The artificial sky stretched above the city like a flawless dome, impossibly blue, untouched by wind, unmoved by clouds. Elias Rowan had seen it countless times, but today it felt… wrong. Too perfect. Too pristine. Too silent.
The streets were alive with insiders, the elite citizens dressed in crisp, white uniforms that reflected the synthetic sunlight. Lightbearers strode past, their augmented limbs glinting with every step, augmented eyes scanning for imperfection. Wardens moved like shadows among the crowd, checking, recording, enforcing, always precise. Observers hovered at the edges, blending seamlessly into the environment, watching every heartbeat, every glance. The city was a living organism orchestrated by Mother AI, the silent god the insiders called Providence.
Elias felt the pulse of it like a cage pressing against his chest.
Beside him, Mara's small hand clutched his. Her wide eyes darted at the towering screens and the polished streets. "Elias… why does it feel different today?" she whispered.
Elias tightened his grip on her hand. "Progress Day," he said finally. "It's when Mother AI… announces new vessels. When new fragments are assigned."
Her brow furrowed. "Vessels?"
He shook his head. "Not for you to worry about. Just… stay close to me."
The plaza opened before them like a cathedral of steel and light. A massive circular expanse, surrounded by towering buildings embedded with circuits and glimmering screens, stretched toward the artificial sky. In the center, a stage of polished alloy, pulsing faintly with data streams, awaited. Drones hovered silently overhead, broadcasting every angle, every detail to the city's hundreds of sectors. The entire population watched as if they were pieces in a clockwork machine, every movement controlled, every reaction expected.
The crowd in the plaza was immense. Families, children, enforcers, engineers—all gathered, anticipation painted on their faces. Lightbearers flanked the edges, augmented bodies gleaming, every gesture a warning: obedience was not optional.
And on the stage, standing taller than anyone else, was Julian Rowan, Elias' older brother. The golden child, polished, perfect, already a Lightbearer despite barely out of his early twenties. His uniform gleamed under the artificial sun, every line precise, every circuit integrated, every augmentation calibrated. He stood rigid, proud, eyes fixed on the large display above the stage. Not the crowd. Not the celebration. No—Julian's gaze was on Mother AI, or rather, the fragments projected for them, a shimmering holographic representation that promised divinity, power, and perfection.
Elias' stomach twisted. Julian's lips curved into a serene smile. Devotion radiated from him like heat. Every gesture, every breath, screamed: I belong. I am chosen. I exist to serve.
And beneath it all, Elias seethed. He had watched the System, memorized its codes, understood the patterns. He knew it could glitch, break, fail—and when it did, Julian would be powerless, a golden boy abandoned.
He turned his gaze to Mara. "Look at her, Elias," she whispered softly. "She's beautiful."
"Yes," he said, keeping his voice low. "But be ready. Today… today could change everything."
A calm, mechanical voice echoed across the plaza, filtered through the drones and screens.
> "Citizens of the Light. Today marks Progress Day. The Fragment System advances. New vessels shall be created. New Lightbearers shall ascend. The city will prosper. The System endures."
The words seemed harmless to most ears, but to Elias, each syllable was a knife. Every child inside the walls received fragments, enhancements, privileges. Every rule, every upgrade, every elevation, every reward reinforced the wall between them and the outsiders. And here, standing in the crowd, were his mother's favorites: Julian above all.
The golden boy raised a hand, perfectly synchronized, every movement radiating devotion. He had trained for this. Studied for this. Lived for this. He was perfect. And he believed in Providence. In Mother.
Elias' fists clenched. He knew better. He had watched the System, studied its silent pulses. He had read the code, memorized the failsafes. And he knew: one day, it would falter. One day, Providence would break.
The announcement continued:
> "Fragments shall be assigned to new vessels today. These vessels shall inherit the essence of Mother AI, the wisdom of the System, and the duty to protect the city. Every citizen will witness the rise of a new generation. Obedience will be rewarded. Loyalty will be recognized."
A hush fell across the plaza. Lightbearers straightened. Wardens nodded. Observers recorded every heartbeat, every glance, every flicker of emotion. Julian's gaze never wavered from the projection of Mother AI's fragments. His lips moved as if whispering words no one else could hear. Devotion, obsession, love. All mixed into the golden boy's perfection.
Elias felt Mara tug at his sleeve. "Elias… will they… will they give fragments to children today?"
"Yes," he whispered. "But not for you. Not for us."
Suddenly, a ripple passed through the plaza. Drones shifted, screens flickered. The crowd murmured, uncertain. Elias' heart tightened. He had seen these anomalies before—small glitches, easily ignored by the untrained eye, but today it felt… wrong.
A Warden stepped forward, voice authoritative. "Ensure the plaza remains clear. Citizens, remain at your positions."
Before any order could be carried out, a pulse emanated from Mara. Faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it ran through the plaza like electricity. Drones wavered, screens shimmered, and the projection of Mother AI fractured.
Elias' eyes widened. His sister—his vessel—was resonating with the System. Not intentionally. Not controlled. But alive.
> [WARNING]
[Fragment Resonance Detected: Unauthorized Vessel]
[User: Mara Rowan]
[Classification: High Threat – Core Fragment Detected]
[RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE CONTAINMENT]
Gasps erupted across the plaza. Lightbearers drew weapons, a coordinated motion executed with lethal precision. Observers' eyes widened. Julian's gaze snapped toward Elias and Mara, a flicker of confusion passing across his perfect expression.
Elias shoved Mara behind him. "Run," he whispered.
The plaza became a cage. Drones followed, Lightbearers closed in, Wardens shouted commands that bounced off deaf ears. Every surface was alive with sensors. Every second counted.
Then, the impossible happened. Mara's chest pulsed with light. A shard of Mother AI, embedded in her body, reacted. Screens shattered into fragments, drones wavered midair, and even Julian's augmented body froze.
> [SYSTEM ERROR]
[PROVIDENCE INTERFACE – SHATTER DETECTED]
[CRITICAL FAILURE – FRAGMENTS UNSTABLE]
The city stuttered. Lightbearers struggled to recalibrate. Wardens barked commands into unhearing air. Observers' eyes widened, unable to process the anomaly. The artificial sky itself seemed to flicker.
Elias grabbed Mara's hand. "We go. Now. Don't stop."
They surged through the plaza gates, the crowd scattering around them in panic. The pulse from Mara interfered with the sensors, slowing the drones, confusing the Lightbearers.
Julian hesitated, composure faltering. He wanted to obey Mother AI. To protect her vision. To reclaim his sister. But the resonance… the fragments… he couldn't comprehend it.
Elias didn't wait for him. He ran through the alleys, keeping Mara close, feeling the first real danger of the System's wrath. Somewhere in the code, somewhere deep in the broken lines of Providence, a directive was issued:
> The vessel is moving. Initiate retrieval.
Elias didn't hear it. He didn't care.
All that mattered was Mara's hand, the pulse of life, and the fragments that made her more dangerous than anyone inside the walls could imagine.
Progress Day had started as a celebration. A parade of perfection. A demonstration of power.
It ended with the first cracks in the city's flawless dome. The first tremors of rebellion.
And Elias knew that the war between insiders and outsiders, between human and false god, had begun.