Page 55

Ziva

The sun dips lower, the faint click of the blinds opening nearly drowned out by the hum of the building’s ventilation. The air is thick and warm, heavy as though a storm is just waiting to break. Time seems suspended, the fading sunlight stretching the silence in the room.

Time to go.

My heart sinks as we rise from the bed and gather our plans, carefully folding the maps and blueprints to take with us. Myall stands by the door, shoulders taut, waiting for me. As I approach, he turns to me, his gaze lingering on my face.

“Ziva,” he says, his throat bobbing. “Before we go…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he pulls me close, one hand cupping my face. I feel the warmth of his palm rough against my cheek, his calloused thumb tracing my cheekbone in slow, gentle movements. Breath catching, I gaze up at him.

“Myall, I—”

His lips press gently against mine, and I inhale sharply, tasting the faint tang of salt on his skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine.

His body presses against mine, as though he could absorb every fragment of my fear and hope.

His hands slide into my hair, tugging me closer, and I feel the tension of his muscles, the heat of his skin seeping into mine.

The kiss deepens, urgent now, his tongue brushing against mine, seeking the same desperate release I feel.

I lose myself in it—the softness of him, the storm swirling inside of me.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless and my heart is thumping in my chest.

Myall presses his forehead to mine. “Whatever happens,” he whispers, “I love you. I will always love you.”

I nod, unable to speak past the lump forming in my throat. With a deep breath, I step back and open the door, it glides open with a soft hiss. It’s time to face our fate.

The city greets us with an unsettling quiet, its usual rush of evening commuters replaced by an unnatural stillness. The hum of propaganda screens echoes off the empty streets, but it feels like a whisper in a void. The air is thick, too thick, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something.

A single bird flutters past, a fleeting reminder of life, but otherwise, the city feels hollow, its heartbeat silenced. The propaganda screens, once promoting emotional stability and harmony, now display warnings about the invasive NeuroMods.

Beneath the harsh glow of a screen, someone has scrawled the words ‘Emotions are what make us human.’ The paint is fresh, the brushstrokes wild and bold against the drab gray of the building. The same phrase is displayed on the screen above.

The Maglev train glides by, nearly empty. A few people hurry along the sidewalks, their eyes darting nervously.

“It’s working,” Myall murmurs as we walk. “They’re questioning the system and The Authority, just like we hoped.”

Nodding, a mix of excitement and fear courses through me as I see two people stopped on the sidewalk, whispering. They immediately stop their whispering as we approach, only resuming once we’ve passed them.

“Let’s hope it’s enough,” I mutter.

The walk to the factory is quiet, our minds preoccupied with what we’re about to do.

We take a circuitous route, avoiding the main thoroughfares.

As we pass through a residential area, I spot a small group of people huddled together, speaking in hushed tones.

They fall silent as we approach, watching us warily, the same way the couple we passed before did.

“They’re afraid,” I whisper to Myall once we’re out of earshot.

He squeezes my hand in response. “Fear can be the first step towards change.”

As twilight deepens, the city’s unease seems to grow. I’ve never seen the streets this quiet, especially after shifts end. We’re almost at the factory now. I can see its hulking silhouette against the darkening sky. My steps falter for a moment as the enormity of what we’re about to do hits me.

Myall stops, turning to face me. “You okay?” he asks softly.

I think of all we’ve risked, all we stand to lose—and all we might gain.

“I guess I don’t really have a choice but to be okay,” I reply, squaring my shoulders, trying to appear more confident than I feel.

The heavy metal door creaks shut behind us, the sound too loud in the silence of the factory.

We move quickly, slipping between the machines and empty conveyor belts that line the walls.

My footsteps are muffled by the thick dust on the floor, but my heart pounds loudly in my chest, matching the rhythm of the hum that surrounds us.

As we walk into the storage room, the dim light reveals familiar faces gathered in a loose circle—Arden’s usual smirk as she leans against a pile of discarded wooden crates, Marcus’s intense gaze as he looks up from the workbench, Dr. Vance’s sharp eyes behind her glasses as she clutches a dataport.

My heart swells at the sight of our little rebellion.

“About time,” Arden quips as she pushes off from the crates she was leaning against, a smirk playing on her lips. “We were starting to think Colvin nabbed you.”

Forcing a chuckle, I try to shake off the tension and ignore the way her joke makes my stomach churn. “Not yet. It’s pretty quiet out there.”

Marcus steps forward, still dressed in his work uniform, his expression grave. “It’s exactly as we hoped. People are whispering in the streets and at work, questioning. I saw a group refuse to board the Maglev this morning.”

“Good,” Myall nods. “That’s exactly what we need—doubt.”

Liora chimes in, her arms crossed. “The Authority is likely scrambling. They’re trying to maintain control, but cracks will be forming. We won’t have much longer before their reinforcements arrive.”

As the others share their observations, I’m lost in thought.

