Third Person
Berlin loomed ahead, its skyline a fusion of sleek glass towers and austere concrete structures. As the train pulled into the station, Cyto and Allelea exchanged glances. The city was different—sterile, almost clinical.
The platform was pristine, devoid of the usual graffiti or discarded coffee cups. People moved with purpose, their faces expressionless. The BioSync Network had left its mark here, its invisible web woven into every corner of Berlin.
“Feels like stepping into a bottle of sanitizer,” Allelea whispered, her fingers brushing the Microbial Defense Initiative pamphlet in her pocket.
Cyto nodded. “It’s like the city itself has become a living organism, obsessed with purity.”
As they stepped onto the escalator, they noticed the BioSync scanners—sleek, silver arches that bathed passengers in a soft blue light. The sensors analyzed them, ensuring they posed no threat to the city’s sterile balance.
A uniformed officer approached, her eyes scanning their Visas. “Welcome to Berlin,” she said, her tone devoid of warmth. “Remember to maintain biosecurity protocols at all times.”
They nodded, their hearts racing. The resistance awaited them—the underground network of rebels who dared to defy the BioSync Network. But how would they find them? Who could they trust?
As they emerged into the city, the streets stretched before them—wide, empty, and eerily quiet. The once-vibrant neighborhoods now felt like sterile corridors. Allelea glanced at the people passing by, their faces masked, their movements precise.
“Where do we even begin?” she murmured.
Cyto’s gaze settled on a graffiti-covered wall. “Maybe the rebels are hidden in plain sight,” he said. “Symbols, messages—they’ll lead us.”
They walked, eyes scanning for signs. And then, beside an ordinary building, they saw it—a tiny, defiant sprout of green breaking through the concrete. A symbol of life in a sterile world.
“Follow the green,” Cyto said, determination in his eyes. “It’s our only chance.”
Berlin held secrets—the kind that could unravel the very fabric of their altered existence. As they stepped into the heart of the city, they knew they were walking a tightrope between safety and rebellion.
Cyto and Allelea followed its lead, tracing its path through the city’s monochrome streets. Each twist and turn brought them closer to the heart of the rebellion.
The sprout led them to hidden alleys, where graffiti artists had etched symbols into the walls—cryptic messages meant only for those who dared to see beyond the sterile surface. Allelea deciphered one: a leaf intertwined with a lightning bolt—a fusion of life and energy.
Cyto’s fingers brushed against another symbol—a helix entwined with a flame. “DNA and fire,” he mused. “A rebellion fueled by the very essence of existence.”
They encountered others along the way—secret glances exchanged with strangers who wore their defiance like armor. A woman selling her wares in a corner stall nodded at them, her eyes revealing more than words ever could. A man sweeping the sidewalk paused, his broom tracing an invisible pattern—a signal, perhaps.
Allelea smiled, as she nudged Cyto gently. “Look at this, babe. There’s a café over there, like in Paris. How about we stop for lunch?”
“I wonder if we’ll run into any other odd characters,” Cyto replied. “Maybe there’s another pair like Selena and Gallus here, to provide us a free Netflix drama. Or it’s a completely different show altogether.”
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Allelea
We entered the café, feeling the nostalgia hitting hard as we walked up to the counter to order our food. While we were ordering, we heard a sudden blast of loud music play.
The artist’s voice reached my ears, tugging at memories I couldn’t quite grasp. I glanced around, searching for the source. That’s when I saw him—the young man fumbling with his AirPods, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. His struggle to connect them was endearing, and I couldn’t help but smile.
As if sensing my curiosity, Cyto leaned closer. “Recognize the song?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”
The young man finally succeeded, and the music enveloped him. His eyes closed briefly, lost in the melody.
Cyto nudged me. “Maybe we should talk to him,” he urged. “He could help us.”
I approached him, heart racing. “Excuse me,” I said, gesturing to the AirPods. “Great taste in music.”
He blinked, surprised by my sudden intrusion. “Oh, thanks.” His accent hinted at a mix of cultures—like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
“Writing something?” I asked, nodding at the notebook tucked away beneath his shoulder.
His eyes widened. “You noticed?”
I chuckled. “I used to journal, so I know how I used to clutch my important notes. The name’s Allelea. He’s Cyto.”
