Jazelle barely rested. Orb and her mother had selected an accommodation located within the Lower Levels of Grave-Downe. She sighed and closed her eyes. Her thoughts brewed like a storm. She recalled the events of the day and the stunning sights reflected in her eyes.

Jazelle realized that the architecture of Grave Downe was complex and multidimensional. There was a central core, which was considered a hub that allowed people to travel to all parts of Grave-Downe. Here, people used their abilities openly in the streets. Jazelle watched as a girl manipulated water using her hands. The girl was walking around on the Lower-Levels with a cup; she used her finger like a wand, lifting her finger at different heights until the water swooshed out of the cup like a ribbon.

Here, people were not called ShArDs or Shrap. In this broken-down sanctuary…they were just people. The general population was young and trendy…Jazelle found herself eyeing some of the teenagers dressed in neon-sequined shirts. The sequins shone in the neon city lights, glinting like disco balls from years passed. Their shirts also changed colour, depending on the holographic display running on them. Jazelle saw an animation of a dolphin jumping up and down. The next moment, she saw a holographic ad for a soda drink. She glanced with interest. Jazelle was intrigued. The city was grungy and dirty, and yet it had a bit of youthful cheer. 

As Orb rolled about in her wheelchair, pushed by her mother, she turned and looked at Jazelle.

“It’s all new to you, isn’t it?”

Jazelle swallowed and looked around. “Yeah…I’m not used to something so…flashy.”

“What do you think about staying here?” Orb asked.

The question wrapped around her mind like a whispered temptation. But as she thought about it, she recalled her warm home in Sun-Downe, the dunes stretching beyond the Great Plains, and her life as a mechanic. She really missed her tools. She wanted to get back to work. Talk to her clients. Talk to people twice her age about things she barely knew but wanted to understand. She stopped.

“I would like to go back if I’m able to,” Jazelle said.

Orb paused, then looked back. “But you know you can’t.”

Jazelle felt an unsettling pit lie in the bottom of her stomach. It was a bottomless hole. A hole with no beginning or end. Her heart stopped. She knew the Sun-Downe she believed in was merely an illusion. It was safe to all…except ShArDs, and now that she found out she was one. She knew she would constantly be on the run. 

She remembered when she used to work in her workshop. Tools neatly stacked in front of her. The sound of hammers and machines constantly clammering in the background. Like a beautiful lullaby that could soothe and put her to sleep. Jazelle looked across and saw the teenagers, all cast in shadow, all grouped like mice in a cage. Constantly vigilant, constantly terrified. If she didn’t move, she knew, she would soon become one of them. 

Grave-Downe wasn’t too bad. It was vast, wide, bustling, and free…maybe she could stay. But she was unsure. 

“Will have to think about it,” Jazelle said. “You know, if you’re a newcomer to a city…” Jazelle said. “You have to show me around.”

Orb smirked. “Sure, will do, we should introduce you to The Shelter here.”

Jazelle went to sleep that night with a ravenous sea of thoughts. The waves kept on pulling and drawing her in, sinking and drawing her deeper and deeper.

-

Orb sat in the other room with her mother. She straightened her shirt, and her mother hurriedly boiled a kettle of water right by the entrance of their small accommodation. Orb’s mother turned to face her daughter.

“Lyra,” Orb’s mother said. “Will we finally be safe?”

Her mother offered her a cup of tea. A chopped piece of tealeaf lingered on the edge of the cup. Orb’s reflection stared back at her. This was Lyra. Her face was so small that it could be contained within the cup itself. Her long blond hair was parted in two,  like streams of water that would flow into an empty lake. She looked at the face, the face that resembled her brother’s years past. That same brother who was found in a muddy ditch on the edge of town. His face was half covered in wounds and blood. His eyes were open. He was only twelve.

Lyra blinked her eyes several times to dispel the image from her mind.

“We’ll finally be safe, mother,” Lyra said, smiling. “We won’t be like Adrian.”

