Page 10

Myall

My gaze drifts to her station across the aisle. Her long, golden-brown hair falls over her shoulders, her gray shirt slightly untucked which is against regulation.

I considered taking her to Grandma Elara’s house, the safest and most obvious option for us to meet and talk. But, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to meet my grandmother. I just wanted some time alone with her, like the other night.

I clear my throat softly. “Ziva.”

She looks up, hazel eyes sharp and questioning. Gesturing for her to come closer, she approaches my workstation.

“I have an idea,” I whisper. “About what was in your note.”

Ziva’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face as she leans in closer, her breath warming the space between us. She leans forward, ostensibly examining my monitor as she pretends we’re discussing compliance data. “Go on.”

I keep my eyes on the screen, words measured. “There are places in the city, hidden places. Remnants of…before. We could explore them. See if we could find a suitable location to continue to meet and talk.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, the world fades. It’s just her eyes, locked on mine, the unspoken understanding between us deepening. My gaze drops to the rest of her face, seeing a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“That sounds…interesting,” she says carefully.

I nod, swallowing. “It could be dangerous. But worth it. To find a safe place we can meet. To also understand where we came from. What we’ve lost.”

Ziva straightens, her face a mask of professional indifference. But I catch the gleam in her eye, the slight tremor in her voice as she replies, “I look forward to discussing your findings at shift’s end, Compliance Monitor Hansen.”

As she walks away—her hips swaying softly—I stare at my hands, willing them to stop shaking.

What we’re planning is beyond risk—it feels like teetering on the edge of a cliff, the thrill of the fall mingling with the terror of what lies below.

If Authority Enforcers catch us we will be brought straight to the detention center.

But the thought of showing Ziva those forgotten places, of sharing that connection—it makes me feel more alive than I have in years.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself back into the emotionless facade expected of us before my NeuroMod can dampen my mood.

I can barely focus for the rest of my shift, my constantly thinking about the risks. As the final minutes tick by, I gather my things, taking great care to appear nonchalant.

“Goodnight, Mr. Hansen.” Tara mumbles from the workstation beside mine as she heads for the exit.

“Goodnight,” I reply, watching her leave as Ziva appears beside my workstation, her face a carefully constructed mask of neutrality.

“Shall we walk home together today, Compliance Monitor Hansen?” she asks, her voice steady but her eyes alight with barely contained excitement. She blinks once and the excitement vanishes from her features which makes my jaw clench.

“Of course, Technician Emerson,” I reply, matching her professional tone as we make our way casually towards the exit.

We exit the building, our footsteps echoing in unison as we pass the security checkpoints and step out into the cool, evening air, the hum of the city surrounding us.

“So,” Ziva murmurs, her words barely audible, “where are we really going?”

Resisting the urge to look around, I keep my gaze forward. “First, towards the maglev station. After that, nowhere specific. Just…exploring. Looking for possibilities.”

She nods, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips as she walks in sync beside me. “Sounds intriguing. I’ve always been curious about the city’s…less regulated areas.”

“It’s a risk,” I warn, keeping my voice low. “But if we’re careful, we might find what we need.”

Ziva’s hand brushes mine, a touch that’s gone too soon. “I trust you, Myall.”

I swallow hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral. “Keep an eye out. We need to look like we’re just taking a casual walk home.”

We reach the maglev station and wait for a short while before the sleek, silver train arrives to take us towards my sector of the city. Ziva sits next to me, looking out the window at the rapidly passing cityscape.

I ensure we get off at my station, keeping up the illusion we’re heading home together. We go through the security checkpoints and emerge onto the streets, which are now shrouded in twilight.

Guiding Ziva towards the outskirts of the sector, my eyes scan for potential meeting spots—abandoned buildings, secluded alleyways, anywhere that might offer a moment of privacy.

Ziva’s presence beside me is both comforting and terrifying.

I’m leading her into danger, but the connection between us feels more real than anything I’ve ever felt before.

“What do you think that was?” Ziva whispers, nodding towards a crumbling structure.

At the outskirts, remnants of old buildings stand like ghostly sentinels, relics from the time before The Harmonization Authority took control.

