The air here always smells like routine meat or should I say dead body's in the lower colonies.Hard to tell anymore. Either way, it stings when you breathe too deep. Has I gave at the oddly shining star in the sky I thought how life would be in the upper colonies. But tomorrow will be the start, a start closer to a better life.
Tonight was the first time I've felt anything close to hope — or maybe I'm just afraid I think fear is the write word. Either way I'll definitely survive for my sister.
Under the moon covered with dark cloud's and the glowing red liy of a floating mechanical filtration system it looks like a drone the boy close his eyes drifting of in Thought what it seems like a second the blinding light of the sun came out it was a new day.
Has I stand at the train terminal with a single duffel bag pink and decorated by my little sister, waiting for the gates to open. Around me, I see the other recruits gather in rows, faces thin and hollow from years of breathing filtrated poisoned air. Some kids look like they've already given up. I don't have that luxury. My sister needs me to come back.
Her name DF447. Twelve years old, small even for her age, but sharper than anyone I know also cute too. The day I told her I was leaving, she hid it behind her usual bright smiling face but I could feel she wanted to cry. But People here learn early — emotions get you nowhere. Before I left, ti parted her head and told her I'll definitely come back in return she gave me a hand drawn photo of me and her she smiled and said "For luck," bro bro. when I promised I'd bring her to the colonies. I meant it.
The loudspeaker screeches overhead, breaking through the murmurs. "All first-level rat Cyber Academy candidates, proceed to Gate 02. Identification required."I pull up my sleeve, revealing the embedded mark glowing under my skin: DM446 that was my name. A man looked with disgust and took out a scanner reads it, beeps once, and the gates hiss open.he said in a low tone fucking rats bastards,gray walls close in as we walky through a decontamination tunnel. Jets of sterile mist spray across our bodies, washing off surface toxins, though the stench of the Earth never quite leaves.
When the tunnel doors open again, we're staring at a massive elevator cage. Old tech — reinforced steel, hissing hydraulics, lines of blinking lights running down its skeleton. It looks ancient, but that's the thing about the Academy: it's both relic and marvel, built from pieces of the past to defend what's left of the future.
A sweet feminine voice echoes through hidden speakers, calm but synthetic. "Welcome, Cyber Academy Recruits of Delta Year 3005."
The cage shudders and begins its descent. It moved in a seed that was unreal almost feeling like there was no gravity.The ground above disappears behind us, light fading to a dim red glow. The deeper we go, the heavier the air feels. When the elevator finally stops, the sight stole my breath.
The Academy isn't just a structure — it's a city beneath a corpse. Endless towers of golden glass and steel spiral inward, glowing with blue lights of energy. Floating drones roam the air it was like the filtration drones in the surface, and conveyor bridges connect one observation deck to another in dizzying arcs. Yet, despite the technology, there's an unease to it all — the kind that makes you feel watched, even when no one's there.
A man in a black uniform steps forward his build was something else he looked like a giant but that wasn't what mad him stand it was something else his Burns on his entire face. Her badge reads COMMANDER ZACK-13. His eyes have that faint gray tint of cybernetic enhancement. "Welcome to the Cyber Academy," he says, voice clipped. "Your training mission begins in 720 minutes. Follow the markings on the floor you will be assessed and depending on your data you'll be assigned sectors fitting for you. There will be no second chances down here. Those who fail… will die."
I grip my duffel tighter and follow the others down a corridor lit by wight pulse lights embedded in the floor scand me and My assigned sector shows on the hologram in my wrist: Sector D-99: combat system. The dorm room was gray with double bunks, surveillance eyes in every corner. My roommate's already there when I arrive, lying on his back with headphones on he looks calm wight lazy hair that covers his eyes and the candy stick in his mouth.
Name!!! He said
I didn't thought he knew I was in the room maybe he wasn't listening to anything?
DM445 I said calmly
Slices filled the air when I said my code.
" I see.
he said without say anything else.
The way he said it I knew he wasn't like me his a Colony-born boys, wealth, and implants that the Earth-born can only dream of. out of the silence he spoke
"You don't talk much, huh?"
" same goes for you," I say.
".. I see." He smiled, but there's no real humor behind it.
Time after 720 minutes
The next day which was Training mission. Before we where assigned a mission Physical endurance, weapon compatibility, cybernetic uplink synchronization was made. Thirty recruits already dropped out all from the lower colonies.The instructors push us past human limitsbi felt like I would die while holding the cybernetic gun. Also One drill forces us into full neural link with an AI combat system. It simulates fights against the infected. They don't warn you about the pain when your neural sync fails—your brain feels like it's being ripped apart by static.
Every failure is logged. Every movement recorded. Somehow, I keep up. Maybe because I've been fighting to survive since the day I could walk.
Commander ZACK calls a full assembly after the practice. Thousands of recruits stand in formation in the main hall — a vast cavern lit by shimmering holograms projecting the Academy insignia: a broken Earth encircled by two perfect rings.
He steps onto the platform, his gray eyes sweeping over us. "you training mission will binging you will be deployed to the surface," he says. "Your mission: defeat a cybernetic monster and bring it's core The area virus concentrations there are among the highest recorded. Survive, and your team will earn accelerated ranking. Failure's your choices.
A murmur spreads through the ranks. "Glass Crater." No one's gone there in centuries.
Zack raises a hand. "Remember: humanity didn't lose the world. We threw it away. But Cyber Academy will take it back."
A guy came up too me and said you are 446 right He smiled softly. "Names doman and we are assigned in the same team let's go meet the rest
He studies me for a moment longer, then nods. Maybe respect. Maybe pity. Hard to tell.
The Time has come for deployment, we're given neural interface injections — tiny chips slipped behind the ear to connect us directly to the Academy's network. I feel it fuse with my nerves, humming like a ghost in my skull. A sterile female voice whispers in my head: *"Unit DM446, synchronization stable. Cognitive response—optimal."
When the transport platform rises to the surface the next cycle, the sky looks bruised — purple haze over black earth. The masks we wear hum with filtered air and radiation seals, but even through the visor I can smell the rot of the world. Crumbling towers, cities turned to glass by warfire, endless silence broken only by the wind. Our team descends into the ruins, scanners active. The location of the old NASA archive shows on our maps, buried beneath layers of debris.
Halfway there, static crackles in our comms. Then the sound — wet, guttural, piercing. Movement.
The infected.