch in for his routine shift, he's already contemplating the day's end. The ration dispensaries and their arbitrary price hikes, a constant mental calculation. What synthfur parka to don for the bitter cold. Practical things. Pragmatic things. Survival things.

Blank. That’s all he can dredge up right now. Pure, unfiltered, blank.

Cold seeps into the soles of his boots. Terminal C fades into the distance, swallowed by halogen haze. His breath is a ghost in the frigid air. Dissipating as quickly as his resolve.

He watches the other passengers, their faces etched with the same weariness that comes from living under the constant hum of the Megastructure. Their eyes don't meet. They all know the unspoken rule: See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing.

The train rattles on. The fog lifts a little. The first thing that materializes isn’t his ex. It’s a vision. An imagined future. He sees himself, sitting in a manacled chair inside a dimly lit room. Gloved hands reach for tweezers. He’s begging, sobbing, pleading for mercy.

Unheard. With a surgical nonchalance cold steel tears out his sight.

Cory jolts back to reality with a start. He wants to scream. He chokes it down. For her? God, please.

His hand instinctively reaches for the pocket with the pilfered wallet. He feels the weight of the credits there. Suddenly all this seemed very idiotic. He was marked. Dead already. Why had he taken it? They were going to do terrible things to him. And for what? A woman he didn’t understand, one he didn’t know? Had never really known?

Something inside him broke. He felt ashamed that he’d been so determined minutes prior. But now he was his old self again. The one that could think clearly. A new plan crystallizes in his thoughts. Use the credits, secure a new identity. A broker could get him a passport. Maybe he could erase this whole sordid affair from his life.

The train decelerates as it approaches Terminal A, the grinding of brakes echoing like a death knell. Cory rises, his legs stiff from tension. The doors slide open with a hiss, and he steps out into the fray.

Terminal A is a cacophony of voices and footsteps. The air is thick with the smell of oil and sweat. The terminal is alive with the buzz of people on the move, but the energy is frantic, desperate. Mass exodus under the guise of a routine commute. The loudspeakers announce another Breach.

Cory disappears into the crowd. The communique's words play on loop. Purge Protocol. Detainment. Lethal force. No way, no how. With every every step he feels more and more like his sanity is back. No romantic bullshit. It wasn’t him. He wasn’t the hero of any love story.

Of course. That’s why his feet immediately depart in the direction of the Terminal A municipal parkground. Where they’d been together after curfew. Where they first kissed. Where Risako never stopped looking into his eyes and her hand slid under his and then his waistband and all he could do was look dumbfounded sitting on that crappy swingset and-

He WAS an idiot.


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Pub: 05 Jan 2025 17:17 UTC

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