**CURRENTLY A FEATURED STORY**
highest ranking: #11 in Science fiction
❝true happiness is only achieved without freedom.
There is a girl who wakes to a world that she was supposed to protect. Instead, she fights it.
There is a man who is cursed wit...
Jonathan has become that higher power. Tetrahmon has.
"Look at your masterpiece, son," he tells me one late afternoon as we stand raise one another in the council room at the window, the doors closing behind the last member to exit the room. Repulsion engulfs my other emotions at his address and I step away from him; a slight shuffle to the right. He pretends not to notice and winds an arm around my shoulders. "Look," he repeats.
I ought to be proud, I think to myself as I lift my head to stare outside. A Father congratulating his son- I should be proud of what I've accomplished- with Adamík's help, of course. All I feel is emptiness.
The foul air of trickery envelops Jonathan, envelops the entire governmental bureau- candour and honesty are valued, and yet so are lies. They pile up on top of each other, not stopping until they drown everything.
I feel like I'm drowning.
I receive a clap on the shoulder for it. The skyline of the other side of Tetrahmon is visible now, where the sky is clear, where the buildings are silhouetted in front of the orange sun, half-obscured behind the corner of a building, sending a flare of light streaming across the city. Buildings are reflected in the glass panes of others; distorted, curved, irregular depictions of themselves.
The sky is ugly, colourful, poetic, painted with parallel, accentuated strokes of light and darkness.
The glass infrastructure of the city stands erect over the horizon, the wall barely visible, but there. All along the streets, there are hovercars that pass here and there, blue lights throw pools of illumination onto the grey stone streets. Life thrives where fundamental humanity does not. In Tetrahmon, it is almost everywhere so.
And amongst this linear, glossy cacophony of buildings and glass and straight lines come fine, circular instruments, littered with blinking white and red lights, black in colour, each the size of my head and each armed with sophisticated weaponry and beta technology.
The drones.
I turn to look at Jonathan as one flies by the window, smooth in its line of flight, unwavering, certain, robotic.
"I don't understand."
"Naturally not." The smug expression on his face is unnerving. "I couldn't tell you, of course. An idle mind is the devil's playground, my boy," he quotes.
"Did Adamík know?" I ask. My Father, mistrusting me? Perhaps he knows my secret- his affirmative 'no' calms me down.
"By working with inputting several specific coordinates, you've both initiated an algorithm that has set every single drone on a surveillance route. Each drone is assigned a specified sector of Tetrahmon to watch over. Isn't it splendid?" He's not expecting an answer, and so he gets none.
"This is how we will rule the city," he tells me. "This is how it will be done. Control. Happiness. Non-freedom, and intelligence." He's beaming as he stares outside. I don't see how there's anything that needs smiling about. All of it feels wrong.
"What do you mean, 'we'?" I demand of him.
"President Diana Malcom and I, of course." His tone is sickly sweet and uncomfortably reassuring.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I say stoically as I turn my back to the window and straighten my tie, fear gripping me. I don't want to look at the terror I've helped created. I take my briefcase and exit before Jonathan has the opportunity to say anything.
The coloured dreams re-visit me that night with ghostly whispers.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
