Page 13

Ziva

My fingers tremble as I pack up my tools, a storm of emotions raging inside me. I discreetly slip the broken NeuroMod and a few tools up the sleeve of my uniform, praying that I’ll make it through the security checkpoint without issue.

The weight of what’s happened presses against my chest, urging me to share it with Myall. But the ever-watchful cameras and Lena’s scrutinizing gaze hold me back. I force myself to maintain a neutral expression as I gather my things, acutely aware of Myall’s proximity.

“Goodnight, Ziva,” he calls out, his voice carefully casual.

I turn, meeting his gaze. “Goodnight, Myall.” The words carry a hidden promise.

I’ll tell him tomorrow.

I leave the facility, the possibility of dismantling the system that has controlled us for so long sending a rush through me. But with it comes the terrifying realization of what we’re risking. I quicken my pace, desperate to return home and continue my research in the safety of my unit.

Once inside my unit, I barely pause to remove my boots before diving back into my work. I spread the NeuroMod components across my small kitchen table, the rough wood surface worn from years of use.

I work quickly, the cool night air wafting through the window carrying distant sounds of the city—hushed whispers of a world that continues without me. Hours slip by unnoticed as I lose myself in circuits and code trying to figure out how the glitch happened and how I can replicate it.

“If I can just isolate this frequency,” I mutter to myself, adjusting a tiny component. “There has to be a way to—”

A sudden beep from my datapad startles me. It’s a generic reminder about tomorrow’s work schedule, but it snaps me back to reality. Glancing at the time, I’m shocked to see how late it’s gotten.

Leaning back, I rub my eyes.

Focus, Ziva. This is bigger than you. Bigger than Myall. This could change everything for a lot of people.

But even as I dive back into my work, Myall’s face floats in my mind. His gentle encouragement, the intensity in his eyes when we spoke earlier. The warm sensation that floods through my body every time he touches me.

Even now, just thinking about him, I feel a warmth spreading through my body, a flutter in my stomach. I shake my head, trying to clear the distracting thoughts.

“Emotions are a liability,” I remind myself, echoing the mantra we’ve been taught since childhood. But for the first time, doubt stirs within me.

I make another adjustment to the NeuroMods circuitry. A small light flickers, then stabilizes. “Yes!” I whisper, a rush of triumph surging through me. It’s a tiny victory, but it feels monumental.

Leaning in closer, I scrutinize the inner workings of the device. “If I can replicate this malfunction…trigger it at will…” My voice trails off as the implications hit me.

Freedom from constant emotional regulation. The ability to feel, truly feel , without fear of detection.

My hands shake slightly as I reach for my notebook, scribbling down my findings. “Myall needs to see this,” I murmur, then catch myself. The mention of his name sends a warm flutter through my chest once more.

I pause, pen hovering above the page, a deep ache growing in my chest.

What are we doing, Myall?

I imagine his deep green eyes, the way they seem to see right through me.

This isn’t just about dismantling the system anymore, is it?

Closing my eyes, I allow myself a moment to indulge in the fantasy. Myall and I, free to explore our emotions, our connection…our bodies. No hiding, no fear. The image is so vivid, so achingly desirable, that it almost hurts.

We need to meet. But where? How?

The logistics of finding a safe meeting place seem insurmountable. Every public space is monitored, every private conversation potentially overheard and recorded.

I return to my work. As I tinker with the NeuroMod, I find myself imagining Myall’s hands instead of my own, his fingers brushing against mine as we work together to unravel the secrets of the device.

Stop thinking about him.

The longing lingers, sharp and unyielding, beneath every thought. I need to share my discoveries with him, but it’s not just that. I need to see him. I need to switch his NeuroMod off and confirm if this connection between us is real, that I’m not alone with these burning feelings and desires.

As the night wears on, my determination grows alongside my breakthroughs. I set down my tools. The NeuroMod lies before me, its inner workings exposed, vulnerable. Just like me.

I glance at the clock on the wall, its soft blue glow a reminder of the passing hours. It’s late, but sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. My thoughts drift to Myall again, wondering if he’s lying awake too, grappling with the same restless energy that courses through me.

Perhaps he’s out exploring hidden parts of the city.

I imagine his face, those deep green eyes that seem to see through the mask I wear. Pacing the small confines of my unit, my mind whirls with possibilities.

