Page 20

Myall

The NeuroMod on my wrist seems to grow heavier with every hour. I swear it pulses in time with my heartbeat.

The memory of almost kissing Ziva in my grandmother’s house still haunts me.

Her fingers brushing mine, the way we always seem to gravitate toward each other—it’s like we’re magnets, helpless to resist. The ghost of her touch lingers, stirring something dangerous within me, something my NeuroMod is having difficulty suppressing.

Something the Harmonization Authority would deem a malfunction.

“Another day of keeping the masses in line?” Marcus asks, his tone dry as he approaches my workstation.

I nod, slipping into the role of the dutiful Compliance Monitor. “Just doing my part for societal harmony.”

The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth. How can there be true harmony when we’re all smothering the very essence of our humanity?

Marcus’s gaze lingers on me for a moment before he shakes his head and moves across the row to Ziva’s workstation. I can tell he senses something is off with me today, but he doesn’t press any further.

Turning back to today’s NeuroMod logs, the glow of the screen illuminates my face as I input data from the citizens’ mandatory emotional checks—each line a reminder of the laughter they bury and the joy they suppress.

It’s a monotonous task, but it needs to be done in order to identify any outliers who may pose a threat to the system.

Or, to identify any individuals who might be easily swayed to our cause.

As I input the data, my mind wanders to the faces of those I monitor—what dreams do they bury? What laughter do they silence? My heart aches at the thought of being complicit in their suffering.

The shift bell rings, and a familiar anticipation stirs in my chest. Soon, I’ll be back in the lab, watching Ziva’s brow furrow as she works her magic on the NeuroMods. Her focus is magnetic, and I can’t help but look forward to those moments with her more than I want to admit.

“Ready for another late night?” Ziva asks, her voice tinged with fatigue. Shadows begin to pool under her eyes—proof of our long hours in the lab this week. It’s clear the toll is starting to show.

“Always,” I reply, perhaps too eagerly. Marcus raises an eyebrow as he stands beside her but says nothing.

We agreed to put any personal feelings aside, to focus on the rebellion. But every glance she gives me pulls me closer to the edge of wanting something more.

Making our way through the corridors of the Compliance Monitoring Division, our footsteps echo in the eerie silence, the sterile air carrying a faint metallic tang. Once outside, cool fresh air hits my face along with the soft sent of something that is undeniably—Ziva.

We stroll through the streets, keeping our mouths shut out of caution as we know we’re violating rules being seen in a group of more than two. The noise from the city around us only amplifies our silent commute.

Once inside the lab, Ziva wastes no time , “I think I’m close to replicating the glitch,” she announces, her eyes alight with excitement. “Myall, I’ll need to use your NeuroMod to test it.”

My heart races as I move towards her makeshift workstation and angle my wrist with the NeuroMod for her to access it’s circuitry. This is it—the moment we’ve been working towards all week. If Ziva can replicate the malfunction, we might have a real chance at dismantling the entire system.

And I might have a real chance at knowing if what I’m beginning to feel for Ziva is real.

“Are you sure we’re ready to test it?” Marcus asks, his usual caution evident in his tone as he huddles beside Ziva.

Ziva’s response is firm. “We have to try. It’s the only way to give people back their right to feel. We need to test it on ourselves first to ensure I can replicate it properly.”

Maneuvering my wrist into position, Ziva’s touch lingers a moment too long on my wrist, sending a shiver down my spine as her warmth seeps into my skin.

This time, I don’t try to suppress the jolt of electricity that courses through me, making my stomach tighten.

I meet Ziva’s gaze, and for a moment, I swear I see a flicker of the same intensity reflected back at me.

“Let’s do this,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel.

When Ziva’s shoulder brushes mine, her breath quickens, and I feel the warmth radiating from her. Every fleeting glance between us speaks volumes.

Her fingers move deftly over the NeuroMods, her lips pursed in concentration. I can’t tear my eyes away as she connects wires and fine-tunes settings. The hum of the room is heavy, mirroring the tight knot of anticipation building in my chest.

“Almost there,” Ziva mutters, her eyes fixed on the devices. “Just need to… ah!”

A sudden spark leaps between the NeuroMods, making us all jump. My heart pounds as I watch a thin arc of blue electricity connect the two devices for a split second. Then, with a soft whine, both devices flicker and go dark.

