EDEN

Three Years Post-EDEN Global Implementation

Bleakmoor

June, 2088

Tuesday, 8:25 p.m.

The chair creaked again as she shifted in her seat. Her 13-inch 2-in-1 laptop, which had seen better days, sat on the wooden table in front of her.

Sitting close to the window, she gazed at the night sky. Only a few stars were visible. The moon was a pale crescent, and Venus, the brightest planet, hung close to its curve. She turned her gaze to her daughter, who lay curled on the old sofa. Its fabric was worn and frayed in places, a few threads hanging loose. She watched the subtle rhythm of her small frame expanding and contracting with each breath. She looked back at the black screen, leaned against the back of the chair, and closed her eyes.

And slowly, exhaustion took over, and she drifted to sleep.

Five coded knocks – three quick, two slow-paced – brought her back to the present world. She jerked upright. Her eyes flew to her daughter. She's still asleep. She sighed in relief.

She slipped the key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. Marcus entered, locked the door, and leaned against it, breathing hard.

"What happened?" Elianila asked in a tight voice, almost in a whisper. "Did you get in touch with her?"

He looked at her and shook his head, his expression grim.

He swallowed hard. "The hardline was compromised. They're listening. They... now they know where the call came from."

Her gaze snapped towards the window, then back to him. "Were you followed?"

He shook his head. "I took the drainage tunnel, watched the alley for ten minutes before I crossed. No drones. No patrols. No tails."

She brought a hand to her head, her palm pressed flat against her temple, eyes shut, fingers curling into the hair. She sighed. Her hand fell away, her gaze falling to the floor, to the cracked tile and the dust. Then she looked up, met Marcu's eyes, and turned her head towards her sleeping daughter. Her eyes lingered for a moment before shifting to the black screen of her laptop.

"Then we look," she said.

9:40 p.m.

The sound of a soft rhythmic breathing pulled her gaze to the adjacent chair. Marcus had finally succumbed to exhaustion, his head tilted back. Her eyes then drifted to the sofa, where her daughter shifted on the sofa, a tiny sigh escaping her lips. She watched them for some time, then, slowly, turned back to the screen.

She closed all the windows, and navigated to a secure shell prompt. She typed a command that bypassed all local security and reached directly into the heart of the System she had helped build. A new window materialised on the screen.

Tucked under her keyboard was a wrinkled piece of paper. Written were credentials she had retrieved from David Wilson's encrypted personal drive before he was flagged, processed, and eliminated.

She took a deep steadying breath, and entered the log in credentials. The screen went black for a second before data began to cascade across the screen - real-time surveillance feeds, processing logs, neural network activation patterns, and behavioural scores.

Her eyes settled on global statistics status.

Population under Surveillance: 7, 847, 568, 021

Active Processing Streams: 4, 847, 338

Detection Events (24hrs): 48, 021

Scrolling to resolution statistics, her eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed in dread.

Total Flagged (Cumulative): 386, 383, 104

Processed to Completion: 381, 940, 287

Pending Resolution: 4, 442, 817

The system assessed its detection accuracy at 98.4% - a number so high Elianila felt it was less statistics and more like a verdict.

A soft groan broke the silence. She glanced over as Marcus stirred, rubbing a hand over his face as he woke from his exhausted nap. His eyes, bleary and red-rimmed, found her still hunched over the screen.

"Any luck?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

She let out a slow, frustrated breath, shaking her head as she sank back in her chair.

"Look at the statics," she said.

Marcus turned the screen slightly towards himself.

"My goodness," he exclaimed after studying the data. "It's getting worse."

She nodded.

"At this point we can't shut it down,"she said. "It has become more complex, and well attuned, and guarded."

She slightly turned the monitor towards herself, and leaned closer. How was the System capable of producing precision accuracy in targeting the dissents? she thought. Her eyes scanned the screen, tracing patterns, numbers, and anomalies, trying to unravel the invisible logic behind each calculated move. Every data set seemed deliberate, every calculation precise. Her mind span through possibilities, each raising more questions than answers, and somewhere deep inside, a shadow of fear whispered that the System's precision might be sharper, deadlier, than she was ready to confront.

Fingers moving quickly, she traced patterns across the nodes, dragging connections in ways the System hadn't expected. The data shifted beneath her touch, lines snapping into alignment, calculations unfolding faster than she could follow. She watched as the System executed its reasoning with ruthless precision.

She hit a key to elicit a response when a red alert flashed across the screen.

SECURITY BREACH DETECTED

UNAUTHORISED ACCESS – SECTOR 7

TRIANGULATION IN PROGRESS

PRECISION: 84%...88%...92%...

"No. No. No..."she whispered in horror, attempting to sever the connection.

She was too late.

"What is it?" Marcus asked.

"They found us."

"We have to move," he said. He stood up, and strode into the next room to gather his things.

Elianila slammed the laptop shut, and walked to the room. She gathered her things, and her daughter's, shoved them in her backpack, and returned to the main room.

"Zara," she whispered, shaking her shoulder gently, then more firmly. "Wake up. We have to go."

