I've heard stories of when we lived on the surface, when humanity was spread across distant continents and not crammed into these tight quarters.
In those stories, we were at the pinnacle of all life on Earth. We were thriving.
That sounds far-fetched, if you ask me.
Flying through the skies in metal contraptions, living in buildings that touched the clouds, only to nearly destroy it all in the name of proving who had the bigger gun.
Ptfff. Most successful race, my foot.
I'd done it again.
Slipped into that cycle of thought.
I guess the frustration of always being that one, the weird one, was finally starting to get to me.
Why couldn't I get it to work as I imagined? Even once.
Most other Shapers my age already understood their abilities.
From what we're taught, once you awaken, it's like your power just clicks—hardwired into your brain, like it was always there, just waiting.
But not for me.
I set my mind back on the task at hand, hauling scraps from the training zone to the salvage facility. So they could either be fixed... or repurposed.
Punishment for being "excessively aggressive."
Funny. It hadn't seemed to matter when I was the one getting shoved around.
It wasn't intentional, though.
It just... happened.
.
.
Two hours later, I'm finally done.
Time to head home and call it a day.
I fill out the required drop-off forms, sign where needed, and hand them over to Tam.
He looks at me with a stupid grin on his face.
"You know, when we found out you awakened and I didn't, I figured I wouldn't get to see you much anymore.
Funny how I still get to see you almost every other day, with how often you get into trouble."
"Haha. Funny." I say, "When's your shift ending?"
"Still got three hours till I clock out."
"Okay, see you around, man. I'm exhausted."
"And I'm Tam, nice to meet you, Exhausted."
I stare at him for a few seconds, face flat. Then shake my head and walk away, his laughter trailing behind me.
.
.
It's impossible to tell day from night in the sanctum.
I've never seen real daylight, so I can't say for sure what it's like, but I'm certain it's a lot better than the bio-lamps that line the walls.
They hummed overhead, artificial as everything else.
Days here are divided into three periods : active, mid, and curfew.
It's almost curfew now. The bio-lamps have shifted to a dim orange glow, a stark contrast from the bright blue of the active period.
That orange makes everything feel... tired. Like even the walls are ready to shut down.
.
.
There's no buying or selling in the Sanctum.
Everything is provided by the administration through its five ministries.
Culture and Knowledge Acquisition, Agriculture, Defense, Resources, and the Parliament.
I stop by a requisition station to trade some credits for rations. Noticed this morning we were running low at home.
Lucky for me, the queue isn't long.
Just a few workers returning from duty.
Further down the path, a squad of soldiers on patrol marches by, stiff and straight-faced. Boots clicking, eyes forward.
You'd think their job of keeping us in was such a serious one.
It's not like we had anywhere else to go.
Life within the sanctum was hard.
But I'd pick it ten times over living out there where even the plants are vicious and the rain can melt through steel.
Out there, survival isn't hard.
It's nearly impossible.
.
.
"Next"
Time to make my request.
"Can I get five liters of milk, three pounds of beans, and a jar of honey?"
"That'd be 50SC," the attendant says.
I tap my wristband against the console, syncing with the station's server.
"Good evening, sir."
I always get that tone when they realize I'm in the Evolved Human Program.
A little stiffer. A little more formal.
Like they're not sure how to treat me.
"Would you like to use the trainee discount?"
"No, there's no need."
Ever since I became a Shaper, I've been credited twice what most people earn in a week, every single day.
It's generous, too generous. I wonder if it's meant to reward me... or tame me.
Like they think comfort will keep me obedient.
Just because I'm different doesn't mean I'm better.
And it sure as hell doesn't mean I'm theirs.
.
.
"I'm home," I say, pushing open the door to our standard two-bedroom unit.
I share a room with my younger brother, June, who just turned twelve. The other room belongs to Ana, our grandmother.
"Shhh," June whispers, holding a finger to his lips. "Nana's telling me a story."
From the other room, I hear her soft chuckle.
"Welcome home Kaelen."
I drop the supplies in the kitchen, then head toward them
I probably know the story word for word by now...
But I guess it wouldn't hurt to hear it one more time.