The kayak began its descent.

–“The navigator shows the landing zone is twelve kilometers outside the city limits. We’ll have to cover it on foot.”

Maush let out a heavy sigh.

–“That’s far. At least from the west side?”

–“From the west.”

–“Good. My people are in the eastern quarter. I’ll try to reach them again.”

He pulled a tablet from the right armrest.

No one answered. Maush’s eyes brimmed, his breath caught. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.

The doors hadn’t even finished opening when the two men jumped out and pulled their backpacks from the cargo hold.

–“Now I really regret not being an athlete,” Maush said, strapping on his pack. “Because of me we’ll crawl along — and my head’s about to explode from not knowing what’s going on.”

The men set off. They walked fast — Maush had clearly underestimated himself. Though his breath still caught now and then from anxiety, it didn’t slow his pace.

Adman met them at the city perimeter. Even before they reached him, both men flipped open their journalist IDs on their wristbands.

–“Journalists again,” the man in rescue gear said wearily. “Saw your build and equipment — thought we were finally getting volunteers. We’re short on hands. This post is our only break.”

–“Then count us as volunteers,” they said in unison, without hesitation.

–“I just need to find my people first,” Maush added.

–“And I’ll be filming in parallel — I’ve got heli-cams that work autonomously,” said Auran.

–“Civilians aren’t allowed to film,” Aidman said. “Too many bodies — mangled, disfigured, sometimes pulled out naked from under rubble. Doesn’t matter if it’s heli-cams or anything else — no footage. Give me your bands. I’ll add access.”

He tapped his tablet to their wristbands.

––“And here are your markers,” he said, handing them two yellow-and-blue hexagons marked DV.

––“Oh — almost forgot, I’ve got the list of recovered. Give me names.”

––“The Giats — Nauna and Baina. Dayan Faust.”

––“All in the Sixth Hospital. Baina and Dayan are unconscious, but stable. Nauna’s physically unharmed, but under severe psychological stress. Sending you the directions now.”

––“Thank you,” Maush exhaled with relief. “Any transport available?”

––“Only skyboards.”

Maush looked at Auran in despair.

––“You’ve got this,” Auran encouraged him.

––“Over there,” said Aidman, gesturing toward a turquoise booth.

The two friends approached a stack of massive, oval-shaped gray slabs. When activated with their wristbands, the top two lit up along the edges with blue light and rose slightly off the ground. Maush and Auran stepped onto the skyboards - green-orange filaments of light spread out from beneath their feet across the surface.

hey flew over the city’s ruins, following a traced route laid out by emergency services. Regular paths were unsafe — or gone entirely — so strict corridors had been mapped, and the skyboards’ programming wouldn’t let them deviate.

Along the way, Maush received a call from his mother — she had regained consciousness and called him. He told her he was on his way and would be there soon. A bit more of the tension let go, and he was finally able to take in the city and how the rescue effort was unfolding.

They stopped and dismounted near a cylindrical building with hexagonal windows, then made their way into the reception area. The place was overcrowded — they had to squeeze through the crush of people.

––“I’ll wait outside — no need to add to the crowd,” Auran said.

He stepped outside and moved aside, careful not to block the flow of stretchers and rescue workers. Dusk was falling. The hospital had been set up in the middle of a rabsad, and it was clear that nearby office spheres had also been converted into aid shelters, offering rest and overnight space for the displaced.

He looked around, wondering where he might be of use. Nearby, people were unloading boxes by hand. Auran headed over to offer his help.

Yellow Aidmen’ chevrons flickered in the dusk like lights drifting on a dark river. 

Five minutes later, his wristband chimed — the volunteer coordinator was calling. Coordinates came through, and he was told to head to the site.

Volunteers heaved blocks, lined up beams, hauled away warped panels. The air thrummed with clanging metal, foremen shouting, carts screeching. Despair had passed — only the dogged rhythm of labor remained. Auran and Maush bent and rose, their shoulders caked with sticky dust.

When they reached the sector where Maush’s family home had been, his pace slowed. The foundation jutted up like exposed ribs. Together they cleared chunks of concrete, shattered pieces of furniture. Suddenly, a faded scrap of photo paper slipped from the debris. Shapes of a family could still be made out, and behind them — the dry bed of the Pao, a dark scar running between the cliffs.

Maush froze. His fingers trembled. His breath caught. And then — just for a moment — a brilliant white disk flared above his head. Blinding. Pure. Like a strike of light straight to the eyes.