Neon Dawn

Chapter 1. Amber.

I heard a cry, and not for the first time. It startled me, a welcome distraction from the task at hand. Distracted, I slipped and the knife sliced across my palm. I breathed sharply, unable to connect to the sound through the pain. I could no longer hear it, my senses so alert just moments before, now deadened as the pain intensified. I got up from the table, hand elevated to try and stop the bleeding. The sticky deep ruby liquid running down my wrist, the air thick with the smell of blood, iron and bone.

The odour lay heavy on my senses my head gave way to a lightness lifting me. My body fighting the crushing weight pinning me to the floor. Darkness filled the air and I heard it again. The same cry but closer, I felt it as much as heard it desperately trying to place it. I recognise this, I know this, but my mind fails me in this abyss.

It's been 256 days now since the neon dawn, 256 days of fear. The initial panic and outrage has long since gone, the sensory depravation riles. No contact, connectivity, no sound, no way out of this 'Safe House'.

I can't wait to get out of here. It's a scam, I just know it is, but I don't want to arouse suspicion so I go along with it. Humour them, the GENS, the ones who got us into this mess in the first place.

I breathe deeply, force myself to focus on what is in front of me. My hand throbs, I tear a strip of fabric from the bottom of my trousers to stem the flow. I pray it's not too dirty, I'm screwed if this gets infected. I listen again, nothing. No cry, no sound, no trace but I sense it, a presence and I know she's near. I return to the table, continue cutting the rope. The twisted fibres have soaked up the blood and are starting to crust over.

'You ok?'

A voice from the other end of the room calls over softly.

'Yes, it's nothing'

Say nothing, do nothing, be nothing. It's the only way to survive in here. I spend my days blending in. It's tedious but necessary. I've become invisible, I've seen what happens to those who make themselves known. The ones whose strengths turned out to be their biggest weakness.

I'm a ghost here, weak in their eyes, timid, compliant. They don't know it yet. They don't know that those of us who yield without breaking are the strongest of all.

I recall it, the warnings.

Stark, urgent, terrifying.

Disconnect.

No one believed it, the signs were there all along, so obvious now, dismissed as paranoia, conspiracy theories.

Disconnect.

The dark web absorbed the digital landscape, unnoticed feeding, alongside the trolls on the misery of the masses. The shiny veneer started to crack, revealing the ugly truth behind the perfect grids, windows on a world that no longer existed. Nothing was as it seemed, perfection at a glance but scratch the surface and the sheer ugliness was there to see, hiding in plain sight.

Greed, envy, violence, amassed a huge cult following around the globe. It was welcomed and embraced by the far right. They used it as their secret weapon. It gave them exactly what they needed, exactly when they needed it. Coverage exposure, an audience, it gave them their gateway to power. They never questioned its unwavering appetite for more, never considered its motivation, never thought it could become more powerful than them. That this web so dark , so powerful, so unstoppable, would become their biggest enemy.

The GENS, so blinded by the possibilities never once fully realising the threat, until it was too late. Way way too late. They had no way to disconnect, no idea what their generation had unleashed on the world.

The siren pierces the silence, sharp and shrill, it halts all activity. We stop what we are doing, stand up and await instruction. The automated voice tells us to return to our bunkers, they'll be no food today.

Silence fills the room, it's louder than any protest we could muster, we know there's no point arguing, it only gives them an excuse to punish us further. A pause, loaded with anticipation, will someone crack, shout out, cry that it's not fair, give them what they want?

I've figured it out, they feed on our pain, on our suffering, on our misery. It makes them stronger. I sense I'm not the only one who knows this, I can hear their cries, silent to the world around us but there, buried deep inside, and I know they can hear mine.

The others are out there, somewhere I have to find them. I have no idea what is waiting for us outside, but I know it's got to be better than this.