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Chapter 1 He paced the narrow length of the room, the soles of his boots worn smooth from years of restless strides. Theos eyes traced the familiar glow of the screens lining the walls. Data flickered across them in steady streams, a digital pulse keeping time with the quiet hum of machinery. The air was thick with the scent of old circuits and the slight, metallic tang of recycled air. He hardly noticed anymore. Theo had spent years studying the Discontinuity, a crack in time that ran deep below them all. It was the real pulse of their world, and he was determined to figure out its strange rhythms. His workspace was full of maps showing time shifts, charts with odd patterns, and equations that never quite added up. As a TIMEFRAMER, his job was to keep the Community safe from the Discontinuity’s wild power. But Theo couldn’t shake the feeling that time was both a tool and a prison. Here, time wasn’t just an idea—it was a force that shifted and bent in ways no one fully understood. The deeper you went into the Community, the more time changed everything. Level One, closest to the core, was where the Visionaries lived. The gravity there was stronger, making time move slower. It stretched their lives well beyond normal, which they claimed gave them wisdom. But Theo saw what it really did—it made them cold, distant, and hungry for control. Above them was Level Two, the farming level, that suplied all the crops the Community neededThe slower pace of time here let farmers nurture their crops, ensuring they thrived in a place where nothing else would grow. In the middle was Level Three, where the maintenance workers and their families lived. This level was central to the fluctuations in time, and its position helped minimize the differences in aging between the workers and their families as they moved between levels. Lastly, Level Four, near the surface, was home to the retired messengers and the elderly. Time moved much faster there, allowing them to live out their final years in peace, their lives speeding up as they neared the end. ———- Theos fingers hovered over the console in front of him, his mind racing even as he stood still. “The next phase is within reach,” the Visionaries had told him. Theo clenched his jaw. The next phase. As if they had any idea what they were asking. They were so blinded by their ambition, by their need to control time itself, that they didn’t see the risks. Or worse, they didn’t care. Theo’s chest tightened at the thought. He had witnessed the Discontinuity’s power up close—the crack in time that ran beneath the Community, warping everything around it. For years, he had studied its wild rhythms, his screens filled with charts of strange events and equations that never seemed to work out. It was the core of their world, unpredictable and dangerous. Every time they tried to control it, disaster loomed closer. But they kept pushing. His hand trembled over the glowing keys of the console. The Visionaries’ latest message blinked on the screen, indicating that an update is required. Full implementation must be prepared by the end of the cycle. They didn’t know what they were asking of him. Each step forward pushed them closer to catastrophe, but the Visionaries saw only the end goal—their control over time. Theo swallowed against the rising bitterness in his throat. He had to protect the Community. He had to protect his daughter, Sophia. His thoughts shifted, unbidden, to her. He could still hear her laughter echoing through the halls of their home, the warmth of her small hand in his as they walked the corridors together. He would give anything to keep her safe, to shield her from the future the Visionaries were trying to shape. But the task before him felt insurmountable. Every new discovery in his research only made the danger more apparent. A soft chime broke the silence, and Theo’s eyes snapped back to the screen. He read the words again, as though they might change if he stared long enough. They wouldn’t. The Visionaries’ orders were absolute. With a weary sigh, he turned from the console and sank into his chair. The journal on the desk before him lay open, pages filled with notes and sketches, each line a testament to the years he’d spent chasing answers. But the Discontinuity was beyond understanding. It defied every law, every pattern he thought he’d unraveled. He couldn’t help but think back to the early days—when he was still hopeful, still eager instill positive change. That hope had been shattered the day of the experiment. Theo pressed a hand to his temple as the memory returned with full force. The junior engineer’s face, eager and bright, ready to make his mark on the world. He’d volunteered for the procedure without hesitation. And Theo had been so confident then, too. The plan had been simple—a controlled manipulation of the temporal flow on Level Two to increase crop productivity. But they hadn’t accounted for the Discontinuity’s chaotic nature. It had reacted violently to their interference. Theo remembered the air in the lab growing heavy, the oppressive weight of time itself bearing down on them. And then, the engineer’s scream—so raw and primal it had cut through every layer of his soul. Theo squeezed his eyes shut, his hand clenching around the edge of the desk. He could still see it, still hear it. The young man’s body, torn between timelines, pulled apart as time fractured around him. By the end, there was nothing left. The Visionaries had tried to cover it up, but the truth clung to Theo like a shadow, always there, always reminding him of the dangers they faced. He opened his eyes and looked down at the pages of equations spread across his desk. Consequently, he had been more cautious learning to approach the Discontinuity with a level of caution the Visionaries would never understand. But no matter how careful he was, the risks never disappeared. They couldn’t control it. They couldn’t bend time to their will without consequences. The Visionaries, of course, refused to see it that way. In their