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CHAPTER 4 A sliver of dawn broke through the curtains, casting a warm glow on Sophia’s face. Her eyes flickered open, greeted by the familiar patterns of the sun creeping through her window. She let out a sigh, stretching as her fingers brushed against the soft linen sheets. Her brown hair spilled over her shoulders in disarray, the natural waves catching the morning light. Reaching for her glasses on the bedside table, she slipped them on; the world sharpening into focus. The compact room came into view—crystal trinkets hanging from a macrame holder, the plant she nurtured by the glass pane, and the books stacked haphazardly by her side. “Morning, FERN,” Sophia murmured, her voice quiet but laced with affection. A series of beeps came from the corner as FERN’s metal limbs moved. The small automaton, more like a friend than a machine, floated toward her and mimicked her stretch with a twist of its arms. She smiled, tying her hair back in a loose ponytail. This revealed her high cheekbones and the tiny crystals on the chain around her neck. She reached for a soft yellow vest from the chair and pulled it over her long-sleeved shirt. The fabric conveyed the same warmth as the morning light. As usual, FERN followed her, its sensors tracking her every move. “Ready for another adventure?” she asked, her eyes shining as she looked at the little machine. FERN chirped, floating up to her shoulder. Sophia walked through her family’s home, FERN close behind. Her thoughts drifted to her dreams from last night. With landscapes, that evoked both familiarity and distance. Her brow furrowed as she wrote. “I wonder, FERN,” she said. “What do you think lies above us? What secrets from before the Discontinuity are out there, waiting to be uncovered?” FERN beeped, the sound resembling an encouraging nod. Sophia smiled, but it flickered, fading as quickly as it appeared. Her fingers traced the worn edges of her notebook, each ridge a reminder of a past that seemed more distant with every passing day. “Do you remember when Mom was still with us? Before she got sick?” Her voice was soft, like the memories themselves were too fragile to speak of. FERNs sensors locked onto her, as It hovered closer, its gentle hum a kind of reassurance, though the void left behind by her mother appeared far too vast for anything, or anyone, to truly occupy. “In the old days,” Sophia continued, her gaze drifting, “we would explore the ancient tunnels together. She was always so eager, finding something new to study, to decode. It was like the world was one gigantic puzzle waiting to be solved.” Her eyes grew distant, lost in the space where the past remained noticeable. “Mom had this energy… you remember, right?” She laughed, but there was no joy in it. “She was always coming up with new ideas, new theories about the Discontinuity, about how things used to be. It was like she couldn’t stop.” Sophia waved a hand as she spoke, a gesture filled with a kind of animation that came from memory alone. FERN, ever watchful, seemed to understand, its mechanical wings lowering in sadness. “Sometimes,” Sophia murmured, “I swear I can still hear her. That laugh. The way she could explain anything, no matter how complicated, and make it seem… I don’t know… like we had the power to fix it all. Like anything was possible.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with a longing that Sophia struggled to hide. She stopped, swallowing hard as a tightness formed in her throat. The familiar ache of missing someone. “I miss her,” she admitted, the words coming out quieter than she intended, as though speaking them might shatter her already fragile composure. Sophia drew in a breath, fighting against the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. She reached up to push a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her movements deliberate, controlled. “But there’s no going back, is there?” Her voice was steady now, though her eyes betrayed the storm within. “All we can do is move forward. Just like she would’ve wanted.” FERN buzzed in agreement, its sensors shifting, locking onto hers as though it understood the gravity of what she had said. Sophia stood still for a moment longer, letting the silence settle between them before finally closing the notebook. With a deep breath, she stood, brushing the dust from her pants. “Come on,” she said, her tone lighter, though the sadness still lingered at the edges. “Another day of exploration awaits.” Turning, she headed for the door, FERN following like memories that never fade. FERN chirped again, this time more insistently, as if reminding her she was not alone. Sophia let out a breath, shaking her head. “No, She’d want us to keep going, to keep searching.” Her gaze softened as she looked at FERN, the small machine vibrating with anticipation, its desire to help her so evident despite its simple design. By now, golden light bathed the kitchen, with the warmth of the morning filtering in and casting long shadows on the floor. The delicate, earthy aroma of wood and herbs permeated the air, every item in the room a silent witness to the life she had shared with her mother. Sophia opened the cupboard and gathered a few ingredients for breakfast. “Let’s see what we’ve got today, FERN. How about porridge?” It fluttered in agreement as it followed her movements, tracking each of her steps as she pulled