Thin slivers of dawn slipped through the blinds, painting faint stripes across the wall. The digital clock on the nightstand blinked 7:30, signaling the start of a new day. Arvin stirred, slowly opening his eyes and stretching, the cool morning air brushing his skin. The faint scent of fresh metal and stale coffee lingered in the room—a remnant of last night's work.
Thoughts, Arvin: God, I don't want to get up… Maybe I should skip this meeting? No! I've got to go check it out. What if this is my shot at a real job?
He sat up on the bed, rubbing his face with weary hands. The apartment was eerily silent. His gaze wandered around the room, settling on the cluttered workbench. The mechanical arms he'd finished last night sat ready, and he itched to test them.
Thoughts, Arvin: Hmm, if this job pans out, I could afford quality materials—maybe even nanomaterial. Man, what a mess. I should clean up before I drown in the dust of oblivion. Why am I getting all philosophical? Whatever—time for coffee!
Arvin shuffled to the kitchen, approached the coffee machine, and jabbed the button a few times. Nothing. He leaned over, twisted a couple of screws, pressed a loose contact, and after a moment, the machine gurgled to life, dispensing coffee.
Thoughts, Arvin: How many times have I fixed you…
As the coffee dripped into his mug, his eyes drifted to the window. Sunlight softly kissed the glass, stirring memories of waking up back home at this hour—his parents bustling in the kitchen, him lazily eating breakfast before school.
Thoughts, Arvin: Carefree times… too far gone.
He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away, grabbed his mug, and switched on the TV. The old set flickered, its screen glowing faint blue before a news anchor's voice filled the room. Arvin leaned back in his chair, sipping the strong coffee, when the broadcast shifted to something odd that made him freeze.
A young journalist appeared on-screen, microphone in hand, standing amidst bustling streets. Behind her, police were erecting strange structures—massive tripods with metallic nodes. The camera trembled slightly, capturing armored officers laden with modules, engineers scurrying about, and blinking indicators on the devices.
Anchor: Right now, in the city's western sector, authorities are installing generators to activate a protective barrier. According to police, these devices create an invisible dome-like field capable of isolating a vast area from external interference.
The camera panned to a tall man in a captain's uniform, his nameplate gleaming: "Captain Dave." He stood with hands clasped behind his back, his gaze tired but resolute.
Anchor: Captain Dave, can you tell us—is this barrier safe for citizens, and what's its purpose?
Dave smirked faintly.
Captain Dave: The barrier's technology is a classified police development. But I assure you, it's completely safe. People can pass through it freely—no harm to them or their modules.
Anchor: But why is it needed? Is something dangerous happening? And if so, how can a barrier that doesn't affect people or modules help?
Dave hesitated, glancing aside, clearly choosing his words.
Captain Dave: Well, you know… sometimes unexpected… anomalies occur. Like a flock of rogue… techno-pigeons invading downtown and causing chaos. Or… well, we need to be prepared for anything.
Arvin choked on his coffee.
Thoughts, Arvin: What nonsense! Techno-pigeons? I spilled my coffee… This is our police? How's this guy even a captain?
The anchor blinked, unsure if he was joking. Just then, a young lieutenant rushed up.
Lieutenant: Captain, urgent update!
Dave exhaled, visibly relieved to escape the awkward moment.
Captain Dave: Oh, sorry, duty calls! He turned and left with the lieutenant.
The camera cut back to the anchor, who barely hid a smile.
Thoughts, Arvin: That barrier… "Classified development," huh? Looks ordinary enough, but those components they're hooking up are intriguing. Seems like it's designed to scan anything entering or leaving. I saw something similar on the black market—a door scanner, but not on this scale…
Anchor: As you can see, the police are ensuring our safety… even from techno-pigeons. The barrier currently spans from 12th Street to the Eastern Bridge. A city map appeared, with the dome's boundaries highlighted in red.
Arvin took another sip and nearly choked again when he saw the map.
Thoughts, Arvin: Of course! They've surrounded the exact district I need to get to for this meeting. Now what? Not that I'm worried—I haven't done anything illegal… Well, except for not paying taxes on those handmade modules I sold. Whatever, I'll take a chance and go. They won't lock me up over taxes… What am I even thinking? The police are probably running some operation—they won't care about me.
He set the mug down, stood with a creak of the chair, and went to change.
