UNSEEN [Vol 1]

I8: Um, New Shit?

Skipped orientation—too many damn people, too much noise. iA's nagging me all morning, buzzing in my ear for the third time: "L216 Forge Wing 487A by 10 a.m... Isaac, you're going to be late."

"I know. Always late," I mutter under my breath. Not like I'm in a rush to be 'round those assholes anyway.

I take a deep breath and start with echolocation. Click my tongue just right, sending those high-frequency sound waves bouncing off everything—walls, people, some trash bin, even a stray cat slinking by. The echoes come back, filling in the blanks: I know where things are, how big they are, even the texture of the street under my boots. It's not sight, but it'll do. Then I bring in the aura vision, my little trick.

The science dudes said my eyes are special. Even though I am blind, I can only see aura. By focusing in on other people's aura, I catch all those tiny details most folks miss—the way someone's shifting their weight, their heartbeat rhythm, even can tell when they're nervous or lying. I read emotions like a storybook, each one a different shape, pulsing at its own speed. Feels like I'm seeing some weird landscape made of feelings. But I gotta watch it. Overdo the aura mapping, and it's like staring straight into the sun—headaches that could split a skull.

The crowd's thick, but I weave through them like nothing. Just ghostly shapes gliding by. No faces, no colors—just a big mess of stressed-out vibes. The further I focus, the more it all blurs into this chaotic, miserable soup of emotions. Everyone's on edge, their fear overloading the air.

And the sounds of this shitty old city? They're everywhere. I hear the creaks of metal beams that sound ready to give out, steam hissing from busted pipes, the low hum of dying signs flickering on and off. Voices echo, distorted—someone shouting in the distance, a kid whining, the scuff of worn-out shoes on broken pavement. The whole damn place hums with this low, uneasy energy, like the city's alive but barely holding on.

People move away from me, their auras flaring with fear or disgust. Like I can't pick up on that.

"What's that thing doing just wandering around here?" some woman mutters, like I'm not right there.

I smirk. Like, they know my kind is blind and think they can take advantage of it. But I see more than they'll ever guess. "Maybe I'm here to 'suck your blood,'" I mumble to myself. Gotta keep it light, right?

I leap—springing high into the cold, biting air. Wind rushes past, loud in my ears. For a few moments, I'm free, floating above all the noise and stink below. I land easy on a rooftop, my echolocation picking up the edges just before I hit. Must've jumped eighty feet, easy.

Up here, away from all the noise and bullshit, I can breathe. I shut out the auras below, just letting myself be. Down there, with all their pointing and whispering, it cuts deeper than I'd admit.

I fucking hate it here. The noise, the smells—it's all fake, just like the people. But I'm still here for a reason. Made a promise, and I don't break promises, no matter how much this place grates on me.

"Alright, time to move," I mutter under my breath. Gotta get from the Old Quarter to Alesion Academy down on Level 216. Not exactly a quick trip, especially when you gotta take the long route. No shortcuts, no special treatment for guys like me.

iA buzzes in my ear, all chipper and shit: "Reminder: You're running late. Again."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I grumble, leaping from the ledge. This place is a goddamn dump—buildings barely holding up, alleys twisting like some messed-up maze. I send out a quick wave, catching the shapes and outlines of people and walls. Got space below me, the sound waves bouncing back, painting outlines in my head. I can guess what's 'round, but iA's the one filling in the details.