April 10, 2079 A.D. (After Dissolution)
Tier-1 Megacity: Vanta Core
The mirror was old—not in age, but in design. Emric liked it that way. While most homes in Vanta Core relied on nano-reflective walls that could morph shape and even recommend grooming choices, Emric's was framed in dark wood, a relic his father had restored from a salvage zone. The glass had minor imperfections, which made it feel… honest.
He tilted his head, studying the reflection.
Tightly wound curls of black hair sat unruly atop his head, and his amber eyes—sharper than most his age—held a rare mix of calm and calculation. His face, still soft with youth, was built on fine bones and shadowed lightly by fatigue. A faint line ran beneath his right eye. Not a scar. Just the echo of too many sleepless nights, studying, digging through fragmented history archives, or tuning his old synth-journal to pick apart fragments of pre-Dissolution audio files.
His uniform blazer was still draped on the nearby chair, half-buttoned shirt exposing a high-grade wristband sitting snugly on his left wrist. His fingers brushed against the slim silver band, a matte-gray communicator. Most models came in bright neon or transparent polymer, but his was custom—basic, clean, and stripped of unnecessary flair. It buzzed once.
[6:30 A.M. Reminder: Final high school gathering today.]
He sighed and let the mirror go.
"EMRIC!" His mother's voice sailed in from the common room. "If you don't get out here in two seconds, your eggs will learn teleportation!"
He chuckled under his breath, grabbing his jacket and stepping into the soft-lit corridor of their multi-tiered pod. Their unit wasn't large by Tier-1 standards, but it felt open thanks to clever architecture—sun-strips embedded in the ceiling mimicked daylight, and living plants grew up a reclaimed-metal scaffold by the dining window.
The table was already buzzing with morning energy.
His father—broad-shouldered and smiling through a mouthful of toast—glanced up from the morning city-feed. "Well, would you look at that. The city's top unawakened mind finally stirs from his sanctum."
"Only because your 'city's top cook' threatened me with teleporting eggs," Emric replied dryly, slipping into his chair. His mother shot him a look, then pointed a spatula at his plate with dramatic flair.
"Smart mouths get cold yolks."
His sister, Reni, let out a laugh, snorting orange juice out her nose.
"You're the only person who makes eggs and threats sound like the same thing," Emric muttered, pushing his food around. "Where's my encouragement? It's the last day of high school."
"Exactly," Reni piped up. "Which means it's your last chance to finally ask—what's-her-name—Karya out before you go full recluse in the Academy!"
His father coughed. His mother didn't bother hiding the smirk.
"Oh, please," Emric groaned, trying not to flush. "She's not even—"
"She's been waiting for you to make a move since tenth grade," Reni said, raising an eyebrow. "And don't say she's out of your league. Your grades make the rest of us look genetically inferior."
"Besides," his mother added, flipping the last of the breakfast. "It's not like she's looking for a Kinetor to fling buildings. Smart is sexy."
His father tapped his wristband. "Top percentile in the city, and you're already in the Academy. That's a better resume than most new academy candidates."
"Yeah, well," Emric muttered, glancing at his still-unlit sync band, "I haven't awakened yet."
The silence was brief—but present.
His mother stepped over and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "You will. Naturally awakened or not, the class chooses the mind and heart, not the noise around it."
He nodded, but didn't reply. He appreciated their faith. But the gap was widening. Every day someone else awakened—spontaneously or through the induced method. His own childhood friend, Lio, had awakened a year ago. Karya's appointment for induced awakening was today.
And him?
Still waiting.
By 7:10 A.M., Emric stepped out onto the upper corridor of Sector-5's residential ring.
The city breathed beneath him.
Vanta Core was the largest of Earth's 123 megacities, a colossal spire-world with multiple vertical tiers, each housing hundreds of thousands. Sky rails hovered on magnetic routes. Drones blinked silently as they passed overhead. Architectural giants loomed like sculpted gods, gleaming in glass and alloy.
The air was cleaner than it had any right to be. Governmental green domes filtered it daily, pulling impurities and charging the breathable layer with minor restorative agents. Even the wind, when it came, felt curated.
He found Lio waiting at the lift-junction—a tall, lean figure in a layered gray jacket, headphones slung around his neck.
"You look like you just stepped out of a memory archive," Lio said, grinning. "Did you even sleep?"
Emric smirked. "Remind me which one of us flunked History of the Collapse?"
"I didn't flunk. I just think obsessing over pre-Dissolution relics is your weird kink."
"It's called uncovering the truth. Not everyone's satisfied mining tech from the Otherworld."
"Yeah, yeah." Lio adjusted his wristband. The glowing arc beneath his skin pulsed faintly. A sign of active synchronization. "Still no luck on your side?"
Emric shook his head. "I'm not worried."
"You should be. People are starting to place bets."
As they turned the corner, the third member of their trio joined them.
Karya.
She was striking, not just in the way wealth allowed for beauty—tailored uniforms, perfect skin tone, iridescent ocular lenses—but in the quiet confidence she carried. Her sync-band flashed pale violet, a rare color, but expected from someone preparing for induced awakening.
"Hey," she said softly. "Nervous?"
Emric raised an eyebrow. "About finals?"
Karya rolled her eyes. "About me getting an elite-class awakening and leaving you both behind."
"You'd never leave me behind," Lio said.
"I meant Emric."
They laughed. Emric didn't.
The truth was, he was worried. Not just about her awakening, or his lack thereof—but about the widening world between them. Soon, they would all be in the Academy, but walking different paths.
And he couldn't help but wonder… was his still being written?