Page 16

Ziva

The warm morning light filters through my small bedroom window, casting a soft glow on the NeuroMod lying dormant on my bedside table. I stare at it, my heart mingling with a mixture of excitement and fear. It’s been a week since it malfunctioned, a week since I’ve truly felt everything.

Running my fingers through my long, thin hair, I detangle the knots as I try to calm the storm of emotions inside me.

The intensity remains overwhelming. I clutch at the edge of my bed, willing the sensation to lessen, yet part of me craves the chaos.

Myall flashes in my mind—his deep green eyes, his strong jawline.

Stop thinking about him, Ziva.

Dressing in long dark pants and a soft cashmere sweater, the anticipation builds within me. Today’s our first planned visit to Grandma Elara’s, and the thought of spending more time with Myall and his grandmother sends a warm flutter through me.

I pause, catching my reflection in the mirror. My eyes seem brighter, more alive.

Is this what it means to truly feel?

Every second walking to the maglev station in my sector feels like an eternity. All week I’ve been counting down the days until our next trip to Grandma Elara’s, where we can finally talk openly without fear of being overheard.

Growing up in an orphanage meant I had no family members who could recall a time before The Harmonization Authority took control. And I’ve always been too afraid to befriend my classmates or coworkers for fear of them discovering my true thoughts about The Authority.

I understand Myall’s reasoning for choosing his grandmother’s house as our meeting place.

It’s the perfect cover. Meeting at either of our own apartments will surely raise suspicions among our neighbors, who are not used to seeing unmarried couples spending so much alone time together.

Since all our emotions are regulated by the NeuroMod system, true relationships are a rare occurrence.

Love, lust, and desire are all muted, leaving only biological instincts and societal expectations driving most intimate connections.

Most teenagers are allowed some leeway to experiment, a nod to the reality that young people will seek out intimacy regardless of The Authority’s regulations.

But I never did. I couldn’t stomach the thought of being physically close to someone without fully experiencing what those feelings truly felt like.

It’s like trying to read a book with the pages glued shut—no matter how much you want to read, you can’t access the story.

As I reach the towering maglev station, my eyes immediately land on Myall’s figure, a silhouette against the sterile, white walls that seem to absorb all warmth.

It’s strange seeing him out of his uniform, dressed in dark pants and a matching tunic.

His posture is casual but alert, as though he’s constantly surveying his surroundings.

We meet at the entrance of the station, its doors looming above us like a monolithic gate that leads to another world.

He gives me a subtle nod, his dark, unruly hair falling into his eyes like always.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and measured.

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. “Can’t wait to hear more of your grandmother’s stories.”

As we walk, I sneak glances at Myall.

Does he feel this too, or is his NeuroMod dampening the connection I’m starting to sense?

“You seem… different today,” Myall observes, his eyes studying me intently.

I tense, worried I’ve given my thoughts away. “Do I? Must be the anticipation of more illegal storytelling or the fact that you’re seeing me in my non work attire for the first time,” I quip, deflecting with humor. A quick scan of my surroundings confirms that no one caught my rebellious words.

Myall chuckles, the sound sending a warmth through me. “There’s something about Grandma’s stories that makes you forget about the world outside, isn’t there?”

Nodding, my voice softens. “It’s like stepping into another time. A time when people could just… feel.”

We fall into a comfortable silence as we walk, but my thoughts churn. I want to tell him about the overwhelming emotions I’ve been experiencing in his presence. The ones that send my stomach fluttering and a warmth to spread through my chest. But fear holds me back. What if he doesn’t understand?

As we approach Elara’s house, I inhale deeply, the rich scent of blooming jasmine wafting around me, mingling with the earthy aroma of the cottage.

I knock on Elara’s door, following the rhythm Myall showed me, my heart bursting with excitement.

Myall stands close, his presence comforting.

The door creaks open, revealing Elara’s warm, wrinkled face.

“My dears,” she says, her voice soft but filled with genuine warmth despite her dampened emotions. “Come in, come in.”

The moment we step into Elara’s cottage, I am enveloped by its warmth. The walls are lined with shelves of dusty books, each whispering stories of the past. The earthy scent of dried herbs wafts from the kitchen. Elara’s warm smile reaches her eyes, a softness that reminds me of long-forgotten joy.