“Did it work?” I ask, my voice hoarse with anticipation.

Before Ziva can answer, a surge crashes over me, a chaotic whirlpool that overwhelms my senses and steals my breath. My mind floods with feelings I’ve never known—joy, fear, anger, love—all crashing together in a dizzying tide.

Colors explode around me, vibrant and overwhelming. Laughter that vibrates in my chest, yet it mingles with a sobering sorrow.

Gasping, I stagger back against the wall, my heart rate spiking. “I… I can feel everything,” I choke out, my eyes wide as a wave of nausea washes through me. The intensity of it all is almost painful, yet exhilarating at the same time.

Ziva rushes to my side, her face a mix of concern and excitement. “Myall? Are you okay?”

Meeting her gaze, it’s as if I’m seeing her for the first time. The depth of my feelings crashes over me, leaving me breathless.

“I’ve never been better,” I whisper, a smile spreading across my face despite the maelstrom of emotions inside me.

My hands shake as I try to steady myself against the cold metal workbench. The lab is suddenly too small, too confining. I need air. I need space to process this flood of sensations.

“I need… I need to step outside for a minute,” I manage to say, my voice trembling with the effort of maintaining composure in front of the others.

Ziva nods, understanding in her eyes. “Of course. Take your time.”

Stumbling out of the lab into the dim corridor, I gasp for breath, every sound amplified in the sudden silence.

“How could they do this to us?” I mutter, my voice thick with disbelief. “How could they take everything we’ve fought for?”

The weight of years of muted emotions crashes down on me. Anger bubbles up, hot and fierce as it surges its way out of me. “It’s not right,” I growl, slamming my fist against the wall. The pain is sharp, real, and I welcome it.

But beneath the anger, something else stirs—a warmth, a tenderness when I think of Ziva. It’s always been there, but now it’s magnified. Leaning against the cool wall, I close my eyes.

Is this what it means to truly be human? To feel so much that it hurts?

The sound of footsteps approaching makes me open my eyes. Ziva steps cautiously, likes she’s approaching a wild animal, her face a mixture of concern and hope.

“Myall?” she says softly. “How are you feeling?”

My pulse quickens as I look at her. “Like I’m finally awake,” I reply, my voice thick. “Ziva, we have to stop them. We can’t let them keep doing this.”

She nods, determination glinting in her eyes. “I know,” she says. “We will.”

A deep breath steadies me as Ziva moves to stand beside me, leaning against the wall, our shoulders brushing. Her presence surrounds me, a heady mix of comfort and longing that tightens my chest. I’ve never felt so bare, so vulnerable.

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” Ziva says, inching closer, and I can see the vulnerability in her eyes as she meets my gaze. “I remember when it first happened to me. It was like… like being born again.”

I nod, struggling to find the right words to convey what I’m feeling. “It’s like I’m seeing everything for the first time. Colors are brighter, sounds are sharper. And you—” I trail off, my heart pounding.

You are so beautiful.

Ziva’s lips curl into a small smile. “I know,” she says softly. “I feel it too.”

We stand there for a moment, and I resist the urge to touch her, afraid of the intensity it might stir.

“How do you handle it every day?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. “All these feelings?”

Ziva takes a deep breath. “It’s not easy,” she admits. “But it’s worth it. This is what makes us human, Myall. This is what they’ve been taking away from us.”

Clenching my fists at my side, I feel a surge of determination along with the burning ache of my sore palm. “We can’t let them do this anymore,” I say firmly. “We have to fight back.”

Ziva’s eyes light up with fierce resolve, but there’s also a flicker of fear—a fear of the consequences of our rebellion, of losing the fleeting moments we share.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” she says. “Now that you’ve experienced it yourself, you understand what’s at stake.”

I nod, the connection with Ziva beyond words. We’re in this together now, now more than ever.

“So,” I say, a hint of a smile playing on my lips, “what’s our next move?”

Ziva guides me back inside the lab and together, the three of us start making plans.

Marcus verifies that my emotions, as detected by the Sentinel system, indicate that my NeuroMod is working correctly. This means that even though my device is currently offline, only the three of us will be aware of it.

We need to be careful and strategic, but also bold enough to take on such a powerful corporation.

Our top priority is figuring out how to safely replicate the glitch on a larger scale.

