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Myall

I can’t tear my eyes away from Arden’s face. Her eyes are wide, sparkling with an intensity I’ve never seen before. It’s like looking at a completely different person today.

“You were right. It was…overwhelming,” Arden says, her voice trembling slightly. “I felt everything all at once—joy, fear, anger, excitement. It was beautiful and terrifying.”

I feel myself smiling as I watch her speak.

Ziva nods eagerly. “I remember that feeling. It’s like waking up from a deep, endless sleep. It was so disorienting.”

“You seemed like you were handling it just fine,” Marcus says, his usual stoic expression softened with concern. “The sudden flood of emotions, I mean.”

Arden exhales sharply, her chest rising and falling as she forces herself to speak.

“Oh no,” she says, voice trembling. “When I got home, I cried. A lot. My body shook like I was finally waking from a deep sleep. Then I laughed—just because I could. And after that, anger. So much anger at everything The Authority has stolen from us. It was… a long night.” She looks away, her fists clenched at her sides as if trying to physically suppress the flood of emotion that threatens to overtake her again.

We sit in silence for a moment, each of us processing what we’ve just heard. The hum of the lab, the soft rhythm of our breathing—it’s almost peaceful, despite the chaos swirling in our minds. Then, slowly, the tension starts to dissipate—my voice cutting through the quiet.

“I felt that too,” I say, overwhelmed by the memory.

“When my device first shut down, I realized how much I’d been missing.

All the little moments of joy and connection I’d never fully experienced.

” My voice catches, the memory of those first days rushing back with the force of a tidal wave.

The raw, unfiltered sensations of feeling too much at once—the warmth of sunlight on my skin, the sharp bitterness of coffee, the overwhelming joy of laughter—are so vivid now, they almost hurt.

The weight of their gazes settles over me, a quiet understanding in their eyes.

For a moment, the space between us narrows, as if we’re all suspended in the same fragile thread of humanity, desperately trying to hold on.

“What about you, Marcus?” Ziva asks, turning to our most reserved member. “How did you handle the emotional overload? I don’t think we ever really checked in on you after.”

Marcus is quiet for a moment, his dark eyes distant. “It was… difficult,” he says finally. “I’ve spent years suppressing what happened when The Authority took over, learning to function without emotion. When it all came rushing back, I felt… exposed. Vulnerable.”

I nod, understanding exactly what he means.

The Authority has trained us all to view emotions as weakness, as something to be controlled and eliminated.

Learning to embrace them again is a constant struggle.

I understand why Marcus wanted to hurry back to his own home, to process his emotions in the privacy and comfort of familiar surroundings.

The weight of all that unprocessed feeling must be suffocating.

It makes me worry about the long term effect of emotional suppression.

“But it’s worth it, isn’t it?” Arden says fiercely. “To feel alive again, to be truly human?”

“Absolutely,” I agree, meeting her gaze.

The air feels thicker, more suffocating, as if the very walls are closing in on us. But the moment lingers, unspoken, before Arden lets out a small, nervous laugh. Ziva shifts in her seat, looking around at the others.

“Speaking of human,” Ziva says with a lightness that seems almost out of place , “ I’ve got some news that might help us keep our newfound freedom.”

We all turn to her, curiosity piqued. Ziva’s always been the most technically savvy among us, her quick mind constantly seeking ways to subvert the system.

“I’ve figured out how to make our NeuroMods look like they’re still functioning,” she announces, a hint of pride in her voice. “No more blank screens. Even if Regent Colvin drags one of us in for a ‘random’ check, we won’t get caught.”

“How?” I ask, leaning closer.

Ziva grins, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Remember those blueprints Arden stole? I’ve been studying them non-stop.

There’s a way to create a false feedback loop in the NeuroMods circuitry.

It’ll report normal emotional suppression, even when we’re feeling everything.

I can switch our devices back on and they’ll appear active, but they won’t have any effect on us. ”

Arden lets out a low whistle. “That’s brilliant, Ziva. You’re a genius.”

I watch as Ziva’s cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. It’s strange how captivating these small displays of emotion have become, now that we’re free to express them.

Marcus, ever the pragmatist, leans forward. “How soon can we implement this? And how risky is it?”

As Ziva launches into a detailed explanation, I find myself marveling at how quickly we’ve bonded. Just weeks ago, we were all strangers, trapped in the emotionless haze of Authority control. Now, we’re co-conspirators, friends even.

I catch Arden’s eye. She gives me a small, knowing smile, the corners of her lips curving up just slightly.

