The message arrived before the alarm.
Daniel opened one eye.
06:04.
The phone screen lit the room.
A.E.E. — OPERATIONAL SUPPORT UNIT
SELECTION PROCESS
PHASE 1 — PASSED
It took Daniel a few seconds to react.
There was another line below.
OPERATIONAL TRAINING — INITIAL LEVEL
And a time.
REPORT AT: 07:30
Daniel closed his eyes again.
Five seconds.
He opened them.
It was still there.
“Right.”
He sat up.
Slowly this time.
His side still protested.
Much less than the day before.
He stood up.
The provisional vest was still on the chair.
U.A.O. — CANDIDATE
Daniel picked it up.
For the first time, he did not stop to look at the word.
He put it on.
Melisa was already there.
07:21.
Daniel checked the time.
Then looked at her.
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long.”
“How long is not long?”
Melisa did not answer.
Daniel saw the rucksack at her feet.
The clear bags were still inside.
All labelled.
“You came early.”
“So did you.”
“Nine minutes.”
“Me too.”
Daniel looked at her.
Melisa looked away.
“Twenty-seven.”
Daniel smiled.
“That’s hardly ‘not long’.”
“I wanted to know where everything was.”
“It was all here yesterday.”
“They could have moved it today.”
Daniel looked around.
The stretchers were still in the same place.
So were the first-aid kits.
“Danger averted.”
Melisa gave him a small nudge with her rucksack.
“Idiot.”
The main door opened.
“CANDIDATES!”
Both turned.
The same instructor as the day before came in with two other members of the A.E.E.
A screen displayed:
PHASE 2
OPERATIONAL TRAINING — INITIAL LEVEL
Daniel raised his head slightly.
The instructor stood in front of the group.
“Yesterday, some of you learnt that running doesn’t always help.”
Daniel looked straight ahead.
Melisa looked at him.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Right.”
The instructor continued.
“Today, you’re going to learn something worse.”
A pause.
“That doing your job properly may depend on someone else doing theirs.”
The screen changed.
JOINT OPERATIONS PROTOCOL
U.A.O. / PERSONNEL WITH AFFINITY
“You won’t work alone in a real operation.”
Different functions appeared.
Evacuation.
Communications.
Medical care.
Reconnaissance.
Containment.
Operational support.
“And you won’t work only with personnel from your own unit.”
Seven codes appeared on the screen.
AE-01
AU-02
SE-03
IG-04
NE-05
SY-06
VO-07
“The Houses don’t replace the U.A.O.”
Another slide.
“The U.A.O. doesn’t replace the Houses.”
The instructor switched off the screen.
“If any of you came here thinking some people are here to fight and others to carry their bags, you can leave now.”
Nobody moved.
“Good.”
He pointed to the door.
“Let’s go.”
In another building in the complex, the number on a screen changed.
OPERATIONAL REGISTRATION — DESK 12
Armando looked up.
He waited a moment.
Then stood up.
An automatic door opened.
The room on the other side was small.
A desk.
Two chairs.
A screen.
An A.E.E. official waited behind the desk.
“Identification.”
Armando placed his card in front of her.
She held it to the reader.
A brief sound.
The details appeared.
ARMANDO
NE-05 — NEREA
The official checked several fields.
“Your assignment is confirmed.”
Armando nodded.
She continued reading.
“With your operational authorisation, you can keep your current identification or register an operational name for service.”
Armando looked up slightly.
“It isn’t compulsory,” she continued. “Your civil identity remains linked to the file.”
The screen turned towards him.
There was an empty field.
OPERATIONAL NAME:
“If you register one, it will appear on your operational identification, internal communications and service documents.”
Armando looked at the field.
The official waited.
“Do you want to keep Armando?”
Silence.
Armando looked down at the card he had placed on the desk.
The same name he had carried this far.
“No.”
The official placed her hands on the keyboard.
“What name would you like to register?”
Armando looked up.
“Harmondez.”
She typed.
One letter after another.
H A R M O N D E Z
She turned the screen again.
NE-05 — NEREA
HARMONDEZ
“Correct?”
He looked at the name.
“Yes.”
The official confirmed it.
A sound.
OPERATIONAL NAME REGISTERED
The printer beside her began working.
She took out a new identification card.
Placed it on the desk.
“All done, Harmondez.”
He picked it up.
Looked at it for a few seconds.
Then stood up.
“Thank you.”
He left.
The door closed behind him.
Armando had come in.
Harmondez went out.
The training hall was much larger than the one from the day before.
Daniel went in.
