Caleb's Spark

Geneva Research Complex, World Council Administrative District //  Geneva, Switzerland

5 Years Ago

~~~

“Nervous?” My fellow researcher, Thomas, asked me.

I stopped pacing and looked up from the polished marble floor.

“That obvious?” I adjusted the tie on my cheap suit, loosening the noose around my neck. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't.”

My hands were shaking, a side effect of countless sleepless nights in the laboratory, marked withcuts, callouses, and bruises. The titanium case felt heavy in my hand.

Thomas gave me a reassuring smile. “Just the fact that they scheduled a panel for you means they believe what you have is revolutionary.”

He was right. I took a deep breath and shook out my limbs. Now or never.

“Good luck.” Thomas opened the heavy oak door for me. The centuries-old hinges groaned as he pulled on the ornate handle.

The evaluation chamber was a perfect semicircle. Five figures sat behind a curved mahogany desk, the World Council's symbol shining in gold on the wall behind them. All were top senior researchers in their finest formal wear, each with world-changing innovations behind their belts: plasma thrusters. holographic projections, microchips, autonomous vehicles.

Except one. I hadn't expected the figure sitting in the middle, unmistakable in his white robes. Despite not being a researcher, his face was more notorious than all the others combined.

Councilor Five.

A World Councilor on the inquiry panel. As if the pressure wasn't high enough already.

“Mr. Caleb Ferris, you may proceed.”

The words flipped a switch in me. All nervousness immediately left my body. I was focused, ready to present.

If I did this right, I would be one step closer to sitting on that panel someday.

I stepped up to the table in the center of the room and set the case atop it. My hands were steady as I opened the latches. Years of preparation had led to this moment.

“I present a new type of projectile weapon.” I assembled the two halves of the prototype together: a long steel tube mounted on a hand-carved wooden body. I propped up the finished device on a stand.

“Self-propelling. No bowstring required. The chemical propellant compressed alongside the projectile alone.” I stuck a paper target on the opposite end of the chamber.

“The charge.” I took out a small packet of powder, raising it high to show the panel before packing it into the tube.

“The payload.” My custom-designed projectile, a rounded lead cylinder with a pointed tip, slid inside with the press of my thumb.

“The spark.” I brought out a small square battery. I hovered the terminals over two exposed metal contacts in the wooden body.

“Esteemed panel, I present to you, what I call the 'firearm.'"

I pressed the battery to the contacts.

A sharp crack ripped through the chamber as the projectile struck dead center of the paper target.

Perfect.

“This weapon is so easy to use, it’s almost like an extension of your body. Even your weakest soldier can kill from afar. The World Council can ensure peace with fewer troops: A few hundred soldiers possessing the power of ten thousand. No dissident would ever dare to instigate rebellion with the mere threat of this weapon.”

I turned to the panel, expecting awe, recognition, or standing ovation. Instead, I saw only cold disdain, disgust.

“Mr. Ferris,” one of the researchers spoke, “I thought you were here to present new composite materials for body armor.”

“I realized that improvements to defense is no longer enough. The Council requires an offensive measure.” I gesture grandly at my invention. “This weapon renders armor completely obsolete.”

“A neat party trick, but this is no better than an arrow.” Another evaluator scoffed. I noticed the hilt of his ceremonial sword gleaming at his hip. “Fighting your enemy eye-to-eye is honorable. Killing from afar is...barbaric.”

“But this is Geneva Research. I thought we were here to revolutionize the world with our inventions. This is a revolution, right in front of us!”

Councilor Five raised a hand, silencing everyone without a word. All eyes snapped towards him.

“I believe we’ve heard enough.” His voice cut through my desperate plea.

“Esteemed Councilor, with all due respect,” I insisted, “Projectile weapons are the future. The end of blades in combat is imminent—”

The panel gasped as if I had uttered blasphemy. It seemed I had.

The rest seemed like a blur. I was quickly ushered out of the chamber. The heavy oak door closed behind me with an ominous thud.

I didn't understand it then. How could they be so blind? How could they not see the future in front of them?

Thomas, who was leaning against the marble wall waiting for me, didn’t even need say a word. My defeated face explained everything.

