The dim light from the digital field projected on the wall screen softly illuminated part of the home. Aryah was sitting on the modular sofa, with her legs drawn up and her arms around her knees. Her head was reclined against the back of the sofa as she watched the illusion of the open field, the green hills, and the starry night that she so longed to see in reality.

Concern was reflected on her face. Her mother, Nynah Velsen, had been hospitalized in the Nursing and Care Section for weeks after contracting a strange illness. Doctors had not yet been able to identify the cause or find an effective treatment. The house had felt empty since then, she couldn't even concentrate on her own thoughts, she only had questions about the council.

Nake was on duty as a hallway monitor on level 2. In Bunker BP-25, there was no traditional labor system or real economy; instead, tasks and schedules were assigned to residents to promote their mental health and well-being. After fulfilling their responsibilities, residents had free time for recreational and personal activities. As a reward for their efforts, each resident received credits stored on a personal USB memory, a kind of virtual currency that they could use to purchase items and services within the bunker. Although initially conceived as a simple incentive and a way to preserve the customs of the old world, over time, this system had led to the emergence of economic effects in underground society. In fact, economics classes were already being taught in schools to prepare the new generations for this effect.

Submerged in her thoughts, Aryah barely perceived the sound of the sliding door opening. The light from the central hallway suddenly flooded the room, momentarily blinding her. When her eyes adjusted, she managed to make out the figure of her father, Ekhrem Velsen, standing in the doorway.

Ekhrem was a middle-aged man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a thick beard, his gaze tired but kind. He wore a dark gray jumpsuit with black panels on the shoulders and knees and a distinctive golden badge on his chest, characteristic of the Council Advisors, who provided advice and support to the ten Councilors governing Bunker BP-25 alongside the President.

Aryah smiled at him, and Ekhrem returned the smile as he headed to the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. From the top shelf, he took a can of pineapple soda from the Poladoid brand, the same company that in the past had built the bunkers across the country. With practiced ease, he pressed the tab and opened the can, releasing a soft hiss. Then, he walked over to the sofa and sat down slowly on the cushions. Aryah didn't hesitate and rested her head on her father's shoulder. Ekhrem wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders.

—Everything will be fine, sweetheart,— he murmured in a hoarse voice as he took a sip of his soda. —The doctors are doing everything they can.—

Aryah nodded silently, allowing herself to be enveloped by her father's warmth. In that moment, she didn't need more words, just the comfort of his presence and the hope that things would get better.

She glanced at the fake moon and stars. —Nake told me something about the council.—

—What? What are you talking about, Ary? — her father asked, confused.

—He shouldn't have said anything —

—What thing, sweet…?—

Aryah turned to her father. —He overheard you and Mafius talking about the council looking for a replacement on the council.—

Ekhrem suspected what all this was about; he simply sighed in frustration.

—What did you hear?— he asked, somewhat annoyed.

—That they were considering me as a potential option— Aryah replied, turning back to the digital window. —I don't want anything to do with politics— 

Ekhrem sighed and turned to his daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder. —It's not something I have control over. I simply advise the council, like many others. Alsadh's death due to the illness has prompted the Council to explore viable options—

— I can't help but think that Mom has the same illness— she said, disheartened, her tone filled with concern.

—But honey, the doctors are doing everything they can—

—Yes, just like that Alsadh— she responded angrily, looking out the fake window. —I don't understand why me, I'm young, I know nothing, there are people more interested in that, like Nake!— Aryah continued, agitated.

—Daughter, you have years of experience working in the water purification plant. The council needs capable people, you would be a good voice representing the maintenance sectors—

—They only took an interest in me because you surely talked to them about me, it's your dream, you want to be a Councilor, and you see me becoming one as an opportunity, I don't want it—

—I can't do anything, daughter. I already advised Mafius, and he decided that, he chose you. Tomorrow there will be a session for an internal vote among different candidates, you must attend no matter what—

—And when were you going to tell me?—

—You brought up the topic first, daughter—

—I need to sleep, dad— Aryah said softly before getting up, kissing him on the forehead, and heading to her room.

—Love you— Ekhrem stammered as he watched her leave. He sighed and turned on the television connected to the bunker's central memory with terabytes of stored movies and series from the past. He put on his favorite show to fall asleep, Datawire hosted by Rylan Echo. A show from the old internet of 2115.

 2024 © LJ Kauffmann