The old industrial sector or even the old recycling plant. Maybe there’s a blind spot in the surveillance there?

My fingers itch to grab my datapad, to send Myall a coded message right now. But I resist. Caution has kept me alive this long and I can’t abandon it now, no matter how much I want to.

With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly cease my pacing and head towards my bedroom. As much as I hate to admit it, I need some rest if I’m going to be able to continue my research tomorrow.

Stepping into the shower, the hot water washes away the fatigue that clings to me. After toweling off, I slip into my cozy pajamas—made of a soft gray material that’s like a hug against my skin. The warmth seeps through me, comforting and calming after a long day.

I collapse onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling, my mind still racing with thoughts and ideas. But eventually, exhaustion takes over and I drift off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The shrill sound of my alarm slices through the haze of sleep, dragging me awake.

“Citizen 26304, it is time to begin your day,” the unit’s AI assistant drones from the ceiling speaker.

I groan, wishing for just a few more minutes of sleep.

But then I remember the important task at hand— sharing my discovery with Myall.

Dressing in haste, I head to work, eager to see Myall and discuss a safe meeting spot. But as soon as I step inside, I can tell something is wrong.

The usually quiet corridors are bustling. People are rushing around with purposeful expressions on their faces, their voices hushed in urgent conversations. And there’s an uneasiness in the air that makes me feel like something is about to go terribly wrong.

Fuck, what if someone has reported me?

Myall is already at his workstation, but he looks tense and preoccupied. As soon as he sees me, he rushes over.

“Ziva, we need to talk,” he says urgently, gesturing for us to move away from prying ears and I quickly follow him down the corridor to the nearest supply closet.

He makes a motion with his hand, signaling for me to enter.

Shit, it must be bad if he wants to talk in here.

I don’t waste any time and step inside, with Myall following close behind. He shuts the door behind us, trapping us in the room. Each second stretches, the silence amplifying the sound of our quickened breaths as we huddle close.

A sour taste rises in my throat, thick and bitter. “What’s going on Myall?”

Myall takes a deep breath before speaking again. “There’s been a breach in our security system.”

A breach?

The enormity of the threat sends chills down my spine. I can almost hear the ticking clock of our impending doom, the weight of the knowledge pressing heavily on my chest, constricting my breath.

“Do they know what was accessed?” I ask quietly, already dreading the answer but needing confirmation.

The air in the closet feels thick, suffocating. I hear Myall’s breath, quick and shallow, matching my own. Every second feels like it could unravel everything. My heart pounds louder than my thoughts as I wait for him to speak again. We can’t afford to be discovered here.

Myall nods grimly. “Yeah. Someone stole all the schematics for the NeuroMod and Sentinel systems.”

Standing so close to Myall, I’m sure he can hear my heart pounding loudly. Panic starts to bubble inside me as we both realize the severity of the situation.

Someone else is looking to dismantle the NeuroMod system besides us.

Someone else is planning a rebellion. My heart races, torn between the intoxicating thrill of fighting back and the heavy weight of the risks involved.

I want to stand by Myall, to fight for freedom, but what if it costs me everything—including him?

“Do they know who did it?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

Myall shakes his head. “Not yet. But they have reason to believe that it was an inside job.”

My heart sinks when I come to the realization that I won’t be able to work on my NeuroMod plans while at work any longer. Not with so many watching eyes and security likely tightening. “What are they going to do?”

“They’re conducting an investigation to determine who did it, but in the meantime, security has been tightened even more,” Myall explains and confirms my suspicions. “They’re also warning everyone to be on high alert and report any suspicious behavior.”

I glance at Myall, his face taut with the weight of what we’ve just learned.

He looks at me, eyes wide, as if searching for answers.

But there’s nothing more to say. Not here, not now.

We both know the risks of staying too long.

Without another word, we step back into the corridor, the harsh buzz of the lights almost mocking the stillness that followed our conversation.

The sound of hurried footsteps, the murmur of voices, all the usual noise feels louder now. I’m acutely aware of the space around me, of the eyes that might be watching. My skin prickles, as if the walls themselves are listening. I force myself to breathe, to appear normal.

I walk towards my work station, mentally bracing myself for another monotonous day of recalibrating and continuing the cycle of emotional abuse.