After storing my failed demo in my lab, I exited the Complex head hung low and my hands deep in my pockets.

“Caleb!”

It was my younger sister, Abby, waving at me with a bright smile. She stood in the lobby, wearing a travel bag slung over her shoulder and the visitor’s badge clipped to her jacket. “How did it go?”

My heart lifted at the sight of my younger sister, my only family. I had worked countless hours to put her through university.

I forced a smile, trying to shed my disappointment. “Great,” I lied. “Have you done any sightseeing yet?”

“I didn’t know where to start, so I came straight here to see you.”

“Well, you came to the right tour guide.” I chuckled and took her hand.

We spent the rest of the day lost in the historic streets of Place du Bourg-de-Four. I showed her around the magnificent architecture of Saint Pierre Cathedral, but she seemed more interested in the menus plastered outside the cafes. I didn’t mind. Just being with her was enough to forget my disastrous presentation.

At some point, I instinctively checked the concealed dagger inside my jacket. Abby saw the blade and laughed at me.

“What do you have that for?” she asked in between eating scoops of gelato.

“Just in case.”

“This is Geneva.” she replied with a mocking tone. “What could possibly go wrong here?”

She was right. At almost every block, Council Guards were posted with their polearms. It was the safest part of the city. What could possibly go wrong?

That night brought the answer.

As we walked back to her hotel, we found ourselves caught in the middle of an illegal demonstration. Protesters flooded the streets, their numbers the largest in years. Their signs and shouts demanded the end of the Council’s reign, an end to oppression.

Council Guards intervened, attempting to quell the situation. They warned the crowd to disperse immediately or be treated as dissidents.

The situation quickly escalated. Opportunists arrived, armed with a crude mix of weapons: swords, maces, axes, torches, anything they could get their hands on. They began tearing the street, looting stores. Setting vehicles on fire.

The Guards responded using lethal force, attacking indiscriminately. Blades clashed, and anyone caught in the stampeding crowds, armed or unarmed, was slain.

I dragged Abby into the back streets, trying to steer us away from the chaos.

“Hey! He works for the Council!” a voice echoed off the stone walls.

A mob, their faces blind with rage, quickly surrounded us. I drew my dagger, doing my best to defend us, but I was no fighter.

I was quickly overwhelmed, brutally beaten down. I thought I was going to die.

“Caleb! Caleb!” I heard Abby crying as rough hands grabbed her.

Then, the Guards came, engaging the mob. I thought they would save us, but as they advanced, they swung and stabbed with their polearms, uncaring who they hit.

The next thing I saw was my sister lying on the cobblestone street, blood running from a stab wound in her chest, face frozen in agony.

My sister was slain by the very authority that was supposed to protect us.

My voice was hoarse from all the screaming I did. I held her body until dawn, numb to my own injuries, her blood soaking into my torn suit. The last of my family, gone, stolen away in an instant.

I couldn't even cry. What right did I have? I failed her. Failed to be strong enough to save her.

The next morning, I found out myself locked out of the Research Complex. My ID wouldn’t scan at the gate. At first, I thought it was some kind of mistake.

But my office was cleared, research wiped clean. My phone was disconnected. Colleagues refused answer me. There wasn't even a digital record of my existence.

The Council hadn't just rejected my work—they had erased it. Erased me. No explanation. No trial.

This was worse than being labeled a dissident.

With no valid identity, I couldn’t access any services. I couldn't show my face in public without being whisked away by Enforcement. I went into hiding, finding allies in the remnants of the Anti-Council movement.

Ironic, finding shelter with the same dissidents who had once beaten me senseless. But now, we shared a common enemy.

After years of careful planning, of building Accel Order piece by piece, I can finally achieve my goal of changing the world.

I should thank you for that, Mika. My old friend. Do you remember our late-night talks about reactive elements? You were the only one who ever truly understood me back then. You deserved a place in the Research Complex as much as I did.

I wish I had told you how I felt before everything changed. How much you meant to me, before we became enemies.

But Accel Order is bigger than just me now. Bigger than the Council. Bigger than Abby. And if you stand in my way, Mika... I'll cut you down. No matter our past.

~~~