Lyra’s mother plunged forward onto the edge of the bed and hugged her daughter. The mattress was soft and unsupported; it slumped in the middle of the bed like a broken bridge. Lyra felt her mother’s clasp on her. The hug was tight. Her mother’s fingernails were brittle. There was still dirt trapped underneath the bottom of her fingernails. Lyra felt it as her mother dug her fingernails deep into her skin. The wallowing scream of sorrow. Just the two of them in the barren, empty room. An enclosed space that was safe, compared to their wide, derelict home years prior, which always had to be patched up, re-patched and patched again. 

Orb wanted to tear herself away from such a hug; it was suffocating, inhumane, leeching…but Lyra stopped herself. Lyra saw a flash of light, and she froze, like a computer program malfunctioning. Memories of the future came flowing in. Lyra saw bursts coming in—a metallic shelter. Jazelle there. People were talking and shouting. A dispute. It all came to her at once. Lyra previously smiled. But the smile stopped. The face that was so delicate and frail soon became a mask, a prophet on a projector that only spoke the words that appeared in her head. She was a machine, spitting out words like a computer program. She wasn’t a human. She had no emotions, no need for them. Orb was just like the receptor — a communication-based tool.

“We just need to talk to The Shelter. They’ll help both of us.” Orb said.

Lyra felt helpless as she heard her own voice. Her own voice, dictating and commanding. Like a giant cyber-dog that would emerge from behind her, inch near her with large cybernetic teeth, ripping her alive. Orb was a projection, a representative of her abilities. Lyra was docile, timid, and cautious. Orb was enigmatic, precise, mature, and ruthless. 

Orb saw the plan in her head, and the map fastened to her mind was dictating what Lyra had to do. As Lyra saw the visions, she had no choice but to act. Orb was chewing upon her mind and body and using it as collateral. Lyra will disappear like the Ruins to the Portal. It was old…making way for the new.

–

Lior reached The Shelter in Grave-Downe. The Shelter was a place where users of all types gathered. It was their central government. It was located in the Neither-Layer. The place was accessed by going through a bunch of tunnels and secret passages. One had to know the route to get there. Anyone could get there, but it just took a lot of maneuvering. 

In front of Lior was a huge iron-clasped door. It was covered in red lines. It looked like blood that was running and flowing. In front of the door was a circular touch pad. Lior touched the touchpad, drew several shapes into it, and stepped forward. The door unlocked one notch, and then a camera appeared like an eye in the centre of the door. It scanned Lior’s body. It clicked three times before twisting and turning. Lior entered the space, the door closing behind her. 

The hallway was bright. White covered the ground and floors. Lior trailed by like a shadow of ink. She stopped in the middle. Opposite her was Spectre.

She wore her bright green cloak in a shroud around her. Time only made her scars run deeper. Her lips were as still as the mask that sat in her face, a fading reminder of her humanity. She spoke.

“Not sure what you’re doing here. Turn back, Lior.”

Lior stared at Spectre. She looked at her robotic hands. Cold, stilled, lifeless. Lior turned her head to the side.

“Jazelle is here.”

Spectre’s eyes opened wide.

“The system detected her?”

Lior spoke. “I didn’t expect her to get involved with The Suspect.”

Lior shifted her eyes to the side. “They’re all here.”

Lior looked like a lonely crystal flower bedded on sheaves of ice.

Lior talked, “The Mesh is fading. The system detected her. They know she is a ShArD.”

Spectre replied, “She isn’t.”

“But if I don’t get her out,” Lior said. “She will be.”

Spectre looked at Lior. Lior’s face was expressionless, but her eyes emanated sorrow.

“I can’t promise you anything,” Spectre said.

“You can’t promise me anything,” Lior said. “I’ll be dealing with it myself!”

Lior stormed past Spectre to the other side of the hall with the doors closing in behind her.

–

Jazelle followed Orb and her mother to The Shelter. 

The previous evening, Jazelle had talked to Orb’s mother at the accommodation. She was a frail lady. The lines on her face showed, and she had not showered in days.