out the oats and spices. The rhythmic sound of utensils clinking against bowls filled the space, mingling with the indistinct murmur of the appliances as she moved around the kitchen. Sophia set the oats to cook on the stove, stirring in cinnamon and nutmeg. The room filled with the fragrant aroma, and for a moment, her mother was there beside her. The memory of her mother’s laughter, stemmed from the same scent wafting through the air, tugged at her heart. Slicing a loaf of bread, she sat at the ancient wooden table, her mind still drifting between the past and the present. She drew in a long breath, savoring the quiet before raising her utensil. FERN hovered by her side, offering its silent companionship. As she ate, she glanced at the empty chair across from her, the one that her mom used to sit in. For a moment, she could almost see her there—her warm smile, the sparkle in her eyes as they spoke of the future, of the discoveries they would make. Sophia set down her fork, her chest tightening with the bittersweet ache of loss. “She wouldn’t want me to give up,” she whispered, more to herself than to FERN, though the little automaton chirped in agreement. “There’s still so much out there. So much left to uncover.” FERN floated closer, its frame throwing a soft shadow on the table as it whirred with support. “We’ll keep going, FERN. We’ll uncover the truth. For her.” Sophia stood at the window, her fingertips brushing the cold glass, as if trying to capture the light slipping through the panes. She released a sigh, aware of the heaviness of unspoken thoughts pressing upon her. “Sometimes, I wonder what lies beyond our Community, FERN,” she murmured. Her voice, though quiet, carried a tremor of curiosity. She glanced over at FERN, the small automaton floating by her side. “What secrets lie hidden in our past? What mysteries await us?” FERNs encouraging chirp grounded her. Sophia’s lips twitched into a brief smile as she stepped away from the window, her fingers trailing along the smooth surface of the counter. “Remember when we were on that path of discovery before Mom got sick?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with sadness. FERN hovered closer, in a protective matter. It knew these shifts in her mood well, and though it had no memory of her mother, it responded with the same unwavering presence. “We used to explore all the hidden corners of Level Four.” Sophia’s words came slowly, each one pulling at the corners of her mind, stirring memories long buried beneath the surface. A smile, bittersweet and tinged with loss, spread across her face. “Mom was always so alive back then. So full of ideas. Every day, there was a different theory, a new story about the Discontinuity. She had this way of making life an adventure.” FERN beeped, its wings slowing as if it, too, was taking a moment to reflect. Of course, it couldn’t. Not really. But something in its gentle response made Sophia feel less alone, as if the echoes of the past were still alive, still tangible. Sophia’s voice grew quieter, her words catching in her throat. “We’d sit around for hours,” she continued, “listening to her talk about the ancient artifacts she’d find, the way she’d get so eager over the smallest details.” A tear slipped down her cheek, unnoticed until it cooled against her skin. She wiped it away, her breath hitching. Vivid memories now cut deep in the kitchen’s quietude. FERN chirped again, hovering just a little closer, its soft glow warming the dim space. Its presence was steady, unwavering, as if it could hold all of her pain without faltering. Sophia blinked back the rest of her tears, exhaling. Her thoughts had drifted to her father. She closed her eyes, but the image came unbidden—the explosion, the chaos, the silence that followed as the dust settled over everything she had ever known. The memory remained vivid, unaffected by time. The face of her father, marked by a life of hard work, was the last image she saw before everything fell apart. His voice, so calm even amid it all, echoed in her mind, haunting her in quiet moments like this. Sophia swallowed hard, gripping the counter until her knuckles turned white. The Community was safe. It was home. However, there was still plenty of uncharted land to explore. Secrets her mother had almost uncovered before she got sick. “I miss them so much, FERN,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Every day, I feel this emptiness inside, and no matter what I do, I can’t fill it. I just want to hear them again, even for a moment.” FERN beeped softly. Its sensors flickered, and it lowered closer to her. It was a slight gesture, but it brought her comfort. Sophia took a deep breath, letting the instance pass, grounding herself in the present. The faint hum of FERN’s wings, the steady ticking of the clock on the wall—these things were real. Here. Now. She couldn’t change the past. But she could honor it. “We’ll find the answers,” she said, her voice stronger now. “We have to. For them.” She straightened, the tears drying on her cheeks as she squared her shoulders. “We owe it to them to keep searching, to keep asking questions, and to never stop until we’ve uncovered the truth.” FERN’s wings fluttered in excitement, a soft whirr filling the room as if it, too, was ready for the next step. It pulsed a gentle blue, matching her resolve. “The day everything changed,” Sophia whispered, standing in the doorway. Next