Ziva believes she can recreate it for each person, but Marcus seems wary of having his own NeuroMod deactivated.

Surprisingly, Ziva doesn’t push the matter further.

After another hour of debating the next steps for our growing rebellion, Marcus stretches, his joints popping as he rises from his chair. “I think that’s enough for tonight,” he says, his eyes darting between Ziva and me. “You two seem to have things under control here.”

A glint in Marcus’s eyes makes my cheeks flush, and I quickly look away, hoping he doesn’t see.

“Yeah, we’ll wrap up soon,” Ziva says, her fingers absently fiddling with a NeuroMod. Her voice is steady, but I catch the slight tremor in her hand.

Marcus nods, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t stay up too late, kids,” he says, heading for the door. “And remember, discretion is key.”

Marcus is usually the last of us to leave, but I guess he wanted to give us a moment alone together. I silently thank him for it.

As the door clicks shut behind him, the air in the lab seems to thicken. Ziva and I are alone, truly alone, for the first time since the glitch. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat a thunderous reminder of my newfound emotional freedom.

“So,” I begin, my voice hoarse. “What now?”

Ziva turns to me, her hazel eyes pools of vulnerability and strength. “Now we start finding others to bring into our cause,” she says. “No more hiding.”

I take a tentative step towards her. “I’m scared, Ziva,” I admit. “These feelings… they’re overwhelming. More overwhelming than I expected.”

Her hand gently moves towards me, her fingers delicately push my hair away from my face before she lets her hand drop. “I know,” she whispers. “But like you said…we’re in this together.”

I intertwine my fingers with hers, marveling at the softness of her skin. “How do you do it?” I ask. “How do you stay so strong all the time?”

Ziva’s laugh is tinged with sadness. “I’m not strong, Myall. I’m terrified. But the alternative—going back to that numb existence—it’s unthinkable now.”

Pulling her closer, I feel the warmth of her body against mine as we stand inches apart, our breaths twining together. “We’ll figure this out,” I say, surprised by the conviction in my voice.

I breathe in deeply, savoring the scent of Ziva—a mix of burnt circuitry and something floral—something uniquely her. Every beat of my heart is a testament to the chaos inside me.

“Ziva,” I say, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “What we’re doing… it’s going to be dangerous. The Harmonization Authority—”

She cuts me off, her voice fierce. “Is wrong. They’re robbing us of our humanity, Myall.”

I nod, feeling the slight shift in my mood. “I know. But how do we fight them? How do we stop them?”

Ziva’s eyes gleam as she says, “We start small. We replicate the glitch, spread it. Give people a taste of what they’re missing.”

I stop to consider the possibilities of what she’s suggesting. “You want to spark a revolution.”

“Exactly,” she grins, and my breath catches at the sight.

Her smile is radiant, full of hope, and something about it catches in my throat. I run a hand through my hair, conflicting emotions warring within me. Doubt gnaws at me, a persistent whisper that echoes in my mind.

What if our rebellion fails?

The thought claws at my insides, twisting my stomach into knots. “That’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once,” I admit.

Ziva leans in, her forehead resting against mine, our breaths intermingling. “That’s what living feels like, Myall.”

“Whatever comes next,” I whisper, leaning in closer, “I’m with you.”

Our faces hover inches apart, the silence between us filled with the weight of everything we’ve been through. Her breath is soft against my skin, but it feels like the room is vibrating with the tension.

Every part of me wants to close the gap. To finally let go of all the emotions I’ve been holding back. But something stops me. I’m not sure what it is—fear, uncertainty, the overwhelming rush of emotions I still don’t fully understand.

I move slightly, pulling in a sharp breath.

The space between us feels like an insurmountable distance now, and the pull to close it is almost unbearable.

But I can’t. Not yet. Not like this. There’s too much riding on what happens next.

The rebellion. The people who need us. The world we’re trying to change.

Taking a half step back, my heart protests at the distance.

My hand trembles at my side, wanting to reach out, wanting to pull her close, but I force myself to keep it still.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t push. She’s waiting, watching, and I can feel the patience in her eyes.

It’s like she knows I’m struggling with something bigger than just this moment.

We stand there, just close enough to feel the other’s presence, but not enough to act on it. The tension isn’t gone. It’s still there, thick in the air, but I’m not ready to cross that line—not yet.

“We’ll figure this out,” I repeat, almost to myself.