"Alone, his silence sings in a cage without doors,
because wings that have never known the sky…
do not know how to escape."
---
In a small white room,
like a box without keys.
Soft, clean walls,
empty except for a small mirror fixed on the wall opposite the bed.
A child lay on a narrow bed,
covered by a faded gray blanket.
His small body looked weaker than it should have…
His skin pale, almost bluish,
bony limbs pressing against the thin fabric,
long black hair falling across his face, covering half his eyes.
And his eyes — when they opened —
held a steady darkness,
eyes without shine or reflection.
But now…
His eyes were closed.
He lay there, neither asleep nor awake.
On his chest rested a small dove,
an old, worn-out toy,
its left wing torn as if it had survived a thousand falls.
His thin fingers gently cradled it —
not out of tenderness,
but simply because it was there.
Inside his head… words whispered.
"If only I could really sleep…"
His inner voice was faint,
barely carrying a tone.
"Drift away… sink… disappear…"
But he didn't know what sinking meant.
He didn't know what it felt like to sleep and feel safe.
No fear in his heart.
No anger.
Not even curiosity.
Just… emptiness.
In his mind, it was as if he saw himself floating above the clouds.
White, thick, glowing beneath a nameless light.
His weightless body slid across them,
as if nothing tied him to the earth.
His hands spread like wings,
air brushing against his face,
the sky calling him…
a place where words or commands were not needed.
Then — suddenly —
A harsh voice shattered the silence.
"R0, you have two minutes to exit.
Failure to comply will result in punishment."
A metallic voice echoed above his door,
breaking the moment that wasn't truly sleep.
His dark eyes opened slowly.
No sigh.
Not even a blink of weariness.
He reached his small hand to the edge of the bed,
sat up gently.
He placed the white dove carefully on the small table beside the bed,
then stood up.
With silent steps,
he approached the tiny sink beneath the mirror.
He raised his hands,
splashed cold water on his face.
He didn't flinch at the cold,
just left his hands there for a moment,
staring into his reflection in the glass.
A small face…
Pale…
Eyes dark and unshining.
He ran his fingers across his forehead,
fully revealing his eyes,
stared at them for a moment,
then turned.
He wore his white trousers,
tightened the thin belt holding his shirt in place at the waist,
and approached the door.
And whispered softly — a voice only he could hear:
"Again… how long…?"
When his hand touched the door,
it opened automatically,
revealing the space outside.
He stood there for a moment.
Then, without another word,
he stepped out.
---
When the door opened before him…
it revealed a vast, circular space,
like a closed arena surrounded by endless walls.
White walls enclosed the area,
but they were not silent.
Dozens of small doors were scattered across them,
each door leading to a room just like his.
At the heart of the arena…
stood several children,
divided into groups,
lined up in strict rows.
Before his door, a woman stood.
She wore a white lab coat,
a black badge in the shape of a flame pinned to her chest,
with the number One glowing within it.
Her eyes were cold,
hair pulled tightly back,
her steps precise and calculated.
"R0, follow me."
She said it with an emotionless voice,
as if issuing a command to a machine.
The child moved,
his steps light, silent.
He followed her across the arena,
his eyes flickering with faint curiosity…
but he did not name it curiosity.
He stopped when she raised her hand,
pointing to a line drawn on the ground.
There, etched into the cold tile,
was a large letter R.
He stood on it,
his black hair still falling down,
his eyes staring at his feet.
Slowly, other children gathered around him.
All bore the same letter — R — ten children in a single row.
Next to them, other factions: S, T, U… all the way to Z.
He understood the system.
Children divided into factions.
R0 raised his head slightly,
looking at them.
They were all here,
like pieces of a game waiting for commands.
He felt nothing toward them.
No surprise, no fear, no excitement.
Just…
he knew they were part of the system.
At the center of the arena,
the doctor raised her hand and spoke aloud:
"It's time for breakfast."
The factions moved in orderly lines,
long rows heading toward the tables lined up at the side of the arena.
Each faction sat at its own table.
On the table, small meals —
nearly tasteless, colorless, and odorless.
The children ate quickly, without a word.
When they finished,
they wiped their plates with cloths,
returned them to their places,
then stood in line again.
---
At the far end of the arena,
the doctor watched them from above,
a small sigh escaping her lips,
as if allowing herself a moment of weakness.
