Page 7

Myall

The next morning, I arrive at the Compliance Monitoring Division, my heart racing beneath a carefully composed exterior. My NeuroMod vibrates in warning of the elevation in my mood, but I tune it out. The antiseptic smell of the place hits me as I pass through security, and I inwardly cringe.

Making my way to my workstation, I scan the room for any sign of unusual activity.

That’s when I spot her—Ziva Emerson, her long, light brown hair cascading down her back.

She leans over her workstation, and the light catches her hair, making it appear more golden than brown.

There’s an indescribable quality about her that I’m drawn to.

Maybe it’s the way she moves—confident, composed—even in this lifeless place.

A sudden beep from the communication system overhead grabs everyone’s attention.

Our supervisor’s voice cuts through the air, tense and urgent.

“Attention all personnel. We’ve received reports of a potential NeuroMod sabotage last night in one of the outer sectors.

Be on high alert for any irregularities.

All Compliance Monitors are to begin scanning for irregularities immediately. ”

My breath catches in my throat, a lump of dread forming as I digest the announcement.

The realization that they know about Arden sends a chill through me.

There’s a growing sense of dread as I struggle to maintain a mask of composure.

I can’t help risking a glance at Ziva from across the aisle. What I see makes my heart skip a beat.

Her hazel eyes widen, revealing a mixture of fear and something else—excitement? She quickly schools her features, but not before I catch a glimpse of something that mirrors my own inner turmoil.

Interesting.

“Emerson,” our supervisor barks through her desk comm. “I want you to run a full diagnostic on the affected sector.”

Ziva nods, her voice steady. “Right away, ma’am.”

Now’s my chance.

She turns to her screen, fingers flying over the dataport as I approach.

Leaning in, I keep my voice low. “Quite a stir this morning, huh?”

Ziva looks up, her eyes meeting mine before her usual mask of indifference slides back into place.

“Just another day in paradise,” she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm and her full lips pursing.

Leaning in, I pretend to examine her screen so that Lena at the workstation beside us thinks we are discussing compliance data. “Ever wonder what it would be like? To live without these things?” I gesture subtly to the NeuroMods on our wrists, holding my breath as I wait for her reaction.

Please let me be right about her.

Her fingers pause mid-keystroke. She looks at me, really looks at me, and I feel exposed under her piercing gaze.

“Those are dangerous thoughts, Hansen,” she murmurs, but there’s no reproach in her voice. Instead, I hear a note of curiosity.

Nodding, I return to my station, my mind lingering on Ziva’s reaction. Her words echo in my head, but it’s the look in her eyes—curiosity, maybe even hope—that lingers.

During the lunch hour, I find myself gravitating towards her in the cafeteria. My shoes squeak softly against the linoleum as I cross the room toward Ziva’s table.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, lunch tray in hand.

Ziva shrugs, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Free country, isn’t it?” The irony in her tone is unmistakable.

Sitting beside her, I lean in close. “About earlier…” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper so that none of our coworkers or the cameras on the walls can overhear. “I’ve been thinking. There has to be more to life than this, right?”

Ziva’s eyes dart around, checking for eavesdroppers. “Careful,” she warns, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement in her voice. “Walls have ears here.”

“I know,” I murmur, my heart racing. “But don’t you ever wonder about the resistance? About a world without NeuroMods?”

Her eyes narrow slightly, studying me. I can almost see the gears turning in her head, trying to decide if I’m a threat or something else entirely. She leans back, continuing to study me as the internal struggle plays out across her face.

Finally, she speaks, her voice low and measured. “Meet me after work. Northeast corner of Sector 7. We’ll talk then, not here.”

Nodding, I try to contain my excitement. This is it—the first real step toward rebellion. Would my parents be proud? Or would they be concerned that I’m following in their footsteps?

The rest of the day passes in a blur of anticipation and nerves. I find myself watching the clock, counting down the minutes until I can learn more about whether Ziva feels the same way about this world as I do.