There’s something in her gaze—soft, yet intense—that settles in my chest, a warmth spreading from the pit of my stomach to my fingertips.

Is this what real connection, real friendship feels like?

“Earth to Myall,” Marcus says, nudging me. “You with us?”

I blink, realizing I’ve missed part of the conversation. “Sorry, just… processing everything.”

Ziva looks at me with understanding. “It’s a lot, isn’t it? Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Speaking of which,” Arden chimes in, “I think we need a name for our little rebel group. Something catchy.”

We spend the next half hour tossing around increasingly ridiculous suggestions, laughing more freely than I can ever remember.

Even Marcus cracks a smile, the hard lines of his face softening.

The corners of his mouth twitch, as though the act itself feels foreign—but freeing.

There’s a lightness in the room that wasn’t there before, a warmth that spreads slowly through the space.

“Alright, alright,” Marcus says, rolling his eyes, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth once more. “But let’s not forget why we’re here, people.”

Ziva grins. “Right, right. We’re not here for stand-up comedy, though I could keep going.”

“Please don’t,” Arden says, chuckling softly. “I’m still recovering from that last suggestion.”

As the night wears on, our conversation drifts from rebellion planning to more personal topics.

We share stories from our childhoods, stories about times where we each rebelled against the system.

Arden regales us with tales of her misspent youth, sneaking into restricted areas and causing mischief, even with her emotions dampened.

Her stories of sneaking through the city are almost unbelievable, given The Authority’s grip on everything.

I find myself opening up about my own past, sharing hopes and dreams I’d long forgotten.

The others listen with genuine interest, their faces open, unguarded.

For once, I don’t feel like a ghost, drifting through life unnoticed.

The small, almost imperceptible shift in the air when someone acknowledges you—so subtle, but so powerful—fills me with a warmth I’ve forgotten existed.

I don’t just feel seen— I feel heard, understood, like I finally matter.

I lean forward, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and fear. “So, what’s our next move? We’ve been avoiding the topic all night. Have we made a decision?”

Arden’s eyes light up with pure Arden energy. “I’ve been thinking more about that hack I mentioned yesterday. I know it’s a risk, but if we can pull it off, we could access The Authority’s entire network and hopefully bring their entire regime down.”

Marcus frowns, his brow furrowing. “That’s a big ‘if,’ Arden. The consequences if we’re caught…”

“Are no worse than if we do nothing,” Ziva interjects, her voice sharp. “We can’t keep playing it safe forever.”

Their eyes are heavy with expectation, silently asking for my opinion.

I try to calm my racing heart, but it’s hard to ignore the gnawing feeling in my stomach, like a hundred small doubts clawing at me from the inside.

What are we really doing? Are we ready for the consequences?

I’ve never been more certain about something in my life—and yet, uncertainty weighs heavy in my chest. The line between passive resistance and full-blown rebellion is razor-thin.

Once we cross it, there’s no going back.

“Arden,” I say slowly, “walk us through this hack. What exactly would it involve?”

As Arden outlines her plan, I watch the others’ reactions. Marcus listens intently, his analytical mind no doubt cataloging every potential flaw. Ziva’s eyes shine with determination, while I struggle to keep my own emotions in check.

“It’s not without risks,” Arden concludes, “but think of what we could uncover. The truth about the NeuroMods and why we ‘need’ them, the extent of The Authority’s control—it could change everything.”

A tense silence falls over the room. I break it, voicing the thought we’re all having.

“If we do this, we can’t come back here afterward,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. The thought of leaving this refuge sinks into me like a stone, my chest tightening. “This lab will be compromised.”

Ziva nods grimly. “We’ll need a fallback location. Somewhere they won’t think to look.”

“I might have an idea,” Marcus says, surprising us all. “There’s an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district. It’s been empty for years, forgotten by everyone.”

As we hash out the details, a strange mix of dread and hope churns inside me. We’re crossing a line here, moving from passive resistance to active rebellion. There’s no going back after this.

I inhale sharply, pushing down the fear threatening to rise in my throat. This is it. The decision has been made, but something in me—something deep in my gut—claws at me, begging for one last moment of hesitation.

Their gazes settle on me, all of them waiting. The thought of failure churns in my stomach, but something else rises to meet it.

Hope.

I meet each of their eyes—Ziva’s fierce determination, Arden’s barely-contained excitement, Marcus’s quiet resolve. They’re ready. But am I? For a moment, the world feels impossibly still. The decision should be simple, but it’s not.

When I finally speak, my voice is steadier than I feel. “Alright. Let’s do this. Let’s hack The Authority.”