She whispered to herself:
"I hope something finally works…
I need this promotion…"
---
She raised her voice:
"Your training session begins precisely at six o'clock. Prepare yourselves."
Her eyes scanned the factions,
as if testing each one.
"The top ten winning factions tonight…
will receive a luxury dinner."
A small smile crossed her face —
A luxury dinner? Compared to breakfast? Barely…
but she knew the promise alone was enough.
"And they'll be granted two extra hours of sleep.
And maybe — just maybe —
they'll move to the next floor."
Here, many eyes lit up.
But R0?
He remained standing as he was,
without a single movement.
The doctor continued:
"As for the losing factions…
punishments await. More time here. Less time to sleep."
She stepped toward them,
the sound of her heels ringing in the closed arena:
"Remember: being on the upper floors is better than here…
And freedom awaits you outside.
But only those who use their powers well can reach it."
A large door on the opposite side opened.
Through it entered a group of doctors,
each holding a sleek electronic tablet,
glinting under the ceiling lights.
Each doctor approached a specific faction,
eyes sharp, fingers moving swiftly across their screens.
Finally, the lead doctor raised her hand and declared firmly:
"Follow your assigned doctors in order.
Any violation? Your entire faction will be punished."
The children stood,
dozens of eyes upon them,
dozens of synchronized footsteps began to move.
And through all this…
R0's heart remained still.
As if what was happening was to someone else,
somewhere else.
The doctor led the long line of children toward another open door on the eastern side of the arena.
There, beyond the door, stretched wide corridors,
their walls covered with screens displaying numbers, faction names,
and data boxes that shifted every second.
At the corridor's end, the doctor turned slowly:
"Faction R… you will go with Doctor Number 17."
He pointed to a tall, slender man wearing metallic glasses that gleamed in the light.
He didn't seem to see the children at all — only his tablet.
The children moved behind him,
lined up neatly,
their steps in perfect rhythm.
They passed through more automatic doors
until they reached a massive training hall,
its walls covered in metal panels,
a high ceiling,
thin black wires dangling from above.
At the center of the hall stood a large arena,
surrounded by a glowing transparent fence,
like a cage of light.
Outside the arena, several devices —
power gauges, analysis tools, monitoring screens.
Doctor 17 stood before them,
finally raising his head,
his voice calm but sharp:
"We will begin with a base power assessment."
R0 raised his eyes toward the arena.
He saw the light's reflection on it,
like the surface of still water.
The voices of other children began to fade from his mind,
and everything became silent.
Inside him,
there was only his body,
his slow heartbeat,
and a strange voice…
like a broken wing whispering:
"This is only the beginning."
One by one, the children of Faction R entered the arena.
First, a girl with short copper hair,
her fists clenched,
eyes sparking with electricity.
Before her, a small device lit up red,
measuring her strength.
She punched it — a bright flash —
the numbers appeared: 27 points.
Then, a boy with gray hair, narrow eyes like a cat's.
He leapt high, kicked the device — 32 points.
One by one, they stepped forward.
Scores ranging from the twenties to thirties.
Then… came R0's turn.
He stood there, his eyes half closed,
his body calm.
He heard whispers behind him:
"He's the weakest."
"He's just a number, meaningless."
But he didn't turn around.
He didn't care.
He entered the arena,
stood before the device.
He raised his hand slowly.
He didn't clench his fist.
He didn't take a fighting stance.
He simply… touched the device with his fingers.
One moment.
The doctor's screen began flashing.
The numbers shifted wildly.
[0… 0… 0… then — suddenly — — ERROR.]
The screen turned blue,
red words appeared: "Invalid Reading."
Silence filled the hall.
Doctor 17 raised an eyebrow,
stepped forward, checked his tablet,
reloaded the data.
The children whispered behind R0,
but he didn't hear them.
Inside him…
Something else was whispering.
Something not part of this hall, or these walls.
And suddenly, at the edge of his awareness,
he remembered something.
A voice, distant, from a time he couldn't name:
"When the time comes… you'll know."
Finally, the doctor said coldly:
"R0… you will be evaluated later. Return to your line."
The child returned to his place,
stood in line, expressionless.
But for the first time…
he felt something stir within him.
Not fear.
Not hope.
Just that deep, subtle sense:
Something is waiting for me…
and I am waiting for it.