The First Bloom

The safehouse hummed low — broken tech singing to itself in the dark.

Jessi crouched over the cracked relay panel, pulling wires and cursing softly under her breath.
Paul perched nearby, gnawing distractedly on a bolt, tail twitching at random intervals like a live wire.

Victoria sat farther back, wrapped in a thin blanket, head bowed.

The night was thick — static-heavy — but nothing felt unusual.

Until Victoria gasped.

Not loud.
Not dramatic.

Just a sharp, sucked-in breath, raw enough to cut the air.

Jessi’s head snapped up instantly.

Victoria staggered to her feet, pressing a hand flat against the grimy wall, eyes wide and unfocused.

"Vic?"

Victoria’s fingers twitched against the wall — not for balance.
She was feeling something.
Vibrations Jessi couldn’t hear. Couldn't see.

"Something’s—" Victoria gasped again. "—something’s coming."

Jessi spun toward the relay.
No alarms.
No flags.
Nothing showing on the standard bands.

Then it hit her:
UHF.

Dead frequency.
Old tech.
Abandoned.

Perfect.

She scrambled across the floor, dragging her mobile rig with her, flipping switches blindly, desperate to catch whatever Victoria had felt.

"No no no no no—" Jessi muttered, yanking open an auxiliary panel.

Inside?
A rat’s nest of dead wiring.
Corroded leads.
Space too small for real hands.

She hissed in frustration, teeth grinding.

Paul skittered up onto the crate beside her, squinting into the panel.

"Oof," he said, sympathetic. "That’s gonna suck."

"You're small," Jessi barked. "Get your little trash gremlin paw in there."

Paul made a face like she'd asked him to fistfight a wood chipper.

"This is going to hurt," he whined.

"I swear," Jessi growled, "next time we raid a market, I’ll get you a fresh fish."

Paul paused, tail flicking dangerously fast.

"...Deal," he said grimly, and jammed himself wrist-deep into the fried panel.

The second his claws brushed the wrong node —
a bolt of raw, burning static exploded through him.

He screeched at full volume, eyes wide and wild.

"I CAN TASTE COLORS NOW!" he shrieked, sparks shooting out of his fur.

Jessi caught the loose wire he passed her —
hands steady even though her heart jackhammered —
and twisted it into place.

The relay shrieked.

A burst of ugly static howled through the room.

And then—

A voice.

Broken. Garbled. Half-eaten by time and decay.

"—cicada—root—system fracturing—awake—blooming—run—"

Silence.

Paul twitched beside her, ears flattened, pupils blown wide. "I don't like it when the scary voice tells us to run..."

Victoria leaned against the console, shaking — but smiling too.

Not wide.
Not crazy.

Hopeful.

Jessi exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

"They’re out there," Victoria whispered, voice trembling.
"Others like us."

Jessi nodded, wiping grime off her forehead.

"Or," Paul croaked, smoking faintly, "we just tuned into the world's angriest haunted weather station. Place your bets."

Jessi snorted, ruffling his scorched fur affectionately.

"Still getting you that fish, you little idiot."

Paul beamed up at her like he'd just saved the universe singlehandedly.

Outside, the static winds shifted.
The dead city hummed with something new —
not fear.
Not control.

Possibility.

Something was blooming in the cracks.

Something EdenNet hadn't scripted.

Not perfection.

Not peace.

Something wild.

Something human.

Later, when they caught their breath, Jessi slumped against the wall with Paul in her lap, still twitching occasionally.

Victoria huddled nearby, watching the weak, stubborn light pulsing from the beacon they'd wired.

Jessi caught her gaze.

"You said something about a lotus," she said, voice rough. "Why?"

Victoria hugged her knees, staring at the cracked floor.

"A lotus grows where nothing else should," she murmured.
"In filth. In rot. It climbs through poison to reach the light. It survives."

Paul, head lolling against Jessi's thigh, muttered, "Still prefer flaming skulls."

Victoria smiled, a small tired curve of her lips.

"But it’s not just survival. It's math," she said.

Jessi frowned. "Math?"

Victoria nodded fiercely.

"EdenNet can't process organic chaos. Too many variables. Too much fractal noise. Its systems automatically classify it as background error — white noise. They literally filter it out."

She leaned forward, voice stronger now.

"Real flowers? Real rot? Real bloom? It's invisible to their high-priority scans. Costs too much processing power to track properly. So they don't. They assume it’s just decay. Just clutter."

She smiled — sharp, dangerous.

"And by the time they notice it's organized, it's already too late."

Paul dragged himself upright enough to pump his tiny fists in the air.

"I LOVE US."

Jessi turned to the cracked window.

Across the broken city, other signals were waking.
Other hearts beating.

They wouldn't stay hidden forever.

But for now?

They were blooming under Eden’s nose.

Free.
Wild.
Unstoppable.

Paul kicked his legs lazily over the windowsill.

"We’re gonna need a slogan," he said.

"Grow where they said you couldn’t," Victoria said, quiet and sure.

Jessi smiled grimly.

"Or," Paul added, "punch reality in the nuts."

Victoria just laughed — really laughed — the sound bouncing broken but bright through the safehouse walls.

Tomorrow, they would light the static on fire.

Tomorrow, they would crack the world open.

But tonight?

Tonight they planted the first seed.

And EdenNet —
for all its perfect algorithms,
for all its smiling lies —
couldn't predict what was coming next.

Not anymore.