Dreamers

~~~

“I got in! Mika, I got in!”

You were holding that gold-embossed acceptance letter in your hand, vibrating with excitement.

I couldn’t believe it. Or rather, I could, but I didn’t want to believe it. I snatched the letter from your hands, not believing it was real. But there was no doubt: the Geneva Research Complex's prestigious letterhead embossed at the top, alongside “Caleb Ferris” clearly printed in bold.

I didn’t even need to read the rest of it.

“That's... great, Caleb!” I managed to feign enthusiasm for you. The only time I would ever show such a thing. I didn’t want to dampen your moment. Not when you looked so alive.

It was both our dreams to work at the Geneva Research Complex. The pinnacle of human innovation, where brilliant minds from every territory are hand-selected to push the boundaries of science. Where innovations like supersonic flight, microchips, and artificial neural networks first sparked to life.

It was a playground for scientists. The only place where we could innovate our way into a better future.

We studied together day and night for the entrance exams. The weeks, months we spent in the library were some of the toughest, and oddly, favorite moments with you. While I struggled to keep my eyes open, you, on the other hand, seemed to barely sleep. Between textbook chapters, you'd pull out your notebooks, sketching yet another blueprint for your next experiment. Your mind seemed to be always ticking with ideas. And when you explained them with your infectious enthusiasm, it was impossible not to get caught up in your excitement as well.

You were unusual that way. Brilliant, yes, more than everyone else in the class. I could intellectually spar with you, but I was only regurgitating the textbooks. You, however, were always thinking outside the box, making connections nobody else could imagine. Like that time you brought your favorite invention to class: a little combustible pouch that would pop and spark when thrown. “It’s harmless!”, you’d insist, before terrorizing half the student body with your pranks.

On our last day together, we were celebrating your acceptance. I half-jokingly said I was worried you would forget about me. “We'll stay in touch, I promise!” But as soon as you moved away, our messages got shorter. Days between responses stretched into weeks. Until you stopped answering altogether.

Every night for a week, I cursed you. wished that something bad happened to you. I even wished you were dead. For getting in without me. For leaving me behind. It was stupid, I know. I’m not that kind of spiteful person now, but I was furious at the time.

Curses must be real, because I got what I wished for.

I was mortified when I saw the news report about the Geneva riots. The illegal protests that turned violent. Shops looted. The city torched. Lethal force authorized. Thousands injured. Hundreds dead.

I tried to contact you, but your phone was disconnected, your Social accounts erased. I had no way of contacting you, nor any way of proving your existence. I had no choice but to assume that you perished.

Perhaps that’s why I joined Enforcement. As punishment for my theoretical sin. Maybe that’s why I worked tirelessly to clean the streets of the Nishinari Ward. I would have never guessed that while I was writing citations and chasing petty thieves, you were leading a faction of dissidents.

That revelation broke something in me. I don't know what darkness pulled you down this path, what transformed that bright-eyed dreamer into... this.

I placed this curse on you. Now I have to find a way to break it.

~~~

Mika’s heart races. She never thought she would see him again. The years had changed Caleb—his bright-eyed, boyish features now worn over with cynicism and internal pain. But there is no mistaking who is standing before her.

“Caleb,” she breathes. “After all these years...”

“Mika.” His voice is softer than she expected. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. As you can see… I’ve been a bit busy.”

“I thought you died. When I heard about the riots…”

“In a way, I did. The Council has done a good job of erasing my identity.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because I created something they couldn't control.” His expression turns sullen. “Perhaps I had flown too close to the sun.”

“What did you do?”

“You mean, what did I make.” He produces an updated version of the assassination weapon from his coat. Sleeker, parts more integrated, lacking protruding circuits. “The latest version. Bringing death from afar. Pretty cool, right?”

“The Councilor.” The pieces click into place in her mind. “That was you?”

“I promised to change the world with my inventions,” he says quietly. “This is how.”

“How is this making the world any better? What's your grand plan? Assassinate the Council one by one and take power for yourself?”

He laughs, but there is no humor in it. “I don't want power. I want to give it to the people. The power to defend themselves. To fight tyranny. To control their own destiny.”

“You'll put millions of lives at risk.”

“By giving power back to the people?” He steps closer. “Is that what frightens you?”

“It's reckless. Putting that kind of destructive force in everyone's hands… Does your sister know what you have become? What would she think of you now?”

Caleb goes rigid, looking furious. “Don't bring Abby into this. Let her rest in peace.”

“…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. It was my fault. I was too weak to protect her. But this...” He examines the sides of the weapon with admiration. “This could have saved her. With this, anyone can fight back. If only I had it then...”

“Not everyone can be a formidable fighter, Caleb. I trained for years on my katana.”

“So I should just die then, right? Because I didn't train?”

“That's not what I meant.”

“That's exactly what you meant!” He circles the bed. “In this world, only the strong survive—those who have the strength to wield a blade. But what about the weak? Don't they deserve a chance to defend themselves?”

“The strong protect the weak.”

“Then where were they when my sister was killed? Where were they when society broke down?”

“That's why I joined Enforcement,” Mika pressed. “To prevent those tragedies.”

“Enforcement is corrupt to its core. You know that firsthand, don't you? How long have you served them? How far have you risen? They keep you down when you shine too bright.”

Her face falls. He was right.

“They took everything from me, Mika. My research. My identity. My only family.” His eyes blazed. “All because the Council was too blind to see what's coming. But now they know. Now the world knows their precious way of life is about to change. The elites are trembling in their ivory towers because they are no longer immortal.”

He drops to one knee. “Join me, Mika. Together we can change the world order. Create the tools of power for the people.”

Behind them, Locke tenses her jaw, becoming furious.

Mika closes her eyes, looking away from Caleb with a pained expression. “I can't.”

"Why not?"

She reopens them and meets his gaze. “Because Caleb died in Geneva.”

The pleading expression vanished from his face, replaced by something darker. “Perhaps you're right.”

Icarus steps back. “I thought you understood me.”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“Is that how it's going to be? Then you just made my decision a lot easier.” He heads towards the doorway.

“Whatever you're planning,” she says, “you should kill me now...”

Caleb muttered under his breath. “I could never do that to you.”

“...They'll find me. They'll stop you.”

He resumes his menacing grin. “Oh, they'll find you. That's exactly what I want.” Icarus pauses at the doorway and glances back at her one last time. “Goodbye, Mika.”

“You're using me as bait? You—”

Before she can finish, Locke slips a black bag over her head.