Beneath the Silence

Chapter 1: A Quiet Arrival

In a quiet hospital room, the continuous beeping of monitors provided the only sound, a backdrop to the new life that had just entered the world. A nurse, her hands experienced and steady from years of practice, gently cradled a newborn baby. A familiar but always rewarding experience. To witness a new life enter the world fills her with endless joy each and every time she does it. She never gets bored of it.

As the nurse looked into the child's eyes they were wide open, but there was something unnerving about the way they stared, unblinking, directly at her. Babies weren't supposed to look like this, a focused, unblinking gaze, right after birth. It was as though the infant wasn't just seeing the world for the first time, but analyzing it, assessing everything with a cold, calculated gaze.

The nurse, who had delivered hundreds of babies, felt a shiver shoot down her spine. She glanced at the parents, her practiced smile faltering slightly. This wasn't the first time she'd seen something like this recently—an infant so still, so unnaturally calm. It was becoming more common, but that didn't make it any less disconcerting.

She gently prodded the baby's cheek, trying to coax a response—a cry, a wriggle, anything. But the child remained impassive, its tiny face unchanging, almost as if it were studying her rather than the other way around.

The parents, a young couple in their late twenties, exchanged nervous glances. The father, his voice unsteady, broke the silence first. "Is... is everything okay?"

The nurse hesitated, searching for the right words to reassure them. "Yes, perfectly fine. Just a little quiet, that's all. Some babies are like that."

She smiled again, but it didn't reach her eyes. As she handed the baby back to the mother, the strange feeling gnawing at the back of her mind persisted. This wasn't normal. None of this was. The mother, too exhausted and overcome with joy and relief, didn't feel the same unnerving sensation the nurse did. Indeed this was a very bizarre situation.

Over the next few months, the baby grew quickly—almost too quickly. It didn't cry, didn't fuss, and never seemed to need comforting. At first, the child's parents were relieved by the easygoing nature of their new addition, but their relief soon gave way to worry. There were no giggles, no cooing, no babbling—just a constant, piercing gaze that made anyone in its presence feel uneasy, as though the child could see through them. The mother often found herself staring into those deep, unblinking eyes, searching for some sign of the innocent curiosity babies usually have. But there was nothing—just an eerie stillness that was both captivating and terrifying.

And this baby wasn't alone. All across the world, more children like this began to appear—perfectly formed, eerily beautiful, too beautiful like perfectly sculpted porcelain dolls, and disturbingly emotionless. They grew faster, spoke sooner, and outperformed other children with an effortless grace that was as captivating as it was unsettling. Doctors and scientists were baffled, unable to explain the sudden surge of these so-called "Silent Ones." But while the world scrambled for answers, these children simply continued to grow, indifferent to the unease they caused. Or maybe they knew and just didn't care.

Yusuf was in the sixth grade when he first met her. It was a typical morning, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and trudged into the classroom. The same old sidewalk he's walked over and over. On the way to school he likes to jump into the small puddles after last night's rainstorm with his brand-new rain boots. He'll get mud caked all over them and his mom will be absolutely furious. He knew that but it was too fun not to jump. The air was filled with the usual morning chatter, kids laughing and trading snacks before the bell rang, beyblade battles wrapping up quickly before school began, it was a nice morning. Everything seemed normal, and Yusuf was already mentally preparing himself for recess where he will finesse a second-grader's lunch and beat him in a Yu-Gi-Oh battle.