I spend the remainder of my shift weighing my every word, the consequences of a single mistake heavy on my mind. But the chance for freedom, for real connection—it feels worth the gamble.

As our shift ends, I casually make my way to Sector 7 with an outwardly composed appearance.

But inside, my heart is beating rapidly.

The NeuroMod tracks my elevated heart rate—I’ll need to erase the data tomorrow.

I take a series of deep breaths in an attempt to steady myself before my NeuroMod takes over to dose me.

I spot Ziva leaning against a wall, one leg braced upon the wall and her eyes scanning the area with practiced nonchalance.

“Beautiful weather we’re having,” I say as I approach, using the coded phrase we’d agreed on earlier.

Ziva’s lips quirk. “Could use more sunshine,” she replies, completing the exchange.

She steps out from the wall and we fall into step together, walking as if we’re simply two coworkers heading home.

“I saw your face when they announced the NeuroMod sabotage this morning,” I murmur, keeping my voice low in case of any cameras or drones flying overhead. “You looked…hopeful.”

Ziva stiffens slightly, her pace faltering for just a moment. “And what if I did?” she challenges, her voice a mix of defiance and caution but I can see the color draining from her light brown skin.

I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what I’m about to confess. “Then I’d say you’re not alone. I’ve been questioning things for a while now. And after seeing what happened with Arden…”

Her head snaps toward me, “You actually know the person sabotaging their NeuroMod?”

I should not have said that.

I shake my head, “No, I have absolutely no idea who she is.”

Ziva’s sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve struck a chord. “Then…you saw it happen?” she whispers, piecing it together.

I realize then just how intelligent Ziva actually is. Nodding, my eyes meet hers. “It made me realize there are others out there who want change. Who believe we deserve more than this…existence.”

For a long moment, she’s silent as we walk. It’s like the gears are turning in her mind, weighing the risks against the potential of finding an ally versus the consequences of if we’re caught.

Finally, she speaks. “This is dangerous territory, Myall. You know that, right? Are you sure you want to go down this path?”

“I’ve never been more sure.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s the truth.

Ziva’s hazel eyes widen, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering across her face.

Her lips purse slightly, as if she’s weighing her words carefully, the tension in her posture mirroring the precarious balance of our conversation.

Her fingers wrap tightly around my arm, pulling me towards a dimly lit alcove.

As we enter the alleyway, I can feel her excitement radiating through her grip, but also a hint of caution as she leads us into the shadows.

“You’re serious about this?” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “You really want to challenge the system?”

I nod. The silence between us stretches, heavy with the gravity of what we’ve just said.

“I can’t keep living like this, Ziva. Pretending I don’t feel, that I don’t want more.

Can you?” Each word feels like a vow, a commitment to the unknown.

The NeuroMod on my wrist feels heavier now, reminding me of what we stand to lose, but also of what we might gain together.

She bites her lip, her face tense with conflict.

When she speaks, her voice is a whisper, each word laced with fear and resolve.

“I’ve been trying to modify my NeuroMod in secret for a while now,” she confesses, her eyes darting around looking as if the walls have ears.

“Trying to find a way to break their hold on us so that I can experience the full extent of my emotions.”

My breath catches as I realize the risk she took in confessing this. “That’s brilliant. And incredibly risky.”

“Says the man proposing rebellion,” she retorts, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

I can’t help but grin back. “Maybe we’re both a little crazy.”

“Maybe we’re the only ones who haven’t given up on feeling anything at all,” Ziva muses. She looks at me intently. “If we do this, there’s no going back. Are you prepared for that?”

I offer my hand. She takes it, and I feel the warmth of her skin against mine. “I am if you are. Together, we might actually have a chance.”

Ziva squeezes my hand, her eyes shining. “Alright, Hansen,” she says softly as she squeezes my hand once more, her grip warm and steady. “Let’s start a rebellion.”