## Iteration
The rain slicked the ferrocrete pavement, reflecting the dull orange glow of the calibration lamps. Each drop tasted like rust and something vaguely floral, a ghost scent from before the Skyfall. My breath plumed out, visible against the pervasive dampness. Twenty-seven cycles. That’s what the geODE registered in my wrist implant – twenty-seven bursts of inherited memory, twenty-seven glimpses into the lives of my ancestors. A paltry sum compared to some lineages.
“Still staring at it, Wren?”
I didn’t turn. Kael leaned against the doorway of the noodle stall, his face obscured by the shadow of his hood. His voice held that familiar mix of amusement and something… protective?
“Just thinking about it,” I mumbled, tapping the smooth surface of my wrist. The geODE pulsed faintly beneath my fingers. “Twenty-seven is… small.”
Kael pushed himself off the frame and joined me in the downpour. He didn’s bother with an umbrella; he simply shrugged, as if rain were something decorative. “Small enough to be overlooked? Small enough to fade?”
I met his gaze, the orange lamplight catching in the silver of my eyes. “Exactly.” My own reflection stared back, a fragile thing swallowed by the gloom.
“And you don’t like that?”
“I want more.” The words felt inadequate, a clumsy admission of longing. “Something to anchor me, something beyond the echoes.”
Kael’s lips quirked. “Always ambitious, you are.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’ve always felt… disconnected. Like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong box. The Iterats, those fleeting visions of lives lived and lost, felt like fragments, tantalizing glimpses that never quite coalesced into a whole.
“They say the High Priests control access, calibrate it all,” I continued, ignoring his teasing. “Some lineages get enhanced bursts. Full Iterats.”
He pushed a strand of damp hair from his forehead, the movement deliberate, almost secretive. “Legends.”
“My father believed in them,” I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “He searched for a way.”
My father disappeared five cycles ago, swallowed by the labyrinthine tunnels of the Conversion Sectors. Officially, he was lost to a structural collapse. I never accepted it.
The bell above the noodle stall chimed as a figure hurried inside, shaking rain from a patched-up cloak. An old woman with eyes like polished obsidian, her face etched with the history of countless cycles, fixed me with a penetrating stare.
“Wren Lyra,” she stated, her voice raspy and devoid of inflection. “The Calibration Council summons you.”
My stomach lurched. The Council rarely interacted with those outside their inner circle—the priesthood, the engineers who maintained the geODE network, and a handful of favored lineages.
“What for?” I asked, my voice tight with apprehension.
She didn’t elaborate. “Be prompt.” Then she turned, disappearing into the dim interior as quickly as she’d appeared.
Kael’s hand tightened on my arm, a silent reassurance. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“Nothing ever does,” I retorted, pulling away to face the rain-swept street. “But what choice do we have?”
The Calibration Council chamber was a cathedral of black-chlor algae, its surfaces shimmering with an unsettling bioluminescence. The air hummed with a low frequency vibration that seemed to resonate within my bones. At the far end, elevated on a dais constructed of swirling algae formations, sat three figures shrouded in somber robes.
One of them spoke, his voice amplified and distorted by the chamber’s acoustics. “Wren Lyra. You are deemed… suitable.”
Suitable? For what?
“We have observed your… inquiries,” the voice continued. “Your persistent questioning regarding Iterat augmentation.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “My father believed…”
“Your father was… misguided,” another voice interrupted, sharper and more dismissive. “His research destabilized several vital sectors.”
“He was searching for truth!” I snapped, ignoring the tremor that threatened to shake my voice.
“Truth is a luxury we cannot afford,” the first voice stated, its tone devoid of emotion. “But… your connection to him presents an opportunity.”
“An opportunity for what?”
The Council pointed to a shimmering pool of liquid black-chlor. It pulsed with an eerie light, its surface undisturbed despite the chamber’s constant vibrations. “This is a Resonance Conduit,” one of the Council members explained. “A direct link to a dormant Iterat, belonging to lineage Primus—the first documented cycle of our society.”
My breath hitched. Primus was a legend, a myth whispered among scholars and heretics—the original source from which all Iterats flowed. A complete, unadulterated glimpse into the dawn of humanity.
“We require a conduit,” the voice stated, its tone leaving no room for argument. “Someone with latent sensitivity to Iterat flow.”
My gaze darted to Kael, who stood silently near the entrance, his face unreadable.
“You possess that sensitivity, Wren Lyra,” the voice continued. “We offer you a chance to experience Primus firsthand.”
A shiver traced its way down my spine, a mixture of fear and exhilaration. This was the answer to everything I’d ever sought—a connection, an anchor, a glimpse beyond the fragmented echoes of my past.
“At what cost?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“The process is… invasive,” the first Council member admitted, his tone carefully neutral. “It requires a temporary severance from your current Iterat flow.”