By 8:30, Arvin was ready. As he dressed, his mind swirled with thoughts—home, school, work, relationships (if you could call them that). Everything, big and small, flooded in. He tried to push it all aside, but a faint unease stirred in his chest. Or had it always been there?
Thoughts, Arvin: Alright, I'm set! It's 8:30, so I've got about 25 minutes to get there. If I don't dawdle or run into trouble, I'll arrive around 8:50. Gotta show them I'm punctual—even if that's not exactly my strong suit. Here we go!
Arvin shouted, "Let's do this!" and stepped into the dark stairwell. The corridors of the high-rise were shrouded in gloom, lit only by flickering lamps casting dim light on peeling walls. The building, slated for demolition in the 2030s, had somehow been spared and handed to a wealthy landlord. Now it housed those scraping by, like Arvin.
He called the elevator and stepped inside, pressing the button. As the doors began to close, a shadow darted from above.
Voice: Sorry, we're going down too!
The doors halted, and a guy slipped in, followed by a girl. Both looked about Arvin's age.
The elevator descended in tense silence. Arvin glanced at the strangers. No visible modules—unsurprising, given the cost and the kind of people living here.
Thoughts, Arvin: No modules on them… Not surprising in a dump like this. Odd, though—I've never seen them before. When did they move in?
The elevator stopped, and the three headed for the exit. At the threshold, the girl turned.
Girl: Hey, you live in apartment 13?
Arvin nodded calmly.
Thoughts, Arvin: Yeah. And you?
He drew out the question slightly, hinting he didn't know their apartment.
Girl: We're your new neighbors upstairs!
Arvin raised an eyebrow.
Arvin: So the family up there moved out… Got it. I'm Arvin.
The girl smiled.
Girl: Nice to meet you! I'm Diana, and this is…
Before she could finish, the guy cut in.
Guy: Name's Hanzon!
Diana elbowed him, unimpressed.
Diana: His name's Ilya.
Ilya grinned sheepishly.
As they stepped outside, Diana waved.
Diana: Alright, we're off to work. Good luck, Arvin!
Arvin: Thanks, you too.
They parted ways. As Arvin walked toward his bus stop, he reflected.
Thoughts, Arvin: They're so upbeat. That's nice… Their vibe's rubbing off on me.
At the bus stop, a sign confirmed his fears: no service due to technical issues. He sighed but refused to let it drag him down. Scanning the empty street, he thought.
Thoughts, Arvin: Good thing I left early. Hoped to get there in five minutes by bus. Now I'll have to walk—don't want to blow my savings on a taxi…
He set off along the sidewalk, his steps echoing in the quiet alleys. The street lacked the glossy neon glow of futuristic ads. Instead, it was drab—gray buildings with outdated panels and sagging metal frames, a forgotten corner of the city. Old, battered cars rumbled by, far from modern.
Arvin barely noticed the details, focused on getting to his destination without spending extra. Turning onto the main road, he spotted a taxi parked on the curb. The driver, a middle-aged man, wore a badge reading "Dylan." Their eyes met briefly, but Arvin raised an eyebrow and kept walking. He wasn't wasting money.
Thoughts, Arvin: No way I'm spending 5 credits on a taxi when a bus would've been 1.5. I'll walk—healthy lifestyle, right?
A voice broke his thoughts.
Dylan: Hey, kid, you heading toward the Eastern Bridge?
Arvin stopped and sized up the driver.
Arvin: Yeah, that's the place, but I'll get there myself.
The driver persisted.
Dylan: Hold up! I'll take you for 2 credits, no worries.
Arvin paused, squinting at him.
Thoughts, Arvin: Why so cheap?
Noticing his suspicion, the driver explained.
Dylan: Relax, it's cheap because I've got a fare there already. Gets boring driving alone, so I figured I'd give you a deal. When else can you ride a taxi this cheap?
Arvin considered.
Thoughts, Arvin: Two credits? That's nothing… Well, for some people. Alright, can't pass this up!
He looked at the driver and sighed.
Arvin: Fine, I'm in.
Dylan grinned.
Dylan: That's the spirit!
Arvin climbed into the car, and they pulled away.
They rode in silence for a bit until Dylan spoke.
Dylan: So, you're Arvin, right? Got our message yesterday?
Thoughts, Arvin: What? How does he know my name? Does he work for the company? Or… is this a setup?
A click echoed as the doors locked. No one was getting out now.