eyes, time was a resource—something to be mined and harvested, like crops or raw materials. They believed that with enough research, enough data, they could master the Discontinuity. But Theo knew better. The elevator ride to the Visionaries’ chamber was long and silent, the low hum of machinery the only sound. Theo stood still, hands clasped in front of him, his thoughts racing. He had rehearsed this conversation a hundred times in his mind, but now that the moment was here, the words felt heavy in his throat. The Visionaries didn’t see the world the way he did. To them, time was a tool, a means to an end. They were so focused on their goals, they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see the dangers. When the doors opened, Theo stepped into the chamber, his heart racing. The Visionaries sat in a half-circle, their faces hidden in shadow. The room was cold and sterile, so different from the warmth of the farming levels below. Time seemed to move slower here, making the Visionaries age in ways others didn’t experience. “Give us your report,” one of them said, their voice calm but edged with impatience. Theo took a breath and steadied himself. “We’re close,” he started, trying to keep his voice steady, though his heart raced. “But there are still some factors we need to consider. The Discontinuity—” “We don’t want excuses,” another Visionary cut in, their voice sharp. “We want results. The Community can’t wait any longer.” Theo’s jaw tightened. He had expected their impatience, but it still grated on him. “If we push too fast,” he said, “we risk destabilizing the entire system. The Discontinuity isn’t something we can control on a whim. It’s volatile.” The Visionaries exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable in the dim light. “Then you will find a way to make it less volatile,” the first Visionary said. “Time is our greatest asset, Theo. We cannot afford to waste it.” Theo took a slow breath, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. They didn’t understand. They never had. “If we make a mistake—” “There will be no mistakes,” the Visionary cut him off. “You are the best we have, Theo. You will make it work.” The words landed like a blow, and Theo felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. They were asking him to do the impossible—to play with forces that could destroy everything they had built. And yet, he had no choice. “Understood,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. The Visionaries nodded, already shifting their attention to other matters. “You are dismissed,” one of them said. Theo turned on his heel and left the chamber, the weight of their demands settling on his shoulders. The elevator hummed as it descended, carrying him back to his lab, back to the cold, sterile air of the lower levels. As the doors slid open and he stepped into the corridor, Theo paused for a moment, his mind swirling with thoughts. He couldn’t stop the Visionaries on his own. But there had to be another way. If he could find the key to stabilizing the Discontinuity—before they pushed too far—he might still have a chance to protect the Community. For now, though, there was unfinished business to attend to. He would see his family tonight, hold Sophia close, and try to remind himself of the reason he continued down this path. As he made his way toward the main elevators, a quiet resolve settled over him. Theo’s boots whispered across the marble tile of the first-floor halls. Warm light bathed his path, casting a golden hue upon the sterile walls. As his eyes adjusted to the glow, the flickering bulbs cast dancing shadows against the ancient stone walls. They twirled like silent specters, speaking of days long past and secrets buried deep. Theo found solace in these patterns. A welcoming distraction from his job with the Scientific Council of Temporality. The lobby, with its quiet elegance, led to the upper floors. It grounded him, reminding him of the unity that held everyone together in their underground home. A faint echo of footsteps brought Theo back to the present. He kept his eyes on the play of light and shadow as he waited for the elevator, the sound of children’s laughter growing closer. Clad in simple garments, the kids wove around him like playful sprites. Each child’s smile was a sunbeam piercing the subterranean gloom, lifting Theo’s heart. Their clothes were strong for recreation and functionality, but spotless, showing the pride and resilience of Level One. As they ran past, a small, wide-eyed boy with messy hair looked up at Theo. “Go on, Jace,” Theo encouraged with a gentle nudge, “you’ll catch them yet.” Jace beamed, revealing his missing front tooth, and scampered off after his friends. Theo thought of his own daughter, Sophia, her laughter just as vibrant. He longed to sweep her into his arms and spin her through the air, sharing in this pure moment of joy. He knew his upcoming visit was a short, precious break from his heavy responsibilities. These moments reminded him why he worked tirelessly. As he moved on, the sounds of their merriment stayed with him. The biometric pad on the elevators awaited his touch. Theo pressed his palm against it, and the sensors sprang to life, mapping his fingerprints and the warmth of his blood. A gentle chime announced the elevator’s arrival, and its doors opened to welcome him. For a moment, Theo stood at the lobby’s edge with lights flickering across his face before stepping into the elevator. As they closed, wrapping him in a muffled cocoon as he prepared for his tasks above. During his ascent, he reminisced about his purpose. Everything he did was for Sophia, Lilith, and their shared future. The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a bustling scene of farmers hard at work. Under the gentle glow of bioluminescent lights, they cared for the crops that fed the entire Community. The air carried the fresh scents of fruits, vegetables, and the earthy smell of the soil. Tranquility enveloped each motion, establishing a harmonious flow of deliberate activity. Theo watched the