Chapter 8

  POV: Ebony

  Seven years had passed in the Dome, and it wasn’t until a sudden, unsettling thought crossed my mind that I noticed something was wrong. It struck me like a cold gust of wind—sharp, unexpected, and sending a chill down my spine. I was going about my usual routine, lost in the motions of survival, when the realization hit: zero-zero-one-three was gone.

  I stopped mid-step, my mind racing. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

  "Instructor," I called, my voice steady but insistent as I approached the man who had overseen so much of our lives here. "Where is zero-zero-one-three?"

  The instructor glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "Who?" he asked, clearly struggling to place the number.

  I pressed on, trying to jog his memory. "You know," I continued, my tone sharp, "the trash... the weakest initiate in the Dome."

  His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, his expression blank. "Weird... we had someone like that, but I don’t remember," he finally admitted, his tone uncertain. "Your power allows you perfect memory, doesn’t it?"

  "Yes," I confirmed, the unease in my chest growing tighter. My memory was flawless, etched into my mind with perfect clarity. I could recall every single detail of every day I had spent in the Dome since the moment I arrived. The fact that the instructor, who had overseen all of us, couldn’t remember someone so consistently present—no matter how insignificant—was unsettling, to say the least.

  The instructor nodded slowly, his gaze distant as he considered my words. "I will have to talk to my superior," he said, turning away.

  I watched him go, the nagging sense of wrongness creeping up my spine. Zero-zero-one-three had always been the weakest, the one who never fought back. He was the one everyone else overlooked, dismissed, and perhaps even mocked. But now, he was gone. Not just absent, but erased from memory—his very existence seemingly wiped away, like a stain that had been scrubbed out of history.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him. Had he broken under the pressure? Had he finally snapped and been discarded like the worthless thing the Order had always treated him as? The thought lingered in my mind, gnawing at me. In this place, even the faintest flicker of existence could be snuffed out without a trace.

  Four hours later, the instructor returned. His face was different—no longer the usual stern mask, but something darker, more somber. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

  "When did you start noticing this?" he asked, his tone sharp and focused.

  "Just recently," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing unease in my chest.

  The instructor studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing before he spoke again, his voice low and deliberate. "He escaped."

  My breath caught in my throat. "What!?" The word slipped out before I could stop it, my shock evident.

  "We have no idea when," he continued, his expression grim. "Don’t get any funny ideas, and don’t share this with anyone, or it’ll be your neck on the chopping block. Upper management doesn’t want your fellow initiates getting any ideas either, so keep this to yourself. Escaping the Order would be the highest folly."

  The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. Escape? It had never even occurred to me as a possibility. We were all trained to survive, to be strong, to follow orders without question. The thought of someone actually managing to escape the Order was beyond belief—suicidal, even. No one ever left the Dome. It was impossible. Yet here was the instructor, confirming the unthinkable.

  "I... I understand," I stammered, trying to wrap my mind around what I had just learned.

  The instructor gave a curt nod, his eyes cold and calculating as he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my thoughts a whirlpool of confusion and unease. Zero-zero-one-three, the boy I had always considered weaker than myself, had somehow escaped the Dome. How? And more importantly, why? What had driven him to take such a dangerous step? What had he seen that I hadn’t?

  For the next few days, I couldn’t shake the thought of zero-zero-one-three. His disappearance gnawed at me, digging into my mind, making me question everything I thought I knew about this place. The secrecy surrounding it only made things worse. The unanswered questions kept buzzing in my mind, relentless and maddening.

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I sought out the instructor again, my patience worn thin.

  "Instructor," I began, my voice tinged with frustration, "what if the others notice too and start asking questions? Why even tell me he escaped? You could have just said he was killed for not producing results! Tell me the truth!"

  The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface finally bubbled over. The idea that the "trash" had managed to escape, something I had never dared to even think about for myself, left me feeling vulnerable, exposed. I was trained to suppress my emotions, but the pressure had built up too much.