to her, FERN’s gears clicked, blending into the quiet hum of the underground. A slideshow of memories flickered on the wall, casting a warm, familiar light across the room. Sophia stayed still, watching images from her childhood drift by, like a bittersweet dream. Her mother’s laugh echoed, a sound that once brought warmth and safety. The smell of cinnamon hung in the air, like the pastries her mother made on special days. But now, the memories drifted away. “Mom… Dad…” Sophia’s voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears. FERN paused the slideshow, giving her a moment to breathe. A frozen picnic scene, a moment from a simpler past, hung on the wall—before the world changed. FERN resumed, slower this time, its artificial intelligence responding to the heavy beats of Sophia’s heart. Sophia wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, trying to stay present, to hold on to the precious moments captured in the images. But the pain of their absence stung her chest like a thousand needles. Her father’s voice filled the room—faint but unmistakable. “You’re stronger than you think, Sophie,” he would say, his calloused hands resting on her shoulders, grounding her. The next photograph appeared. Her father, much younger, standing in front of an abandoned train station. Sophia’s brow furrowed. Trains hadn’t run since the first Discontinuity Event. she thought to herself, Yet, there he was. “Wait,” she whispered, leaning forward as though getting closer to the image might reveal the truth hidden within it. “FERN, freeze the image. Zoom in.” The projection zoomed in on the photograph, focusing on her father’s face, and then the boy’s. Her heart pounded. “Can you run a visual comparison? I need to know if that’s really him.” FERN’s sensors analyzed the photograph and moments later, it projected a hologram of her father’s face beside the image—an exact match. “No...” Sophia exhaled, experiencing a wave of disbelief wash over her. The Discontinuity had wiped out all rail travel. It couldn’t be real. Still, the evidence was right there in front of her. She stood frozen, staring at her father’s face, trying to reconcile the image with everything she thought she knew about him. She rose to her feet, the sudden movement startling FERN. “There has to be more,” she muttered, half to herself, half to FERN. “Father kept so much hidden… There must be something in his study.” FERN’s glow pulsed, responding to her heightened state. Without a word, it floated ahead, lighting their path down the long, dim corridor to her father’s private study. The familiar scent of aged books and worn leather greeted her as they entered. The room had always been her father’s sanctuary—a place filled with remnants of his secretive life. “Search,” she commanded. FERN’s sensors swept the room, its tiny beams of light scanning each shelf, each object, until it paused, focusing on a small, dusty box tucked away on a tall shelf. It glowed, a relic of a past. She reached up, her hands trembling slightly as she brought the box down. Years of handling had worn down the wood, making its edges smooth. Inside, she found a pile of yellowed photographs—more images from a life her father had hidden from her. The initial photo was identical to the one in the slideshow. She stared at it again, trying to find meaning in the minor details. The image didn’t trouble her as much as deliberate secrecy. Beneath the first photo were dozens more, each one offering glimpses into a world she didn’t know—a world her father had shielded her from. Sophia’s fingers trembled as she lifted the stack, slowly flipping through the images. One showed her father, the same boy from the first photo, and several others, all standing around a massive structure she couldn’t quite identify. In another, the same boy—Elliott—stood alone in front of a large map, lines crisscrossing it in a dizzying maze of paths and destinations. Upon flipping through the last photo, she froze. Her father’s familiar handwriting stretched across the back in neat, careful strokes: * “In time, you will find me.”* Her heart skipped. She gripped the edges of the photograph, reading the words over and over. “What does this mean?” she whispered. “In time, you will find me… Where, Father? Where are you leading me?” She couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that this was all part of a larger puzzle—one her father had started but never finished. He had always loved puzzles, leaving her cryptic clues when she was a child, leading her on scavenger hunts through the caverns. But this… this was something else entirely. FERN hovered closer, its sensors scanning the photographs as if trying to decode the meaning behind them. “Elliott,” Sophia muttered to herself. “Who is he?” FERN chirped, breaking her from her thoughts. “Run a search on the name Elliott. Cross-reference it with anything in the Silent Elders’ Archive,” Sophia said, her mind racing ahead to what she needed to do next. FERN’s lights dimmed as it processed the request. Moments later, it chirped again, signaling it had found something. Sophia glanced at the small projection that appeared beside her—an ancient record from the Silent Elders’ Archive. The entry was brief but significant: *Elliott; last known location: Old Town, Surface Level, near the derelict train station.