“How are you feeling, Grandma?” Myall asks, his tone carefully neutral as he steps further into the house.

“Oh, just fine,” Elara responds, waving a hand dismissively as she bustles into the living room. “Now, sit down. I’ve been thinking about what stories to share today.”

Chuckling, we settle onto the sofa as Elara lowers herself into her favorite armchair, her eyes distant as if looking into the past.

“Today,” she begins, her voice taking on a dreamy quality, “I want to tell you about joy. Real, unbridled joy.”

Leaning forward, I hang on her every word. “What was it like?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.

Elara’s eyes sparkle. “Oh, my sweet girl. It was like sunlight bursting through your chest. Like every cell in your body was singing.” She pauses, lost in the memory.

“I remember the day my son—Myall’s father that is—was born.

The moment they placed him in my arms, it was as if the whole world disappeared and time stood still.

There was only him, that perfect little face. ”

Glancing at Myall, I wonder if he can even begin to imagine the depth of emotion his grandmother is describing. His face is impassive, but there’s a tension in his jaw that makes me wonder what’s going on beneath the surface.

Elara continues, her voice growing more animated. “And laughter! Oh, how we used to laugh. Not the polite muted chuckles you hear now, but deep, belly laughs that would leave you gasping for air. Your whole body would shake with it, tears streaming down your face.”

As she recounts the laughter of long-lost friends, I can almost hear the echoes of their joy ringing in the air, feel the sun-warmed grass beneath our feet, and see the vivid colors of a world bursting with life.

I try to imagine it—uninhibited joy. My laughter’s always been muted, controlled by both my NeuroMod and societal conditioning. But with my malfunctioning NeuroMod, I’ve glimpsed what Elara describes.

“What about love?” The question slips out before I can stop it. I feel Myall stiffen beside me.

Elara’s smile falters slightly, an unspoken memory reflected in her gaze. “Love was… everything and more. It could lift you to the highest heights and plunge you into the deepest despair. It was messy and complicated and absolutely beautiful.”

A surge of emotion nearly takes my breath away. Is this what I feel for Myall? This wild, uncontrollable force? My emotions have been dulled for so long, I don’t know how to correctly interpret them anymore.

A tumult of thoughts swirls in my mind. What if my feelings for Myall are just a fleeting rebellion against a lifetime of suppression? What if, in seeking freedom, I jeopardize the very connection I crave? The fear tightens like a vise around my chest.

I steal another glance at him, only to find him already looking at me. Our eyes lock, and I swear I see a flicker of something in his gaze—something that makes my heart race even faster.

I can’t take it anymore. The tension, the unspoken words, the weight of Elara’s memories—it all comes crashing down on me at once.

“How can they justify this?” I burst out, my voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Stripping away everything that makes us human, choking us with their sterile, lifeless policies?” My voice trembles and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

Myall’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Ziva,” he warns, glancing at Elara.

But I’m beyond caution now. “No, Myall. We need to talk about this. The Harmonization Authority claims they’re protecting us, but they’re just…

neutering us. Making us docile. Compliant.

They wrap around us like a suffocating blanket, promising safety while stripping away the very essence of what it means to be human. ”

Myall leans forward. His voice drops to a low murmur. “I understand. But we need to be careful. The consequences—”

“Consequences?” I scoff, feeling a rush of bitterness. “We’re already living the consequences. A world without joy, without passion, without—” I catch myself, almost saying ‘love.’ My eyes flick to Myall, and I see something flicker in his gaze.

“You know it’s not that simple,” he argues, running a hand through his messy hair. “The system keeps order, prevents conflict. You’ve heard the stories of what it was like before when the world was filled with so much violence and death. Wars caused by hatred and fear.”

I shake my head vehemently. “But at what cost? We’re not really living, Myall. We’re just… existing.”

His shoulders slump, and for a moment, I see the weight of his own doubts. “I know,” he whispers. “But what can we do? Two people against the entire Authority? They squashed the resistance, thousands of people, as if it were nothing more than an irritating fly.”