In the city of Cybrum, towering skyscrapers jutted upwards, their sleek surfaces reflecting the constant glow of cyber tech and the scent of charged ozone. Ellis sat at her desk, eyes fixed on the screen before her as she perched high on the 23rd floor of a gleaming high-rise. Her fingers moved across the keyboard, immersed in what seemed like a harmless computer game. Quickly, she turned to look at the clock. She had only 15 minutes before the monitoring system would start watching her activities more closely. She hurried to translate and reconstruct the binary data of an image that had snagged her attention. There, within the distortion of the texture, she spotted what looked like part of a map—a critical piece of information that would guide her back home, this time, for good. A message pinged on the second half of her screen. ShadowByte3313: “Any hidden quests on the map?” Vortex0976: “Still exploring. Lot’s of background activity, but spotting some familiar markers.” ShadowByte3313: “Keep leveling up. Let me know if any rare spawns pop up.” Vortex0976: “Will do, Endgame’s close.” Waiting for more data to appear, Ellis stared outside her window, at the barren lands, beyond the borders of the tightly controlled metropolis—the wave of grey and haze still made her feel like no more than a useless speck of dust. About four years prior, she’d attempted to explore, to escape the damn city. Gone beyond the city’s monitored boundaries, she’d stepped into vast empty fields filled with laborers who toiled the overused land. Their faces were etched with exhaustion, their backs bent under the weight of the work forced on them. That day, a man, dressed with blue and white overalls and wearing a hat stiff with dirt, had approached her. “Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered, his voice rugged and firm. Ellis hesitated. She had learned to be cautious, to trust no one, but there was something in the man’s eyes—a kindness and a sort of quiet cleverness—that made her lower her guard. She pointed far, towards the hint of green. “You can’t go there, not through here. Not like that. They’ll catch ya,” he said, his voice carried the weight of a foreign lilt. “And you’re young, too young to be alone out here. Go back, girl.” Ellis straighten. “I’m fourteen,” she said, her voice held a touch of pride. “And I’m going out there, because I belong there. My papa showed me how.” “Oh yeah? And where’s your papa now?” he asked. Ellis shrugged her shoulders. “He died,” she stated simply. She paused for what seemed a very long time. “He died trying to save me. They took us from the forests out there, me and my family and they dragged me out here after killing my mama too, and my brothers.” The man’s countenance softened, but the creases on his forehead deepened. “Dressed like that, they’ll spot ya in an instant. City garments don’t belong out here. You’ll stand out like a beacon. And you’ll end up like your family. Don’t ya see? There are miles, hundreds of miles of this dry forsaken land before you can even think about getting close to the forests. If there’re any left.” Realizing the truth in his words, Ellis took a step back, the weight of the moment settling on her shoulders. She looked at the man more intently. “What’s your name?” “No name for me, young lady,” he replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I have a number: Serfkin3003. And if you’re not careful and don’t end up under six feet of dead soil, you’ll be Serfkin50456. That’s how many we are out here in this section.” “I’m Ellis Dracova,” she offered. “What ‘bout your number?” he asked. Ellis stared at him. The number—a reminder that she was nothing but a tool. Her throat suddenly went dry. She turned her face behind her and spat at the ground. “I don’t say my number unless I have to. And I don’t have to right now.” The man looked at her suddenly and he noticed an innate determination that would one day serve her. He nodded. “Here,” he said as he pulled a newly wrapped package from a canvas bag and gave it to her. “What’s this?” she asked. “A serfkin uniform. You can have it, you’ll need it one day,” he said. “Give it about four more years and you’ll be ready, stronger, more prepared.” “What about you? Don’t you need this? Yours is…dirty.” “I’ll handle it,” he said Ellis turned around to leave. “Thank you…sir.” “Good luck,” he said, but before turning around to leave he added, “I’m Mark McAllen.” “Thank you, Mark.” “One more thing,” he said as if remembering something important. “How’d you even get this far without being noticed?” Ellis smiled for the first time in years and with a glint in her eye just shrugged her shoulders. The barren lands hadn’t scared Ellis at all. If crossing them meant getting closer to the green lands, then, she would do it. Anyone else from the city, venturing through them would likely run back, driven by the fear of poverty, of grueling labor, and the unsettling thought of being disconnected from their digital lifeline. But for Ellis, the absence of virtual noise felt like a long-lost freedom, a silence urging her toward the sanctuaries of the forests. Instead, she noticed that the people in Cybrum moved like cogs in a vast machine, their faces overexposed by the cold glow of flickering monitors, their thoughts tethered to streams of social feeds, news cycles, explicit content and mindless digital chatter. The screens pulled them in, stealing their moments of reflection, their ability to question the world around them. In time, their minds, she’d noticed, had dulled, and their bodies grown weak, many now slumped in cyber-chairs as they shuffled through the streets, the many years spent glued to their screens etched in their fragile bones. Above it all, the city's rigid laws banished