My blood ran cold. A severance? To step outside my own lineage, to temporarily relinquish my identity…
“And if I refuse?”
“Refusal is not an option,” the voice stated flatly. “The stability of this sector—of our society—depends on it.”
My gaze locked onto Kael’s, searching for some sign of understanding, a shared sense of dread. But his expression remained impassive.
“And what happens afterwards?”
“You will return, changed,” the voice concluded. “Your Iterat flow will be… recalibrated.”
Recalibrated. The word felt ominous, a threat disguised as an assurance. I imagined being molded, reshaped to fit the Council’s agenda.
“What if I don’t like being recalibrated?”
A dry, mirthless chuckle echoed through the chamber. “You have no choice.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. This wasn’t a choice; it was an ultimatum. Surrender my will, or risk whatever consequences the Council deemed necessary.
“And what about you?” I asked, gesturing towards Kael with a tremor in my hand.
The Council ignored me, their focus solely on me.
“Prepare the Conduit,” one of them commanded. “Begin the severance sequence.”
Two cloaked figures moved forward, their faces hidden in shadow. They approached me with a disconcerting silence, their movements precise and purposeful.
I turned to Kael, desperate for some sign of resistance, a shared act of defiance. But his face remained a mask, and when our eyes finally met, I saw something unfamiliar there – an acceptance that chilled me to the bone.
“Kael?” I whispered, my voice cracking with confusion and fear.
He didn’t respond. His gaze held an unwavering resolve that felt… alien.
The figures seized my arms, their grip surprisingly strong. I struggled against them, but my efforts were futile. Their movements were swift and efficient, their purpose undeniable.
“Don’t do this,” I pleaded, my voice a desperate cry lost in the cavernous chamber.
But they didn’t hear me, or if they did, they didn’t care.
As the severance sequence began, a wave of disorientation washed over me. My senses blurred, my vision fractured into countless shards of light and shadow. The familiar thrum of my own Iterat flow began to fade, replaced by an unsettling emptiness.
A single thought pierced through the chaos—a desperate yearning for Kael, a silent promise to find him again.
Then, darkness consumed me.
I awoke to the sensation of cold, slick algae against my skin. The chamber was different somehow—smaller, more intimate. A single calibration lamp cast long shadows across the walls, illuminating a small pool of black-chlor, its surface shimmering with an eerie light.
My mind felt… blank. A vast emptiness where memories and identities should have been. I reached for my wrist, instinctively searching for the familiar pulse of my geODE implant.
It was gone.
A voice echoed from behind me, soft and unfamiliar yet somehow… comforting.
“Welcome back, Wren.”
I turned to face the speaker. It was Kael—but he wasn’t the same. His eyes held a depth I’d never seen before, a quiet intensity that sent shivers down my spine. He wore the robes of a High Priest, the black-chlor algae shimmering against his skin like captured starlight.
“Kael?” I whispered, my voice raspy and barely audible. “What happened? What did they do to me?”
He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “You experienced Primus,” he stated, his voice resonating with a newfound authority. “You witnessed the dawn of our society.”
“And you?” I asked, my gaze darting nervously around the chamber. “What about you?”
He smiled – a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sent a fresh wave of disorientation washing over me.
“I was chosen as well,” he replied, his voice dripping with a quiet triumph. “We are… reborn.”
My heart plummeted to my stomach. Reborn? What did that mean?
“What have they done?” I asked, my voice trembling with a growing sense of dread.
“They have aligned us,” he stated, his gaze piercing and unwavering. “Aligned our Iterat flows, merging them into a single stream.”
My mind struggled to comprehend his words. Merged? Into what?
“We are the new Iterat,” he continued, his voice resonating with a quiet power. “The culmination of all that has come before.”
I stared at him, my mind reeling. He was no longer the man I knew – not Kael, the sardonic rebel who’s always challenged everything. He was something… else entirely.
He reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek with a gentle touch. “Join me, Wren,” he whispered, his voice filled with an irresistible allure. “Embrace our destiny.”
But the warmth faded as I remembered the man, the friend… or whoever he once was.
I stepped backward, away from his outstretched hand, and the man I thought I knew.
“No,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “I won’t.”
His expression didn’t change, his eyes remained calm and unwavering. But a flicker of something—disappointment? Regret?—crossed his face, gone as quickly as it appeared.
“You will understand in time,” he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. “You always do.”
I fixed him with a defiant gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t know what the future held – not anymore. But one thing was certain: I would not surrender to their control, not now, not ever.
I turned and fled, my footsteps echoing through the silent chamber. I didn’t know where I was going, but one thing filled me with a resolute certainty.
I would find a way to break free, to reclaim my identity – and to avenge the friend I once knew. The rain still smelled of metal, a constant reminder of what was lost—and what I would fight to reclaim.
The calibration lamps cast an orange glow onto the corridors of the facility, and I took my first step into a future unknown.