* Her breath caught. The train station from the photo. “That’s it,” she said, more to herself than FERN. “That’s where I need to go.” Sophia’s gaze returned to the photo, bringing her newfound clarity. Her father hadn’t just been leaving her memories—he left her a trail of clues. A trail that led to Old Town, to Elliott, and to answers she couldn’t even comprehend. “I need to go to the Surface,” she said, her voice resolute. “To the old train station. If there’s anything left of my father’s story, that’s where I’ll find it.” FERN hummed in agreement, its glow intensifying. Sophia grabbed a small satchel from her father’s desk, packing the photos inside. Her fingers brushed against a familiar object—an old compass her father used to carry. She held it up, the weight of it comforting in her palm. The needle spun, erratic at first, before settling. “Let’s go,” she whispered, clutching the compass. The path ahead felt daunting, but Sophia had no choice. Answers waited on the Surface—at the train station, in Old Town, and with Elliott. As they made their way through the winding corridors of the underground, Sophia couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had been leading to this moment. Her father’s cryptic messages, the hidden photographs, the stories he used to tell her late at night—it all made sense now. He had been preparing her for this journey, even if she hadn’t known it. FERN floated beside her, its presence a comforting reminder she wasn’t alone in this. They flicked, each step bringing them closer to the truth. ———- Sophia sat at her father’s desk, papers scattered around her. The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of FERN, scanning the documents for patterns. The air smelled of old paper and dust, a scent that reminded her of lost memories. Her fingers touched the edge of a worn leather journal she found under a pile of reports. This one felt different—more personal. She took a deep breath and carefully opened it, trying not to tear the fragile pages. The handwriting was her father’s, neat and precise. But some lines showed a slight tremor, as if he had written in a hurry or while stressed. Sophia’s heart raced as she read the first few entries. “The Visionaries are pushing harder,” one entry read. “They want results, but I’m starting to question why. Behavioral experiments... This isn’t what I agreed to. This isn’t the mission of the Scientific Council. I’m worried they’re using our work for something bad.” Sophia’s heart raced. She knew the Visionaries had influence, but she never thought her father’s research was involved in anything like this. Behavioral experiments? That was new to her. “FERN,” she whispered, leaning toward the small automaton. “Search the Community archives. Look for any social or behavioral projects linked to the Visionaries and my father.” FERN’s sensors blinked in response, emitting a soft beep as it began its search. The room remained silent, with only the ticking of an old clock. Sophia’s eyes went back to the journal, turning the pages faster now. “The Visionaries think controlling behavior is key to survival,” another entry read. “They’ve started tests on a small group from Level Two. They want to see how people react to stress, isolation, and time manipulation. I can’t help but feel this will lead to disaster.” Sophia’s heart thudded in her chest as she read on. Her father’s words laced with doubt, with the fear that only someone trapped in a web of secrets could express. Did someone coerce him into this project? Or worse, had someone sabotaged him for trying to stop it? She turned another page, and her breath caught in her throat. A folded piece of paper fell out, yellowed and delicate with age. Unfolding it, Sophia’s eyes widened as she recognized the names listed on the sheet. They were people she had known growing up—respected members of the Community, many of whom had disappeared without explanation. The heading at the top of the page made her stomach churn: “Test Group Alpha–Behavioral Conditioning and Time Manipulation Trials.” A horrible truth hit her. These weren’t just names—they were people. Her father had been part of experiments on real individuals, controlling them and watching how they reacted to fake stress. But why? What made them disappear? “FERN,” Sophia’s voice shook as she held the paper tightly. “Did you find anything?” FERN beeped, its sensors glowing as it projected a small holographic screen. Reports appeared in front of Sophia, many blacked out, but enough was visible to confirm her fears. The Visionaries had approved the project, calling it a “social resilience study.” They wanted to see how the Community could handle isolation and stress. But the real details—about how they controlled behavior and time—were hidden from the public. “This can’t be real,” Sophia muttered, though the evidence lay before her. This involved her father. He had been a key player in a project that tested the very limits of human endurance—without their consent. She leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. The explosion that had claimed her father’s life—was it connected to this? Had he uncovered something so dangerous, so damning, that it had cost him everything? Or had the Visionaries silenced him before he could expose the truth? The journal slipped from her hands, landing with a soft thud on the desk. Sophia stared at the open pages, her thoughts spiraling into chaos. Had her father known the full extent of what the Visionaries were planning? Had he tried to stop them?