even the memory of the natural world. Except of course, for Kellen, the evil man who’d been one of the main movers and creators of Cybrum—for him the rules didn’t seem to apply. Director Kellen had stood at the heart of Cybrum operations, usually surveying the scene from his glass-walled office as he monitored a system that fed millions while keeping them shackled to the digital world. Yet, hidden from view, deep within the guarded confines of his estate, lay a lush garden, filled with rare and exotic plants and birds. It was his private sanctuary, a place where he indulged in the very natural beauty he so much condemned. With only 5 minutes left before the monitoring systems would tighten their grip, a stream of information flowed in. Ellis hunched over the keyboard again, decoding message after message. The map on her screen flickered with incomplete paths, the scattered safe zones just out of reach. Sweat beaded on her forehead, tasting blood as she bit her lip. At just eighteen, she was on the verge of relocation, where the systems she relied on for hacking and decoding messages would be out of reach. If she failed now, she would be swallowed by the abyss of Cybrum, with no way to continue her mission. The map, once finished, would be her guide, leading her out of this suffocating digital cage and into the dense ancient forests. She hoped. A final ping confirmed what she had been waiting for: the last piece of the map. “Got it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steady hum of the cooling system. With the map now complete, she quickly committed it to memory. With seconds to spare, her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she quickly typed out a secure message to ShadowByte3313. Vortex0976: “I’ve got it. The last piece in place.” The reply came almost instantly. ShadowByte3313: “You’re sure? No mistakes?” Vortex0976: “No mistakes. Good to go.” ShadowByte3313: “It’s about time. Get ready, Vortex. This is it.” Vortex0976: “Already on it. Completing my last school assignment. I’ll meet you at rendezvous tomorrow at 18:30. Endgame.” ShadowByte3313: “Stay sharp.” The screen flickered off as she forced her mind to focus, gathering the tools and the serfikin uniform she’d been hiding. Her attention turned to the blinking reminder on her desk: her last school assignment on synthetic beef production. It was just one last task, she thought to herself, before the final ‘family gathering’ where she’d be alone, as her family had been executed for leading city dwellers into the forest. The memory still tightened around her like the grip of the guard who’d had dragged her away as a child, orphaned and thrust into Cybrum’s heart. Vulnerable. Alone. The memory was a constant reminder of why she was marked ‘red-coded,’ a danger to the city’s order. As a result, they watched her closely, wary of the instincts she couldn’t fully suppress: the pull of the natural world that set her apart. But a hope pulsed through her veins as the end grew near. “Ellis9372,” Kellen’s voice cut through her thoughts. She turned to find him standing in the doorway.“Yes director?” she replied, masking the disdain she felt in her heart. He stepped into the small room, his polished shoes clicked against the gleaming floor. “Have you completed your assignment and prepared for its presentation at the family gathering?” She nodded, caught off guard, hoping she hadn’t left any trace of her plans in her room that might arouse his suspicion. “Okay, then. Do you have your chip?” Ellis rushed to her desk and pulled out a tiny device. “Yes, it’s right here, Director.” “I need to attend an urgent family matter,” he said. “Instead of joining the other parents, I will look at your presentation here. Right now.” “Yes, Director.” “Initiate your computer system,” he said. Ellis reached for the power button and the screen flickered to life. For a moment, she held her breath, eyes scanning the monitor for any trace of her recent conversations with ShadowByte3313. The usual login screen greeted her and relief washed over her as she opened the assignment file and began the presentation; her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. After about twenty minutes, Kellen’s voice cut through, interrupting her, “Very well, Ellis9372,” he said, nodding at her work. “You’ll be relocated within the main city’s central district, away from the school sector. You’ll be assigned to a new residence at Tower 17 on Circuit Avenue. Here,” he handed her a small, sleek keycard, “this will grant you access to your new living quarters. The Tower is connected to the city grid, so you’ll have everything you need to continue your education. I expect for you to uphold Cybrum’s legacy.” He paused, his gaze lingering on her, as if to gauge her reaction. “Report to your new address by 0800 tomorrow. I expect you to settle in quickly and adapt to your new environment.” “Yes, Director, Kellen.” “Let us begin,” he inhaled a deep breath. “Stand up and raise your right hand as you swear to uphold the principles of Cybrum: to serve the city with unwavering loyalty, to protect its digital sanctity, and to obey the directives of its leaders without question. Do you swear?” He watched her intently, cold and unyielding, as she stood up and raised her hand. But somewhere, buried deep within her, were the memories of her family: fragmented images of dense forests, raging waters, soaring eagles and the kind whisper of leaves in the wind. The freedom to explore was etched in her soul. The memories, though blurred by time and the oppressive weight of Cybrum, fueled her determination. The forests were not just a place; they were the essence of everything she had lost and everything she was fighting to reclaim. “Yes, director, I swear,” she lied.