  The instructor met my outburst with the same calm, detached demeanor he always had. "Because threatening you will yield better results," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "They won’t know unless you talk. Only you know he’s missing. I and upper management didn’t even realize it… Only three people know this—you, me, and my direct superior."

  I stared at him, my mind racing, trying to make sense of the tangled web of lies and half-truths. "How?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "How did he do it?"

  "Zero-zero-one-three’s power is a hypnosis variant that allows him to make people forget," the instructor explained. "He showed promise when he was first introduced to the revised project... thanks to his psychosis being suppressed."

  "Psychosis?" I echoed, a chill running down my spine.

  "Yes," he confirmed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "From his failure to survive his shedding."

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  The term "shedding" sent a shiver through me. We all knew what it meant. It was the process that pushed us to the brink of insanity, a dangerous threshold where survival could grant us powers—or turn us into something monstrous. But it was the failure to survive that made the difference. If you failed, you didn’t just die. You became a psychotic weapon, a monster in the eyes of the Order.

  The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Zero-zero-one-three had been living on borrowed time. A ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off. His escape wasn’t just a fluke. It was a testament to the chaos that lay just beneath the surface of the Dome—a chaos the Order tried so hard to control.

  And somehow, zero-zero-one-three had broken free.

  Seven years had passed since Lois first noticed the absence of zero-zero-one-three. It wasn’t something that registered at first, but as time wore on, it hit her like a cold gust of wind, chilling her to the bone. She had gone through her daily routine, when the thought crept into her mind, refusing to let go. Where was he?

  "Instructor," she called, her voice steady but laced with a quiet urgency. She approached the man who had been the constant overseer of their lives in the Dome. "Where is zero-zero-one-three?"

  The instructor looked at her, confusion written across his face. "Who?" he asked, his tone implying he had trouble recalling the number.

  Lois pressed on, frustration rising. "You know... the trash. The weakest initiate."

  He paused, brow furrowing in thought. "Weird... we had someone like that, but I don’t remember," he finally admitted, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Your power allows you perfect memory, doesn’t it?"

  "Yes," Lois replied, unease twisting in her gut. Her memory was flawless—every detail, every moment of every day spent in the Dome was etched in her mind. Yet, the fact that the instructor couldn’t remember someone who had been a constant presence, however insignificant, left her feeling unsettled.

  The instructor nodded slowly, as if mulling over her words. "I’ll talk to my superior," he said, turning away. His voice grew distant, leaving Lois alone with her growing unease.

  Zero-zero-one-three had been the weakest, the one who never fought back. He had been a reminder of the price of failure, of what happened to those who couldn’t survive in this brutal place. Now, he was gone, as if erased from the very fabric of the Dome, and from the memories of those around him.

  Lois couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Had he finally broken under the pressure? Had the Dome discarded him like a piece of trash? The thought gnawed at her.

  Four hours later, the instructor returned, his face lacking its usual sternness. There was a shadow in his expression, one that made Lois’s heart beat a little faster. He didn’t waste any time.

  "When did you start noticing this?" he asked, his voice sharp and focused.

  "Just recently," Lois replied, doing her best to mask the unease that had been steadily growing inside her since their last conversation.

  The instructor met her gaze for a long moment, before his voice dropped to a low murmur. "He escaped."

  Lois’s breath caught in her throat. "What!?" The word slipped out before she could stop it, shock lacing her tone.

  "We have no idea when," the instructor continued, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t get any funny ideas, and don’t share this with anyone. It’ll be your neck on the chopping block. Upper management doesn’t want your fellow initiates getting any ideas, so keep this to yourself. Escaping the Order is the highest folly."

  The weight of his words hit Lois like a ton of bricks. She had never even considered the possibility of escape. Survival, obedience, and following orders without question—that was the only life she had ever known. The thought of someone actually breaking free seemed impossible, suicidal even.

  "I... I understand," Lois stammered, her mind reeling from the implications.

