Dream’s End

Penelope woke up with a sigh, looking around, realizing where she was. The faint hum of the city’s machinery buzzed in the background, like a distant hive of bees. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, her chest heavy with an ache that came each time her dreams ended. The vibrant, beautiful world was gone, replaced by the fake perfection of the City of Legance.

Well, Legance wasn’t just a city; it was a system, a vision of utopia crafted by the Council. Three leaders ruled with unwavering authority. No one ever saw them in person; only their holograms that they display all throughout the streets. Perfect, ageless, and serene holograms that appeared throughout the city on massive screens and projections. Their voices echoed in unison, carrying commands and reassurances with a not so reassuring monotone voice.

“Perfection is freedom,” they often said. “Deviation creates chaos.”

Penelope pushed the blanket aside and got up from her bed. Her room was a seamless cube of soft white light, everything was smooth and unbroken. The window’s translucent surface adjusted automatically to the city’s faux daylight, peering into the room. She moved to the corner where a mirrored panel slid open, revealing a set of identical, colorless uniforms.

The dull, gray fabric felt lifeless in her hands, but she pulled it on without hesitation. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—straight, dark hair cropped to her shoulders, tired eyes staring back at her. There was no individuality here, no space for expression.

Her parents were already in the kitchen when she entered, their movements precise and efficient. Her father, Castor, was seated at the table, his attention fixed on a transparent tablet displaying streams of data. Her mother, Alina, was plating their breakfast—nutrient bars and water infused with “optimal sustenance compounds.” Penelope hated the food there. She’d much rather the strange berries and grains back on the other world.

“Good morning, Penelope,” Alina said without looking up, her voice warm but detached.

“Morning,” Penelope mumbled, sliding into her chair.

Castor glanced at her briefly. “Your efficiency scores from yesterday were satisfactory. Try to maintain consistency. It’s best that you remain at the top of your class, given your family’s role in society.”

She nodded silently.

Her parents were just like everyone else, unbothered and happy with their lives. Castor worked as a Systems Regulator, overseeing the algorithms that governed every aspect of Legance, from food distribution to weather simulations. Alina, a Behavioral Specialist, spent her days monitoring citizens' psychological stability to ensure compliance with the leaders’ vision.

Both of them believed in the city’s perfection, in its promise of order and harmony. They felt happy there. Penelope didn’t.

After breakfast, she followed the same routine she had every day since she could remember. The city’s transport system whisked her to the Academy of Advancement, where children were trained to fulfill their roles in society. The sleek, automated capsule glided along invisible tracks, its interior silent save for the occasional hum of announcements:

“Destination: Sector Fourteen. Estimated arrival: three minutes. Please prepare accordingly.”

She stared out at the city as it sped past, viewing rows of identical buildings, whose surfaces gleamed under the artificial sun. The streets below were deprived of life; only the drones moved with purpose, delivering goods and maintaining order. People only ventured outside to fulfill their assigned duties or attend scheduled activities. Anything else was considered inefficient.

Citizens of Legance adhered to strict schedules. From sunrise to sunset, every second was accounted for. Adults worked diligently in assigned roles, from monitoring drone networks to managing energy outputs. Even leisure time was pre-programmed, offering only approved activities like meditation or “civic engagement sessions.” Changes to these schedules were rare and heavily discouraged.

At the Academy, her classmates were the embodiment of this system. Each student was prim, polished, and focused. Their faces betrayed no hint of emotion, and their conversations revolved solely around assigned topics. Creativity, spontaneity, and humor were all but extinct.

The Academy was a sprawling, immaculate structure, its walls lined with glowing panels that displayed the Triarchs’ words:

“Unity. Precision. Progress.”

Classes were structured, silent affairs, focused on maximizing intellectual output. Creativity was considered wasteful, distractions unnecessary. Penelope excelled academically, but she loathed every second of it. The sterile lessons, the emotionless faces of her peers—it all felt suffocating.

As she arrives at the academy, she isn’t given much time when entering, because breakfast is only to be had at home. So she immediately enters class. Penelope stays on top of her lessons, without having to pay much attention, she’s naturally smart. So when she is in class, she often doodles, or doses off into a daydream. A few of her classmates noticed her staring off into space.

“She’s so strange,” murmured her classmate Liora, in a mocking tone. “Always staring out the window like she’s somewhere else.”

“She doesn't even listen during our lectures,” another chimed in, smirking.

“Liora. Ezra.” The clipped voice of their Instructor, cut through the air like a blade. The group immediately fell silent, their postures stiffening. “Any form or gossip is strictly prohibited.”

Penelope exhaled slowly, relief and frustration mingling in her chest. She wasn’t bullied—bullying was too inefficient for Legance—but the sly remarks and pointed glances were enough to make her feel isolated.

Her thoughts drifted to her former classmate, Kael. He had been the only student brave enough to challenge the system. About a year ago, he stood up in the middle of class, his voice shaking but determined.

“Can’t you see it?” he’d said. “This isn’t life! There’s more out there—beyond the city, beyond this… this cage!”

The room had frozen. No one had dared to respond, not even the teacher. Within minutes, a pair of Enforcement Drones had arrived, their cold, metallic arms gripping kale by the shoulders.

He was exiled that same day.

Now, the only trace of him was the faint memory of his defiant words, whispered among students who dared to wonder if he’d been right.

It's crazy how just a few words can make everyone turn cold. That's why she hated it so much, there was no room for expansion, opinions or true beliefs. It was all artificial.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur. Penelope moved through the motions, her mind elsewhere. As she walked home, the streets seemed quieter than usual. The Council’s holograms flickered to life again, their voices ringing out across the city.

“Remember: dissent leads to disorder. Disorder leads to ruin. Be harmonious. Be perfect.”

Penelope glanced at her reflection in a nearby window. She looked just like everyone else—gray uniform, emotionless expression, and eyes that gave nothing away. But inside, she was different.

When she arrived home, she immediately lied down and closed her eyes to slip back into her prefered reality.

The place that felt more like home than anywhere else.