Stopped.
There were weapons.
Not too many.
But enough.
All secured in racks.
A symbol appeared repeatedly on the display cases.
A.R.E.
Daniel moved closer.
Staffs.
Compact weapons.
Channelling devices.
Forearm guards.
Blades of different sizes.
Melisa appeared beside him.
“Don’t touch them.”
Daniel did not even look at her.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I was looking.”
“With your hands.”
Daniel put them in his pockets.
“Better.”
A technician walked past them.
“They aren’t operational.”
Daniel turned.
“All of them?”
“Training models.”
The man pointed to a yellow line on each weapon.
“Limited output. Without authorisation, none of them leaves this hall.”
He picked up one of the blades.
“An A.R.E. doesn’t make anyone Awakened.”
He put it back.
“And it doesn’t make an Awakened person competent either.”
Melisa looked at Daniel.
“That was aimed at you.”
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“He was quick.”
Daniel was handed a staff.
He held it.
Turned.
Too long.
Tried another position.
“No.”
The technician raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
Daniel corrected himself.
“It doesn’t feel comfortable.”
“That I can work with.”
He took it from him.
Handed him another model.
Shorter.
Daniel made two movements.
Better.
But he had to slow his body down for the weapon to keep up.
“What do you notice?”
“That I get there before this does.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
Another weapon.
A short blade.
Daniel held it.
Changed his stance almost without thinking.
One foot back.
Shoulders relaxed.
A short movement.
The technician watched him.
“Again.”
Daniel repeated it.
Strike.
Sidestep.
Change of angle.
“Have you trained with weapons?”
“No.”
“It shows.”
Melisa laughed behind him.
Daniel turned.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Again,” the technician ordered.
Daniel moved forward.
Attack.
Retreat.
Turn.
He stopped.
Something did not quite fit.
He looked at his left hand.
Empty.
Then at the rack.
There was another short blade.
Almost identical.
The technician followed his gaze.
“One.”
Daniel raised the one he held.
“I know.”
He looked at the second again.
“I said one.”
“I heard you.”
From behind:
“It didn’t look like it.”
Daniel turned.
Melisa was smiling.
“Don’t start.”
In another part of the complex:
NE-05 — NEREA
Alyra held out both hands.
Water came out of one of the tanks.
It did not strike.
It went around the first obstacle.
Then the second.
She divided the flow.
One stream continued.
The other changed direction.
The instructor raised his hand.
Alyra closed her fingers.
The water returned to the tank.
Not a drop reached the outer line.
The instructor looked at the floor.
“Clean control.”
Alyra smiled.
“That was the idea.”
To her right:
a crack.
Alyra closed her eyes.
“Three…”
The ice kept growing.
“Two…”
It rose up the side of the container.
“One…”
“Enough.”
Iskander closed his hand.
The ice stopped growing.
Alyra looked at him.
“You only took half a second this time.”
“I’m improving.”
“That’s debatable.”
Iskander tapped the ice lightly with his knuckles.
“It holds.”
“That wasn’t the test.”
“But it holds.”
Alyra shook her head.
“One day you’ll build a wall so big you won’t be able to get out yourself.”
Iskander looked at her.
“Then I’ll break it.”
“Of course.”
The instructor called:
“Iskander.”
He went over.
Several A.R.E. models were on a table.
The instructor chose one heavier than those the other students were using.
Iskander held it.
Tested the weight.
“How is it?”
“Light.”
From behind:
“What a surprise.”
Iskander turned.
Alyra had already returned to her exercise.
“I heard you.”
Without looking at him, she replied:
“That was the idea.”
One of the streams lost stability.
Alyra tried to correct it.
Too late.
The water hit the edge and fell to the floor.
She pressed her lips together.
The instructor came over.
“Again tomorrow.”
“I can do it now.”
“Tomorrow.”
Alyra looked at the spilt water.
She did not argue.
She crouched.
Started gathering the equipment.
Iskander came over.
“Almost.”
Alyra looked up.
“I don’t need an ‘almost’.”
“It wasn’t meant as consolation.”
“What, then?”
Iskander pointed to the tank.
“The second stream was fine.”
Alyra looked at him.
Then at the water.
“The first wasn’t.”
“That’s why I said almost.”
Alyra breathed out through her nose.
“You’re so useful.”
Iskander nodded.
“I try.”
She smiled despite herself.
VO-07 — VOLTRIS
Electricity ran along the blade.
Xenya gritted her teeth.
The indicator went from green to yellow.
“Lower it.”
