Light My Way

“Out with the new, in with the old? This week, Vintage Cycle X brought hover-converted retro bikes roaring to the Airstream Strip above Los Angeles, giving nostalgia a high-tech twist. But the true spectacle last night wasn’t in the air—it was at the Westchester Amphitheater.”

“Astra and Maya's debut tour kicked off in stunning fashion, combining holograms, jaw-dropping visuals, and the kind of stage presence that turns a show into a phenomenon. The amphitheater itself seemed alive, its panels pulsing in sync with every note.”

“The highlight? A dazzling reimagining of Resonance! and Maya’s Finest Work Yet, with the stage transforming into a glowing savannah under a holographic sunset. Maya’s fiery performance and the entire team’s chemistry electrified the 50,000-strong crowd.”

“Fans weren’t the only ones watching—Net streams drew hundreds of millions galaxy-wide. And now, Astra and her crew are heading east, leaving Los Angeles still buzzing.”

“Swear to God I heard them from the top floor of my condo complex, too, Alex.”

“Yea, I don’t imagine Westchester residents got many winks of sleep last night.”

“And if you are interested to see what the fuss is about, the Net always has a front-row seat. Otherwise, get going to your nearest hovercar, because Maya and crew are off to the Big Apple! Up next: bioengineered glowfruit—is your grocery bag about to get a lot brighter? Stay tuned.”

HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!

The lake in upstate New York didn’t feel real. Not with the lanterns.

Lena stood at the edge of the dock, her boots planted just behind the warped wooden line where water met land. She held her lantern, the flicker of its flame casting faint shadows across her face. Shadows that softened her features, even as she wore an expression of hollow detachment.

Getting the makeup off this quickly was no problem at all, especially with a robot butler around her at all times. 

The girls got here within the hour, having done photoshoots and meet-n-greets with the fans. Fortunately, the fans were more agreeable than the assholes with mics. 

Somehow, the scene didn’t sit right for her still, beyond the fact they were assholes. It was as if they were trying really hard to be assholes. Not the common breed of them, by any stretch.

But at least, she has this to look over now. 

Hundreds of lanterns floated on the surface like fragile suns, their flames held aloft by meticulously folded paper. They drifted across the water in deliberate slowness, their reflections shimmering as though the sky had cracked open and spilled stars into the world.

Each lantern was a prayer, a whisper, a memory made light. That was what the Net said, anyway.

That was the point of that one Thai festival she was forgetting the name of where lanterns drifted like paper wishes across the water. With a thought, Lena mentally unshackled the software in her head, the name rising to the surface like a bubble breaking water.

Ah yes. Loy Krathong.

She remembered the day her parents installed the microchip, how she’d stood in the sterile clinic, small but defiant, insisting, “I won’t let them into my head.” She’d been so sure, so rational. They’d laughed, saying, “It doesn’t work like that.”

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe the Great AIs really did keep the systems in check—holding back governments, corporations, all those hungry fingers reaching for too much power.

But still, Lena thought, it felt like a leash. And a little bit of a privacy breach. So far, however, they hadn't cared. 

Even now, when she loosened its hold, she could sense it—quiet, mechanical, always waiting. She wasn't sure if it wasn't the schizo in her acting up again. 

She rubbed the back of her neck, the phantom weight of it settling there, and watched the lanterns drift. Letting go. That’s what they called it.

She wished she believed in it.

Lena stood at the shoreline, breath misting in the cool night air, her face awash in flickering light. The crowd around her was hushed. Families. Couples. A group of kids with hair dyed silver and pink, playing with holo-cameras, trying to capture the glow. Somewhere nearby, faint music—gentle strings and soft synths—rose and fell as if coaxing the lanterns forward.

“Lena.”

Caden’s voice. Low and steady, like his presence—imposing, inevitable. 

She didn’t need to look at him to know he was there, standing at her shoulder, watching her with that quiet intensity of his.

“It’s beautiful,” Astra murmured.