farmers, noticing the worn fabric of their tunics, with patches and stitches showing their hard work and dedication. As he walked, he received nods and gentle greetings. He saw his dedication to the greater good reflected in the agricultural workers. Theo paused beside a cluster of ripe berries, their red color standing out against the muted tones around them. He experienced a soft give when he lightly pressed on it. Coaxing life from the reluctant earth was a small marvel, a triumph of ingenuity. Among the rows of green crops, workers moved with purpose, their hands pruning and picking. Their faces showed determination, etched with lines of resilience. The reality of growth and decay rooted their lives. ——— Theo’s hand lingered for a moment on the biometric pad, its cool surface registering his presence with a faint thrum. He pressed the button for the third floor. The transition from the second level to the third was much faster than the previous rides. and before he knew it, the lift came to a complete stop and its doors opened. Theo walked through the crowd of tradespeople. Each artisan worked with focus and skill, their simple clothes showing their practical way of life. He paused now and then, taking in the scene of shared effort. A blacksmith hammered glowing metal, with sparks flying like tiny stars. Their tools clanked in a rhythm, echoing off the old walls. Nearby, a weaver’s shuttle moved back and forth, weaving threads into complex patterns. Theo nodded in respect, Surrounded by their efforts and the spirit of teamwork, Theo watched them interact, noticing the small nods and smiles they shared. The workers, dressed in practical clothes marked by honest labor, took pride in their craft. . These talented artisans, masters of age-old techniques, made their products with great skill. Theo watched a potter shape clay on a spinning wheel. Nearby, a weaver’s loom clattered as fibers turned into fabric, the shuttle moving back and forth. The rich smells of earth and dye filled the air, underscored by the steady hum of activity. It seemed like a place of creation, where hands transformed raw materials into living objects. Theo walked toward the last set of elevators that would take him to Level Four. Murals covered the walls of the corridor, showing the history and triumphs of their community. They were a reminder of everything they had achieved together. As he stepped into the elevator, the air became cooler, and a calm, peaceful feeling settled over him. The elevator doors slid open with a soft sound, revealing Level Four. Just as he stepped out, an expectant mother passed by, drawing his attention. Her round belly, full of new life, was a symbol of hope for their future. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Theo’s face softened. He gave her a small nod, showing that he understood. They didn’t need to speak; the look between them was enough. It was a quiet exchange, a shared sense of humanity that tied them together. As the elevator doors closed behind him, Theo couldn’t help but smile. He thought of mornings in the kitchen, the smell of fresh bread filling the air. Sophia’s laughter mixed with the soft sound of Lilith’s voice. Those moments, so simple and yet so full of joy, warmed his heart. Nostalgia washed over him, pulling him into memories of his family. He missed them deeply, missed the comfort of being with them. He longed to hold Sophia close, to feel the softness of her yellow vest, always stuffed with little treasures she had collected. She was their light, the hope that kept him going, even through the hardest parts of his work in the Community. “The sun sets only to rise again,” he whispered into the stillness of the elevator. It was an old phrase Lilith often used. Theo held onto those words. Theo’s ascent to the fourth floor was quiet and serious. When his transportation stopped and the doors opened, he stepped into a place of complete silence. The tranquility presented a stark difference to the bustling scene he had departed from. Theo walked a few steps forward, heading toward the Discontinuity Bridge that led to the residential area on the fourth floor. The archway stood tall, an old pathway to a more welcoming place. As he stepped onto the bridge, the air around him seemed to change, carrying a sense of the past with it. As he continued, strange sensations greeted him. His vision became blurry, as if a soft mist had covered everything around him. Warmth flowed over his legs, rising and falling, but his upper body stayed cool. The whole experience felt dreamlike, leaving Theo feeling slightly lost. He walked for a bit. Theo’s hands contacted the rough stone walls, sensing the grooves and cracks as he made his way to the Discontinuity Bridge. Along the route, abandoned workshops surrounded him, their machines idle and covered in cobwebs. Each one held memories, with tools concealed but dignified, blanketed in a layer of dust, reminders of past disasters. Yet, even here, beauty thrived from strength and endurance. Theo sensed it in his chest, The hearts of a few held echoes of innovation and unity in this place. Theo sighed, thinking about the early settlers and the challenges they had faced—resource shortages, conflicts within the group, and constant dangers from the outside. Yet, the Community not only survived but grew stronger through cooperation. He paused, his dark eyes catching the soft glow of the bioluminescent plants hanging from the ceiling. Their light gently lit the path ahead. With each step, Theo thought about the innovations that had kept them alive. The Visionaries had foresight, and the tradespeople worked hard. Their success wasn’t just luck; it came from shared effort and determination, proving the power of the human spirit. “May we never forget,” Theo whispered to the shadows, “the cost of our peace and the worth of our victories.” His quiet vow was to honor the past and improve the future. Standing under the dim light of the plants and the faint glow from the Lumenwells above, Theo felt at peace in the heart of the residential area. He was home.