It’s forbidden for citizens to come here, but I’ve managed to sneak out enough times during my childhood to explore.

From my experiences, I know it’s not as heavily guarded as The Authority wants us to believe.

Squinting, I try to imagine its original purpose. “Maybe…a theater? A place where people used to gather and listen to music or watch things.”

Her eyes widen, drinking in the forbidden sight. “It’s beautiful, even in ruins.”

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. “Yeah. It is.”

Or at least, it was.

Glancing around, ensuring we’re alone and that there are no drones flying overhead, I guide Ziva towards a narrow alley tucked between two dilapidated buildings.

“This way,” I say, as we step over the cracked pavement. “I’ve explored some of these passages before.”

Ziva follows close behind, her curiosity palpable, and I can see her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, mirroring my own.

“How did you find these?” she whispers, her slender fingers trailing along the rough brick walls as we step into a hidden alleyway.

“Desperation,” I admit, ducking under a low-hanging pipe. “And a lot of sleepless nights spent wandering as a teenager.”

We navigate a maze of forgotten alleyways.

The air is thick with dust that clings to my skin, and the remnants of a world that once thrived seem to hang in the air—bittersweet, a reminder of lost freedom.

I can’t help but marvel at Ziva’s agility as she maneuvers through the obstacles with ease. She almost seems…graceful.

“It’s like a whole other world down here,” Ziva breathes, her eyes glistening in the dim light.

I nod, feeling a surge of warmth at the wonder on her face. “It’s a glimpse of what once was, before—”

“Before Harmonization,” she finishes, her tone bitter.

We round a corner, and my breath catches. There, hidden behind years of neglect, is a rusted metal door. “This is it,” I whisper, my hand hovering over the handle. “Beyond this…it’s territory The Authority has abandoned. It’s forbidden to all citizens.”

Ziva’s expression is guarded. “Are you sure about this, Myall?”

Meeting her gaze, I see my own conflicted emotions reflected back at me. “No,” I admit. “But I’m sure I want to find out what’s on the other side. With you.”

Her hand finds mine, squeezing gently before intertwining our fingers. The simple touch sends a jolt of warmth through me, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. “Then let’s do it.”

With a deep breath, I push open the door and step into the forgotten space, my eyes widening as they adjust to the dimness.

My NeuroMod registers the darkness of the room, and a soft blue light emits.

The room is filled with relics of another time, each item a silent witness to a world lost to the ages, reflecting a time when art and passion thrived, unshackled by the cold hand of regulation.

“Look at this,” I murmur, gesturing with the light of my NeuroMod to a large canvas propped against the wall. It’s a riot of colors, vibrant and chaotic, each stroke pulling me deeper into the artist’s turmoil. “Can you imagine creating something like this now?”

Ziva turns, her fingers hovering just above the surface of the painting. “It’s… chaotic,” she says, her voice hushed. “But beautiful. I can almost feel the artist’s emotions pouring out of it.”

I nod, unable to look away from the intensity in her eyes, trying to read the unspoken thoughts behind her gaze. “That’s what art used to be about. Expressing the inexpressible.”

Ziva’s eyes soften, her face a mirror of longing and something else—something raw. “How do you think it made people feel? To look at something like this every day?”

“Alive,” I respond automatically, the word catching in my throat. “I think it made them feel alive—like they were truly here, in the moment.”

We move deeper into the abandoned room, discovering sculptures twisted into impossible shapes, their forms defying the rigid structure of our current world. Ziva runs her hand along the curve of one, her touch reverent.

“It’s so different from anything in the city,” she muses. “Everything there is so… sterile. So calculated.”

Emotionless.

I feel a pang in my chest, recognizing the longing in her voice. “That’s the point, isn’t it? To keep us from feeling too much, from questioning The Authority and what they’ve taken from us.”

Ziva’s eyes meet mine in the dim light, a glimmer of defiance in them. “But… we’re already questioning, aren’t we? Just by being here, standing in the middle of all this,” she says, gesturing around the room.

Swallowing hard, I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re standing and how good it feels, holding her hand in mine. “Yeah, we are.”

She nods, her gaze dropping to a small figurine cradled in her other hand. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like? To feel everything, without the restraint of the NeuroMods?”