  The instructor gave a curt nod and left, leaving her standing there, her thoughts spinning. Zero-zero-one-three, the boy she had once considered weaker than herself, had somehow managed to break free. It was almost unthinkable. Yet it had happened.

  As she watched him walk away, Lois couldn’t help but wonder what had driven zero-zero-one-three to take such a dangerous step. More importantly, she wondered if he had succeeded in finding the freedom they all secretly yearned for, but never dared to pursue.

  For the next few days, Lois couldn’t shake the thoughts of zero-zero-one-three. His disappearance haunted her, unsettling her already fragile peace. The unanswered questions buzzed in her mind, and the secrecy surrounding the situation only made it worse. Eventually, unable to bear it any longer, she confronted the instructor once again.

  "Instructor," Lois began, frustration tinging her voice, "what if the others notice too and start asking questions? Why even tell me he escaped? You could have just said he was killed for not producing results. Tell me the truth!"

  Her anger flared, the tension that had been building inside her finally spilling over. She had been trained to suppress her emotions, but even she wasn’t immune to the strain of years in the Dome. Her outburst was a long time coming.

  The instructor, unfazed, met her challenge with calm detachment. "Because threatening you will yield better results," he said matter-of-factly. "They won’t know unless you talk. Only you know he’s missing. I and upper management didn’t even realize it… Only three people know this—you, me, and my direct superior."

  Lois stared at him, her mind racing. "How?" she asked, the question spilling from her lips. "How did he do it?"

  The instructor’s eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Zero-zero-one-three’s power is a hypnosis variant that allows him to make people forget. He showed promise when he was first introduced to the revised project... thanks to his psychosis being suppressed."

  "Psychosis?" Lois echoed, a cold shiver running down her spine.

  "Yes," the instructor confirmed, his voice hardening. "From his failure to survive his shedding."

  The term "shedding" hit Lois like a physical blow. It was a process known to all of them. It happened when a person reached a specific "state of mind," triggered by the so-called "Insanity Gene"—a hidden gene that represented the soul itself. For unpowered individuals, the first shedding was always a matter of life or death.

  Lois swallowed hard, understanding the weight of the instructor’s words. The shedding could grant superpowers if the person survived. But if they didn’t? They turned into a monster—an unrestrained psychopath with superhuman abilities.

  The realization struck her like a punch to the gut. Zero-zero-one-three had been living on borrowed time. His escape wasn’t just a fluke; it was a testament to the chaos lurking beneath the surface of the Dome, a place designed to strip away their humanity and turn them into weapons for the Order.

  Lois’s voice was barely a whisper. "Why are you telling me this?"

  The instructor’s gaze hardened, and his words came with chilling finality. "Because you show promise."

  Three years after leaving the Dome, Lois finally escaped. Freedom, however, was not the relief she had imagined. Instead, it was the beginning of a new nightmare. On the run, she was hunted by a government hell-bent on dragging her back.

  All she wanted was a normal life. Was that too much to ask?

  At first, survival was a constant battle. Every day was a struggle. But over time, Lois found small joys. She met new people who became friends, jumped from one planet to another, fought against the Order that once controlled her every move, and saw things she never could have imagined back in that cold, sterile facility. She tasted strange foods, experienced new cultures, and slowly, without realizing it, she became too good at running. So good that the government eventually reduced their resources chasing her.

  She was still a fugitive, but life had become a strange dance of evasion and exploration. In some ways, it was almost peaceful.

  One day, as she sat in her latest hideout—a small, dingy room on a far-off colony—the radio crackled to life. "It is thirteen minutes before four o’clock in the afternoon," the announcer droned on.

  Lois switched the channel, seeking some distraction from the silence. The static cleared, and a familiar tune filled the air.

  "Take me to the magic of the moment, on a glory night…"

  A faint smile touched Lois’s lips as the song played. She couldn’t resist joining in, her voice soft at first, then louder as the chorus approached.

  "Where the fighters of tomorrow dream away…"

  "Dream away…" the radio echoed back.

  "In the winds of change," Lois finished, her voice blending with the music.