“Lead,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”
“Lead,” I repeated. “Interesting name. Never heard it before.”
He shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
“Long stories are the best,” I said. “What’s yours about?”
He hesitated, then leaned in. “Time travel,” he whispered. “Lost memories. A storm that reshaped everything. I’ve had the story in me for months now, but… just got around to putting it on paper.”
“Cool, can I please see it?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Lead shrugged. “Sure, why not?” he said, handing me the book. I flipped it open to the first page, and started to read. “I’ll save you some time and get to the good part.” he said, flipping it to somewhere in the early-middle parts.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized that Lysandra had once told Cyto and I the same story. “Were you once… radioactive?”
Lead’s eyes widened. “You know? And no… not really. I mean, C-14 is radioactive, but I’d never faced any issues related to it. So I’m not sure.”
I nodded. “I do… I heard about it from… someone. She was a professor in this college you wrote about. Radioactives are the only ones who remember now. And while I don’t think Cyto and I were ever radioactive, we do know.”
“A professor? Hmm, who is it?”
“She had helium, definitely. Goes by Lysandra now.” Cyto answered.
“Professor Helietta?” Lead asked, brows furrowing slightly. “Our Elemental Manipulation professor.”
“Yeah. How’d you-”
“As you can probably tell by now, all our names are mostly related to our elements. Take my friends, for example, Thalia — thallium, Gallus — gallium, Selena — selenium.” Lead replied, with a matter-of-fact tone. “Mine, too. Your names in the old world probably would have related to whatever your elements were.”
Recognition flickered in my mind as Lead mentioned the names. Thalia, Gallus, Selena—elements of a forgotten tableau that now surged to the forefront of my memory.
“Selena and Gallus,” I murmured, the puzzle pieces clicking into place. “We met them on our first day in France. They were… different from what you describe. I don’t know if these are the same people, but based on your descriptions they may be the ones.”
Lead’s expression shifted, a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Different how?”
“They weren’t lovers, or even friends, but enemies,” I explained. “Caught in a web of enmity, seeking the truth behind a photograph that suggested a deeper connection.”
Lead leaned back, absorbing the information. “A photograph?!” he echoed. “Do you know anything more? Did they tell you,”
Cyto shook his head. “No… nothing much. It was just some group photograph with them seeming really friendly, to put it lightly.”
“One was set late at night during a study session, and the other, a selfie…” Lead added, the memories flowing in. “Wow, this… this is incredible! Wait — Gallus was radioactive. Maybe he remembers!”
“Maybe… or, he has no idea. He looked pretty clueless about the photo, and so did Selena,” Allelea recalled, her tone softening. “He may be an exception.”
“Then, we need to make him remember!” Lead chirped, his heart racing at all the implications of this. “Thank you guys so much! This was amazing. W-we should keep in touch. I’ll give you my number, hang on. Please tell me if you hear any more about my friends. I’ll send the story so you know more about them.”
Lead scribbled his number on a napkin, his hand trembling slightly with the weight of revelations. “Here,” he said, sliding it across the table. “Call me if anything comes up. Anything at all.”
I pocketed the napkin, feeling the digits press against my fingers like a lifeline to the past. “We will,” I promised. “And we’re eager to read your story. It might help us understand more about this… connection.”
He nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ll email it to you. Check your inbox later today.”
As Lead packed up his belongings, the café’s atmosphere seemed to shift. The air was charged with possibility, with the potential of untangling a history that had been lost to time.
Cyto and I exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between us. We were in this together, bound by a quest that was larger than ourselves.
“Good luck, Lead,” I called out as he headed for the door.
He paused, turning back with a smile. “Luck is just the beginning,” he said. “We’re rewriting history.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving us in the café with our thoughts and the echo of a promise.
As the door closed behind him, a sudden chill swept through the room. The music that had once filled the space seemed distant now, as if the notes were being pulled into the past.
I looked at Cyto, his eyes reflecting the storm of emotions that raged within me. “What now?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “Now, we wait. We wait for Lead’s story, and we prepare for what’s to come. Because something tells me this is just the beginning.”
The café’s clock ticked loudly, marking the passage of time. And as we sat there, the world outside continued on, oblivious to the storm that was brewing just beneath the surface.
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