HEINA III

I couldn’t bear it. I reread the same sentence in my journal five times and couldn’t remember a word of it–unable to rid the thought that the system might be not what it seems. That Heina was controlled by something larger than I was taught to believe in. 

I’d walk past a mirror in my apartment hallway and grimace at my reflection. My eyes would race to find my index number, lingering for a tad too long, as if reassuring myself it wouldn’t flicker again. I tried to ignore it, I really did. I journalled, listened to music–tried every method to calm down–even meditated for a while. But nothing could drown out the quiet hum of the Argus bots outside, like a constant reminder that led to me wondering over and over again in my thoughts; is it the system, or me? 

As a last resort, I decided to breathe some fresh air. Pulled back the curtains, opened the ranch slider, and leant myself against the balcony railing. I took a moment to simply admire the view of Heina from above. The streets buzzed below with traffic, conversation, and the distant wail of sirens. People rushed between buildings, eager to return home. Normal. Painfully normal. 

 

Then finally–my pupils grazed the sky. 

At first, I didn’t think much of it. But the longer I stared, the more I started noticing things I probably shouldn’t have. Stars would appear and disappear out of nowhere; constellations would shift; clouds moved unnaturally. All of a sudden, the darkness felt too deep. No moon either. New moon perhaps? No, highly improbable… we haven’t had a new moon since the mortal ages. 

And this time, I started questioning: did the sky always look like that?

No. Surely I must be crazy–snap back into reality, Stop looking at the sky. Stop looking at your reflection. Fall asleep, and forget this all. Knowing me, however, I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while. 

 

—

I managed to pluck my eyeballs away from the sky after a good 10-15 minutes–though it could’ve easily been longer than that. Instead, they were focused on the street below again. If I thought the sky was explainable, I sure was struggling to explain why clocks started desynchronising. The time on my phone compared to the old clock tower was a solid 6 minutes behind (they were in sync yesterday, I’m sure). Streets seemed to stretch on for more than a few miles–and that Argus bot freezing up earlier? Yeah, that seemed to be happening a whole lot more often since then. 

What I really, really couldn’t explain though, was something I only ever saw in video games. 

People were repeating themselves. I’m not joking. Not similar conversations. The same conversations. Word for word. I heard a couple next door have the same argument about finances at least three times in the span of two hours. 

Okay. That’s it. 

I slammed the slider and drew the curtains once more. Pupils dilated, heart thrumming furiously against my chest, hands trembling, I collapsed onto my mattress. 

‘I must be insane’, I thought. 

And that night, I forced myself to sleep; hoping to hang onto the strips of sanity I had left. 

 

—

14th of May, 2158

My eyes peeled open early that morning and found their way toward a clock. 3:04am. Yeah–didn’t expect much sleep after the events of the day before. 

The sun had already risen. At least, I think it had. Rays leaked through the blinds, but it felt different somehow. Too still. Too perfect.

I stripped back my curtains for a moment, scanning the city below in my pj’s, when I saw it. The old subway track. Sealed by recklessly crafted security tape stating, “no entry”, and some loose rubble that had piled up over the past few decades. I’d been told stories about how the place was shut down ever since we invented the mortality index. Some say it was shut down due to a high-speed accident that collapsed half the railway system; some say they were renovating the place. But honestly? No one knows. If it truly was an accident, why haven’t they sent anyone down there yet? Why have they ignored the metro for centuries?

It’s become something we are taught to not talk about. 

Me, though–I’ve always wondered–what really is down there? 

— 

Looking back now, I wish I was less curious. 

—

Mask on tight, hoodie up, clothes black. This was risky, but at this point, I couldn’t get any more paranoid about the system anyway. 

I need to know what’s down there. Whether it be nothing, or whether it be something I couldn’t ever imagine. 

— 

The entrance wasn’t difficult to find–getting inside was. The security tape had long lost its adhesive. It flapped weakly in the breeze as I approached, visible warning signs underneath, covered by dirt and grime. I made sure to check around for any Argus bots before squirming through a crack in the concrete rubble, onto a staircase. 

Step by step, noises from the city above dimmed one by one. By the time I reached the end of the staircase, the silence was evident. I switched on the flashlight on my phone; the beam revealed layers of thick dust and mold, cracked tiles, and rusting rails. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing terrifying. Just abandoned. 

Yet somehow that felt worse. 

As if everyone just up and left at the exact same moment, and never came back. Benches were where they were supposed to be, advertisements still stuck to the walls (surprisingly). An old timetable hung above the tracks, frozen on one screen. 

There was no sign of a major accident. No ‘reconstruction’. 

But also no explanation. 

I moved further down the platform. Then I spotted a map of the rail lines.

Normal, at first glance. 

Then I looked closer. The routes were not familiar–at all. Entire districts were marked that didn’t exist anymore, some I’ve never even heard of. Right in the middle of the lines, though?

Two words: EARTH TRANSIT.

I stared for longer than necessary.

‘Earth’.

The word felt illegal, like something I shouldn’t recognise. 

A sudden crackle echoed through the tunnel. I spun around. 

Nothing. Just darkness.

But for the first time since entering the station, I realised I wasn’t alone.

Somewhere deeper in the tunnels, something was still running.