Zara stirred, confused and heavy with sleep. "Mama..."

"We have to go,"she repeated.

Marcus was waiting at the door, both his and Elianila's backpacks slung over each shoulder. Elianila emerged, her daughter's small hand firmly in hers. Without a word, he locked the door, and the three of them descended the staircase and out of the building's back gate.

Somewhere in the ruins of Ashwall

11:20 p.m.

They alighted from a taxi in front of a badly damaged building. The street was nearly deserted. A few businesses were still open, and a handful of people roamed the sidewalks.

A figure emerged from the shadows of an alley, and approached them.

"Pastor Kim." Elianila cried, tears of relief at seeing him flooded her eyes.

He embraced her. A fatherly hug that let loose tears of betrayal, hurt, guilt and fear.

He released her and looked into her eyes, his hands gently gripping her arms. "Be strong," he said.

Elianila nodded.

He gave her a final squeeze then smoothed his hand over her daughter's hair.

"What is the situation, Pastor?" Marcus asked.

"Our temporary hiding place for now will be at the abandoned subway. The others, precisely, fifteen, will have arrived there within a half-an-hour."

Marcus nodded.

"Let's go," Pastor Kim said.

Windrow

Thursday

10:50 p.m.

The subway had been abandoned for months. The entrance into the subway was partly damaged. A part of the roof and wall had fallen in, creating a pile of concrete and twisted metal bars. Past the broken entrance, a little light from outside didn't reach far in the interior, leaving most of the main tunnel in deep darkness. The air was cold and damp. The only sounds that could be heard were the steady drip of water and the faint scuffing of rats.

"This subway, similar to many other subways, was identified as 'security flaw' in their panopticon. The subways were where dissent festered. The networks the System couldn't perfectly monitor and control were sealed as they appeared a threat to it," Pastor Kim said.

Elianila cast another glance at the subway entrance, taking in its sorry state.

Twelve days had passed since they found refuge in the subway. Marcus, Pastor Kim, and other two men, would occasionally venture outside to determine the degree of safety around and several metres from the subway, and to get essential items.

Elianila was sitting on a flat section of rubble, her daughter asleep beside her. On her left was Pastor Kim. Marcus and the two men had ventured outside. "I thought..."

"We have to move," Marcus said, panting. "We're not safe."

"What do you mean?" Elianila asked, rising up.

"We saw three drones circling the buildings across the street. They weren't far. Maybe twenty, thirty metres away, just above the rooftops."

"They're not on a patrol grid," one of the two men said. "They're loitering - hovering, dipping, and scanning the same perimeter."

Pastor Kim was already on his feet. "How long do we have?"

"Maybe two minutes before they drop lower and get a sonar ping off these tunnels," the other said.

Pastor Kim stood before the huddled group he had called. "We're not safe. Our location has been compromised. We have about two minutes to move from this location."

They hurriedly gathered their things. They had barely reached the main tunnel when they heard a piercing scream slicing through the air from somewhere above. It was a sound of pure terror, cut short completely it was more chilling than the scream itself.

Then they heard high-pitched whirling sounds of drones. Not one. Not two. Three... Maybe four.

They froze.

Elianila held her breath, feeling her daughter's body tense as the whining grew louder. She squeezed her hand gently, steadying herself as much as the child.

Will this be the end of her and the others hiding from the System? she wondered. Will her daughter, who was holding her hand firmly, horror written on her face, be taken from her and sent to who-knows-where? She turned to look in the direction of the subway entrance, anticipating that their fate would be sealed.

"Let's move towards the Northern tunnel," Pastor Kim said.

Hurriedly, they scrambled through the darkness of the main tunnel, Marcus guiding them to the Northern tunnel.

When they reached the back of the tunnel, Marcus asked for assistance, tearing at a solid concrete wall. It revealed a gap behind a section of loose debris.

"There's a maintenance shaft," he said. "It connects to the old water treatment..."

He was cut off by the sounds of boots descending the rubble slope above them.

Everyone froze, their eyes meeting in a shared look of pure terror.

"Let's move," Marcus whispered.

Pastor Kim helped the people through the opening, steadying them as they dropped into the darkness below. Elianila dropped into the narrow opening, landing in ankle-deep water. The awful smell hit her – the stench of stagnant water, chemicals, and decay. Pastor Kim, the last to enter, pulled the concealment grate closed behind him just as the boots were getting closer to their hiding place.

They moved through the darkened tunnel, water sloshing softly around their feet. Behind them came the sounds of the soldiers searching the main tunnel.

They heard shouts. Equipment being moved. A high-raised commanding voice saying, "Nothing here. Expand the search parameters. They're on foot. They can't have gone far."

They moved in silence through the maintenance shaft.

After what felt like hours, Marcus stopped. "This connects to the green line subway. From there, we can get to a safe house," he said.

Elianila slumped against the curved tunnel wall and pressed her daughter's head on her chest, fighting back tears.

"Let's move, "Marcus addressed the group. "We still have a long way to go."

They moved deeper, nineteen souls fleeing from an enemy that was bent on eliminating them.