The Authority is planning to send more personnel into the city in the next few days.

We have a limited window of time to act before that happens.

Thankfully, Marcus was able to retrieve the necessary supplies today so I can complete the last steps on the disruption device.

Myall’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Ziva,” he says softly, “should we share our plan?”

I nod, clearing my throat. “Right. We think we’ve figured out the best way into the Compliance Monitoring Division without needing to pass through the security checkpoints at the front doors.”

As Myall and I take turns explaining our strategy—the weak points we’ve identified, the potential allies within—I watch the faces of our friends.

I see determination in Arden’s eyes, careful consideration in Marcus’s furrowed brow, and a flicker of something I can’t quite name in Tariq’s expression.

“It’s a gamble,” I conclude, “but it’s our best shot at getting into the building undetected and getting the device activated.”

A moment of heavy silence follows. Then Arden speaks up, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “We’re with you. All the way.”

The others nod in agreement, and I feel a surge of gratitude. Some of these people I’ve only known for a few weeks, and yet they are ready to put their lives on the line for a plan we hastily created this morning while sitting around my kitchen table.

As we hash out the finer details of the plan, Dr. Vance clears her throat, her piercing blue eyes sweeping across the room. She holds us in her gaze, making sure we’re all focused on her.

“I feel compelled to point out a critical factor in the plan,” she says, her voice carrying easily across the room. “The strategy we’re discussing will only disable the NeuroMod system within this city’s jurisdiction.”

My heart sinks, a heavy knot tightening in my chest. I swallow, my throat thick with tension. The plan we’ve built—our hope—feels suddenly fragile.

I steady my voice, but it betrays me, cracking on the last word. “What do you mean, Elena?”

She adjusts her glasses, a habit I’ve noticed when she’s about to deliver complex information. “The NeuroMod network is decentralized. It was a contingency plan The Authority came up with years ago. Each city operates on its own sub-system. Disabling yours won’t affect the global structure.”

Myall stiffens beside me. “So, all of this… and it only matters for one city?” he asks, frustration evident in his tone.

Dr. Vance’s expression softens slightly as she turns to face him directly. “Not ‘just,’ Myall. It’s a crucial first step. But yes, dismantling the entire system globally will require significantly more time and resources.”

The room falls silent as we process this information.

Even if we managed to dismantle the systems in our city, what’s to stop The Authority from regaining control?

I close my eyes, trying to quell the wave of disappointment threatening to overwhelm me.

When I open them, I’m surprised to see a glimmer of excitement in Arden’s eyes.

“Guys don’t you see?” she says, leaning forward on the balls of her toes. “This is how we start a domino effect. We free our city, we grow our numbers, and then we take on the next city, and the next.”

“How do we make sure The Authority doesn’t just take it all back?” Tariq asks, voicing the question I know is on everyone’s mind.

Arden scoffs. “You really think once people are free, they’ll just let The Authority take control again?” She says it with a challenging tone, daring us to disagree.

A spark of hope flickers in my chest, unexpected and wild. “She’s right,” I say, my voice stronger now, meeting the eyes of the small, determined group around me. “If we can pull this off here, we prove it’s possible. We become a beacon of hope for other cities, other rebels.”

Myall squeezes my hand, his voice filled with renewed determination. “We could create a network of free cities, each one joining the fight to liberate the next.”

“We could even enlist some people from those weird hippie groups in the isolated communities. Get them to to join us in liberating the other cities.” Jarek suggests, his broad arms still crossed.

As murmurs of agreement fill the room, I realize we’re standing on the edge of something much bigger than I’d initially imagined. This isn’t just about our city anymore; it’s about igniting a global revolution.

Arden is right, once people are freed from their emotional prison, there’s no way they would let The Authority take it from them. More and more people will join our cause and eventually, with time, we can change the entire world.

Dr. Vance clears her throat, refocusing the room. “The people living in those ‘weird hippie’ communities, as you so eloquently put it, Jarek, may not be as easily swayed to join our cause.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, intrigued by the isolated communities that exist outside of The Authority’s control.

“Well,” she begins, “They have their own governing body and rules, but those rules are designed to keep their citizens compliant. I believe they have a similar version of our NeuroMods. The two elements combined form some pretty nasty emotional manipulation.”

I always believed that those living under The Sanctum’s governance were truly free, but according to Dr. Vance’s explanation, they are just as trapped by their emotions as we are.

“So we need to find a way to liberate those cities as well,” take down The Authority and The Sanctum.” Arden interjects, her tone cutting through the tension in the room.

Leave it to Arden to want to save everyone.

“Alright,” I say, feeling the adrenaline coursing through me. “Let’s get back on track. We have a city to free, and after that… a world to change.”

We huddle closer, pouring over maps and timelines. I can feel the energy in the room shift. The air is charged with a potent mix of anticipation, fear, and hope.

Tomorrow, we make our move. Tomorrow, we take the first step towards dismantling The Authority’s control.