Jazelle scooched over, looked at her, awkwardly halted her hand in mid-wave, and said, “Hi.”

Orb’s mother looked back at her. “Hello,” she said.

Orb’s mother’s hands were crossed right in front of her, and she was seated on a sofa in the lobby. Although the sofa looked comfy, warm, and plush, she sat as still as a pencil.

Jazelle plopped herself onto the couch beside her.
“...How have you been finding everything? It must’ve been a tiring bunch of days.”

Orb’s mother appeared composed, but then she puckered her lips. Her face lay in her hands.

“Awful! I don’t know where we’re going, and where we are!”

Jazelle looked at her, surprised. The mother continued speaking.

“She says we are going to The Shelter, she says we will finally be safe, but we have been on the run since forever…I keep on looking at my daughter, trying to decipher her intentions, but sometimes…I feel like Lyra isn’t there.”

Jazelle paused. Her hands covered her mouth, and her eyes shifted left and right.

“It’s like the daughter who I used to know…now she speaks as if she were a mouthpiece. She used to talk about more mundane things, picture books, airships, now all she talks about is The Plan.”

Jazelle’s mind was ticking like gears.

“When did this happen?” Jazelle asked.”

“A-around 2 years ago. When her abilities started to appear.”

When Jazelle heard this statement, her stomach dropped. Everything appeared in a new light. 

The lights of Grave-Downe were seductive and attractive, but maybe it's because of this that they blinded her to the darker realities of the place. Everyone seemed to be living in a plastered reality. At first, Jazelle took an interest in them, but soon she realized something. All the women were dressed like fashionable plastic bags on the storefronts. They danced and twirled their arms like marionettes on a string. As she walked through crowds, she noticed them. They all walked like a crowd of factory workers, in groups and in pairs. Like a copied set of plastic moulds that could be cloned at any time. They all smelt of corrosive, putrid acid and smoke. Jazelle could take a snapshot of each one of them, and they would all be here, perfectly frozen in time. 

They walked in the corridor and stopped by the iron-clad door. 

Jazelle stood in the hallway, caught in ringing silence, as Orb drew several gestures on the touchpad, as if she had this scene several times before. The door opened, and before them sat a set of individuals. 

They were all covered in black cloaks; a stark contrast to the brightly lit room. The room felt strangely familiar to Jazelle. The room felt like a lab, an experiment. The System was watching them. The cloaked figures in the room almost looked like scientists. They assembled like a prophecy. They spoke as one.

One spoke. “Orb, is it?”

All turned their attention towards Orb.

“We heard about you,” the other spoke.

“Captured by the footage, yet managed to escape.”

“A suspect.”

Orb spoke, “Yes, that’s me.”

She spoke with command, “I’m here to seek asylum.”

The room shone red.

“Asylum?”

“That’s quite a lot for you to ask.”

Orb fell silent.

One point. “Who are the two behind you?”

Eyes fell on Jazelle and Orb’s mother. A fifteen-year-old teenager and a forty-year-old woman, whose lines creased deeper into her forehead from her years of endless running. The Council eyed Orb’s mother like an insect. Dirt was stuck in her hair, and her clothes hung onto her body like a used rag. She looked like she could easily be tossed into the dumpster.

Orb spoke, “They’re my colleagues. Any issue with that?”

There was jagged silence. Then the oldest of them, a sixteen-year-old, pointed at the mother. Her fingernail was long, extended like a witch, rough at the ends.

“She is a liability. If anyone were targeted first, it would be her.”

There was silence.

“The government would use her to infiltrate our systems.”

The mother quivered; she curled her fingers back into her palms.

Jazelle spoke. “I don’t see how that can be a problem. We can just defend her ourselves.”
One of them turned their gaze upon Jazelle. “Anyone who can’t defend themselves is a threat to our meritocracy. That isn’t how the system works here.”

Jazelle looked at the figures in astonishment.