"The mind is a mirror; the more you stare into it, the more it reflects what should not be seen."
— Fragmented Notes, Prometheus Division
Cadet Academy,
VFP,
New Facility.
The lower assembly wing always smelled like burnt circuits and metal polish. The air was colder there, as was the kind that stuck to your lungs and made every breath feel like a drill. Hundreds of cadets stood shoulder to shoulder, as rows of gray uniforms stretched down the steel-floored hall. Bale and Tora slipped into formation, though still half-awake, and their steps echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
Meters away, holographic banners flared to life above them. The VFP insignia spun slowly like floating shards of light. Beneath the glow were some figures in crimson beret and white uniforms. The instructors lined the podium, their faces seemingly carved out of stone. One of them, a lean man with streaks of silver hair, stepped forward and spoke through the intercom at the center of the podium.
"Good day Cadets. Today's synchronization test shall determine your rank promotion, and for some... it's gonna be a bad day" he said. His voice was smooth, but carried an edge that could cut. "This is because today is your final evaluation day which takes place at the end of every three months, and will determine your cumulative VCI. Those who fail to attain the cumulative VCI limit for rank promotion will be automatically retained to their old ranks until further review." He darted his eyes through the crowd, as if expecting someone to throw up.
Hearing this, a few cadets groaned under their breath. Bale just stared at his wrist, where his neural band rested snug against his skin. The thin metallic strip wouldn't stop momentarily pulsing blue once before dimming again. It was supposed to be simple: keep your thoughts steady, let the band read your neural frequency, and sync. Easy, right?
... Just that Bale's mind never stopped talking.
The damned lad could even hear his own thoughts buzzing in this damned moment of solemnity!
'Don't mess this up. Don't mess this up. Please don't mess this up.'
Beside him, Tora looked calm as ever. "You look like you're about to confess to your soup," she whispered.
Bale forced a weak grin. "Maybe it'll pray for me."
The instructor raised his arm, and the hall fell silent immediately. "Now, activate bands."
At that moment, a wave of light spread through the crowd as hundreds of neural bands lit up, glowing veins of blue and green winding up cadets' arms. The hum of synchronized energy filled the room, low vibrations rattling the air.
Bale watched, fascinated. When a band synced perfectly, the light pulsed a steady blue, calm and rhythmic, almost alive. Some cadets glowed with confident green, a sign of developing resonance. But a few flickered, their lights uncertain, twitching between green and blue like a pulse under strain. That was not strange.
One flicker caught his eye, though.
His own.
'God damnit. Not again.'
It started as a tiny red spark, hidden under the skin of blue light. Then it grew brighter. Red meant totally unstable, dangerous levels of neural distortion. Too much flicker, and the sync could abort, frying the neural nodes on your temples like old circuit chips.
'... I'm trying...'
Tora noticed first. "Uh… Bale," she whispered. "Your band's having a seizure."
He looked down. The red blinked again. Once, twice, and then went still. "It's fine," he said, though his voice betrayed his uncertainty.
*Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep,...*
From the corner of the hall, an instructor's gaze snapped toward him. The man's visor caught the glow of red across the room as Bale's beep cut through his ears.
"Maintain synchronization!" the instructor barked, brows furrowed. He didn't seem to like what he was seeing.
The lights intensified as the beeping grew louder. It was like standing in a sea of electric currents, every thought and fear amplified. Bale tried to focus, to clear his head like the training modules always said. This was the only chance cadets had to sync with their bands. It was a grave offense syncing without instruction, and so Bale had to get his head straight, right here and now. But... the harder he tried, the more his thoughts spun out of control.
'God damnit.'
Suddenly, he saw flashes.
Not memories. Not dreams.
It was something else entirely.
Sort of... a spiraling field of white.
Within that white spiral field came a voice he didn't recognize, which whispered through static. And then an eye suddenly opened. Very ethereal. It was enormous, watching, its reflection shimmering in his neural band.
'What the hell!'
Scowling his face, his thoughts almost came out as his knees buckled vigorously before he caught himself.
Everyone else present in the hall locked their confused gaze on him, some feeling a mixed sense of emotion. Fear was sure to be among them.
"What's with Prophet today? Has his awkwardness skyrocketed to a different level?"
"Talk about awkwardness.. do prophets not see visions?"
"Oh?Perhaps he saw his mom's nude?"
"Keep it low, the instructors are eavesdropping"
"Tch. Unfits these days"
The hall was filled with tension and murmurs as every eyes was on Bale.
Moments later, the light on his wrist dimmed to blue again, steady and almost peaceful.
"Stabilized," the instructor called out, showing a nascent sign of relief. It was almost unnoticeable. Everyone in the hall, except the instructors... and Bale, collectively exhaled. A few cadets wiped sweat from their brows, and the air returned to its quiet hum.
It seemed that everyone knew Bale for who, perhaps what, he was already.
Just that today seemed strange.
Tora elbowed him gently. "See? You didn't explode."
"Yeah," Bale said, forcing a laugh. "Small victories."
But his eyes stayed locked on the band. The metal was cool and calm again. In fact, too calm. It shouldn't have done that. It flared red, then snapped back like nothing happened. It felt like something inside it had blinked.
...Or worse, something had blinked back.
'I'll be damned...'
As the test ended, the cadets were dismissed one row at a time. Reaching his turn, Bale lingered for a moment, watching the holographic screens flicker with data from the synchronization results. His name flashed briefly in red before fading to white.
There he saw his own familiar set of data.
"Cadet Bale – Neural Instability: 0.02%"
It was small, barely a fraction. But instability was instability, and even a whisper of it could ruin a cadet's standing. He just prayed not to have a VCI below 5. That was the worst news to hear.
'Don't think about it... at least for now.'
Now they were going to be assigned their VCI, the cumulative score index of their overall training activities ever since attaining the rank.
Tora tugged on his sleeve as they walked toward the exit. "So… you gonna tell me what that was?"
"I don't know," he said quietly. "It felt like the band wasn't just reading me. It was listening."
"Listening?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's creepy."
"Yeah," Bale said, staring at the faint reflection of red still pulsing on his wrist. "That's what worries me."
Just then, a Scout bumped intentionally into the duo, a mocking smile on his face.
Bale wanted to say something, maybe make a joke that could get a few of his teeth scattered across the metal floor.
"Just ignore them. Revenge day's pending." Tora tugged at him, pulling him away.
As they reached the corridor, a faint static hissed through the comm system. The voice of the silver-haired instructor came through, low and unreadable.
"All cadets with red flicker records, report to secondary diagnostics at 1900 hours."
Tora glanced at him. "That's you, isn't it?"
Bale didn't answer. Perhaps he did, with a hard stare.
As he passed through the corridor, the lights dimmed for a second, then flickered. It happened once, then twice before stabilizing again.
Somewhere deep in the academy, a low hum pulsed through the walls, almost like the heartbeat of something alive.
He didn't know it yet, but the band wasn't done with him.
...And whatever was listening through it had just found its signal.