Family dinner

Karl disembarked from the train into the chaotic underground station near Block-17. The station's cacophony enveloped him: overlapping voices, the hiss of pneumatic brakes, and the occasional static-laden announcement echoing from battered speakers. Neon advertisements flickered, their garish hues casting transient colours across the glossy tile floors. Vending machines whirred nearby, their holographic mascots enticing passersby’s to try their dubious offerings. Karl barely registered it all as he experiences this every single day not to mention that his mind was already halfway home.

Emerging from the station, the imposing structure of Block-17 loomed before him. The building sprawled upward in a tangled mess of steel and glass. Its tiers interconnected by sky bridges glowing with pulsating LED lights. Small kiosks and street vendors clustered near the base, peddling tech contraptions and questionable snacks, while higher levels housed everything from cramped residential units to sleazy entertainment dens. The scent of damp concrete, sizzling street food, and faint ozone from the ever-present electronics filled the air. Karl entered the building, stepping into a labyrinth like corridor lined with graffiti and faintly flickering lights.

He arrived at his apartment on the 47th floor and unlocked the door with a biometric scan. The dim lighting of his home greeted him, and the gentle hum of the centralized AI system broke the silence. Avalon, the house’s AI assistant, chimed softly.

"Welcome home, Karl."

The sterile warmth of Avalon’s voice only served to emphasize the emptiness of the space.

"Hey, Avalon," he muttered, dropping his bag by the door.

The apartment, with its stark, utilitarian design, reflected the soul of the megacomplex itself: cold, efficient, and utterly impersonal.

His routine unfolded mechanically. Tidying up the cluttered living room, sorting dishes left over from breakfast, and resetting the recycling chute felt as automatic as Avalon’s pre-programmed responses. He switched on the news as he began preparing dinner. The large wall screen came alive, displaying an anchor whose tone was as polished and synthetic as her augmented features.

"In breaking news, the Global Treaty Organization has issued fresh sanctions against the Soviet Union, citing concerns over military aggression... “

Karl chopped vegetables as the anchor continued, her voice blending with the rhythmic chopping of his knife.

“Meanwhile, the third Soviet-Chinese research group has successfully landed at the Red Horizon settlement, marking a historic expansion of humanity's presence on Mars."

The news provided a strange contrast to the mundanity of his actions. Karl smirked to himself, scooping ingredients into a pan. The grandiose achievements of humanity’s expansion into space felt like a hollow victory when he could barely connect with the people closest to him. In the solitude of his kitchen, the thought came unbidden.

“I might as well live alone at this point.”

The faint hiss of the front door broke his thoughts. His mother, Elena, walked in. Her military-grade boots clicking against the floor. She set her bag down with a tired sigh, her olive-green uniform crisp despite the long day.

"Hey, sweetie," she greeted, her voice edged with fatigue.

"Dinner smells really good."

"Thanks." Karl replied, glancing at her. "Long day huh?"

"You could say that." She rubbed her neck and leaned against the counter.

"We’ve got orders to procure training equipment, at quantities no sane person would approve and half of it’s overpriced junk. Logistics is supposed to make things easier, not pile on the impossible."

Karl chuckled softly, plating their food. "Sounds like a blast."

She smiled faintly, the weariness in her eyes softening for a moment. They sat at the table, chatting idly until the door clicked open again. His father, Ferdinand, stepped inside. A historian by trade and a part-time investigative journalist, Ferdinand’s dual roles seemed to weigh on him equally. His suit jacket was slightly rumpled, his tie loose as though he’d wrestled it into submission.

"Sorry I’m late," Ferdinand said, placing his bag down with a thud. His gaze flicked to the table. "Cold dinner again?"

Karl smiled. "Well, at this point you are asking for it. I think we should buy an instant freezer so if by any chance you arrive on time we can serve you cold food."

Ferdinand laughed. ”I will work extra hard to get that instant freezer.”

They settled into dinner, the conversation ebbing and flowing as they updated each other on their days. Ferdinand hinted at a major breakthrough in his investigations but remained tight-lipped about the specifics.

"Let’s just say, we will have an instant freezer sooner than later."

Elena vented more about the absurdity of military procurement, her tone exasperated but tinged with dry humour.

The monotony of the evening was shattered by the chime of the doorbell and the familiar voice of the landlord.

“Hello, it’s me. I’m here because we received a report about a potential plumbing issue that might be affecting your unit, and I’d like to check it as soon as possible. Could you please open the door so we can discuss it? If this isn’t a good time, let me know, and we can arrange another time.”

"I’m on my way" Ferdinand said, pushing back his chair. He approached the door.

A sharp hiss of suppressed gunfire rang out.

Time seemed to slow as Karl and Elena froze. The metallic crash of Victor's body hitting the floor was followed by the cold efficiency of boots stepping inside. Two men in dark suits entered the apartment. Their faces were emotionless, their movements precise. The insignia of the KGB was visible on their lapels.

Elena barely had time to stand before a second shot ended her movement, her lifeless form collapsing in a heap.

Karl’s heart raced as he scrambled back, his mind too numb to process what was happening. One of the agents turned toward him, a tranquilizer gun raised.

A sharp sting hit his neck, and the world began to blur. His legs gave out, and he slumped to the floor, the edges of his vision darkening. The muffled sound of the agents speaking was the last thing he heard.

"Targets are terminated."

And then, silence.