“It is,” Caden replied.

Lena didn’t turn her head to look at him—she didn’t need to. She could feel Caden beside her, his presence a constant hum, just close enough to blur the line between machine and companion. He stood taller than everyone else, broad and immovable, the soft glow of the lanterns catching faintly against his matte-black plating.

“They say if you light a lantern and let it drift far enough, it carries a wish,” Lena said, holding the candle in her hand. The small flame swayed, an ember in her palm. “It’s silly.”

“I don’t think it is.”

She glanced at him, startled by how quietly he said it. “You? The rational one? Romanticizing lanterns?”

Caden’s gaze was fixed on the water. “Wishes are just intentions—projected out into the world. Whether or not they come true isn’t the point. Sometimes… the act of letting something go is enough.”

The flicker in his voice hit her somewhere deep in the chest.

She shook her head softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “I swear, you’ve gotten more poetic.”

“I’ve had practice,” he said, finally meeting her eyes.

The faint glow of the lanterns danced over his black-plated body, etching out his outline with strange reverence. He was a machine, she reminded herself. An impossible machine that should’ve looked out of place here among wood and water and flame. But he didn’t. Somehow, he belonged. Perhaps more than she did.

“You haven’t lit yours,” Lena said, gesturing to the small lantern in his hand. Its tiny candle had yet to be kindled, its paper sides pristine. “Second thoughts?”

“I don’t think I have anything to wish for.”

“Nothing at all?”

He tilted his head slightly, those unreadable eyes—human in shape, inhuman in clarity—settling on her. “Would it matter if I did?”

“Of course it would.”

“And what about you?” he asked softly. “What did you wish for?”

Lena exhaled slowly, the air catching like silk in her throat. She crossed her arms over her chest, her voice turning brittle. “I didn’t make one.”

“Why not?”

“Because wishes are for people who still think they’ll come true.”

Caden was silent. Then, after a moment: “That’s a very cynical answer.”

“It’s a realistic one.”

“Do you want to try that again?”

“I don’t.”

Lena turned back to the lake. Another lantern had caught fire, its flame too close to the paper edges, and she watched as it sputtered and sank into the dark water, leaving only faint trails of smoke in its wake.

“Lena.”

She glanced up, surprised to find Caden closer now. Not too close—he never crossed that line. He was holding out the small, unlit lantern, his fingers steady, patient.

“What?” she said.

“Light this one. It’ll make you feel better.”

She almost laughed. Almost. "I'm good, Caden. Really."

Lena swallowed. She hated how quiet the night was, how the lanterns made it feel like they were the only two people in the world. How, for a moment, she believed that might be true.

She reached out to take the lantern, her fingers brushing against his. She felt the faint hum of energy beneath the plating, the impossibility of him condensed into the weight of his hands.

She turned toward the dock again, her feet shifting over uneven wood. And then, her heel caught.

She gasped as her balance faltered. For a moment—just a breath—it felt like the water was rushing up to meet her. But then Caden’s hands were on her waist, steady and certain. He lifted her with a care that bordered on reverence, setting her down as though she might fracture in his grip.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low.

Lena stared at him, suddenly aware of the closeness between them—the way his hands lingered a beat longer than necessary. The lantern light was reflected in the matte-black contours of his frame, as though he were absorbing their glow.

“You’re overreacting,” she said finally, though the words didn’t hold much bite. “I wasn’t going to fall.”

“You were falling.”

“And you’re the expert now?”

“I’m a fast learner.”

She stepped back, straightening, her face flushed. She looked down at the small lantern still in her grip, the flame at last flickering to life.

“What did you wish for?” Caden asked again.

Lena’s fingers tightened around the base of the lantern.

She set the lantern down and watched it drift—watched the flame, impossibly small and yet so alive, be carried out into the great dark.

Caden stood beside her, and though neither of them said anything more, she could feel him watching her. Quietly. Intently. Like he saw something she wasn’t sure she wanted to share.

And maybe he did.