Xenya held it steady.
“Xenya.”
The discharge increased.
“Lower it.”
She reduced it.
The indicator went back.
Xenya let out a breath.
“I could hold it.”
The instructor checked the data.
“The weapon could, yes.”
Xenya waited.
“You can’t yet.”
She frowned.
“Again.”
The instructor looked at her.
Xenya held out her hand.
“Again.”
This time the electricity appeared more slowly.
Less spectacular.
More stable.
Green.
It held.
Five seconds.
Ten.
The instructor said nothing.
Xenya smiled.
“Now?”
“This time you haven’t tried to impress anyone.”
The smile vanished.
“I wasn’t trying to…”
The instructor looked at her.
Xenya fell silent.
“Again.”
The next room looked like a small industrial station.
Walkways.
Doors.
Stairs.
Containers.
Artificial smoke.
Emergency lights.
Four dummies.
Daniel and Melisa waited.
This time they were not alone.
Alyra came in first.
Iskander appeared behind her.
Daniel recognised the uniform.
Nerea.
Melisa lowered her voice.
“Joint training?”
“Looks like it.”
Iskander looked at their insignia.
U.A.O. — CANDIDATE
Then at Daniel.
“Who’s coordinating?”
Daniel was about to answer.
He stopped.
Looked at Melisa.
She saw him.
Daniel raised the radio.
“Depends on what we find.”
Iskander watched him for a moment.
“Good.”
Alyra looked at Daniel.
“At least one of us asks before giving orders.”
Iskander turned.
“I haven’t given any orders.”
“Yet.”
A voice came over the speakers.
“Structural incident.”
The lights changed.
“Four casualties.”
Smoke.
“One main route compromised.”
A door closed.
“Time starts now.”
Daniel took a step.
Stopped.
Looked.
Melisa saw him.
“What?”
Daniel pointed to the panel.
“Two routes.”
Iskander advanced towards the first.
Daniel raised the radio.
“Wait.”
Iskander turned.
“What?”
Daniel checked the plan.
“That connects to sector two.”
“Yes.”
“We have casualties in three.”
“Then we clear a way through.”
Iskander advanced.
Water prepared for the exercise ran across the floor.
Rose.
Froze.
A barrier stabilised part of the structure.
“Done.”
Daniel looked.
Then behind it.
“No.”
Iskander turned.
“What?”
Daniel pointed.
“You’ve blocked the secondary exit.”
Iskander looked at the barrier.
“It holds.”
“That’s not the problem.”
Daniel pointed to the plan.
“If the main one goes, you’ve just blocked the other one.”
Iskander looked at him.
Alyra looked at the ice.
“He’s right.”
Iskander held out his hand.
Part of the ice broke.
He reduced the obstruction.
Left a passage.
“Now.”
Daniel nodded.
“Now.”
They moved forward.
First casualty.
Melisa checked the surroundings.
Daniel was about to advance.
He stopped.
Looked.
Once.
Twice.
Melisa saw him.
“Safe.”
Daniel moved closer.
Alyra controlled a simulated leak using water from the circuit.
Iskander kept the structure stable.
Daniel checked the casualty.
“We need evacuation.”
Melisa raised the radio.
“Team one. Casualty located. Sector three. Secondary access operational.”
“Received.”
Daniel looked at Melisa.
She raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
Daniel shook his head.
They continued.
Second sector.
An alarm.
Iskander advanced.
Daniel raised his hand.
“Wait.”
Iskander stopped.
Daniel looked at the floor.
A red line.
UNSTABLE AREA
Iskander pointed to the other side.
“I can cross.”
“You can.”
Daniel pointed to Melisa.
“She can’t.”
Alyra looked at the area.
“I wouldn’t trust it either.”
Daniel pointed to another route.
“We go round.”
“We lose time,” Iskander said.
Daniel remembered a voice.
Getting there first is no use if you get it wrong.
“Yes.”
Iskander watched him.
Daniel raised the radio.
“Changing route.”
This time Iskander did not argue.
“Let’s go.”
They finished over time.
Again.
Daniel looked at the stopwatch.
“It can’t be.”
Melisa put down the stretcher.
“How much?”
“Fourteen seconds.”
“Better than three.”
Daniel looked at her.
“That’s not how it works.”
The instructor came down from the walkway.
“Two casualties correctly evacuated.”
He looked at Alyra.
“Leak contained.”
At Iskander.
“Structure stabilised.”
Then at Daniel and Melisa.
“Correct communications.”
Daniel waited.
“Fourteen seconds over.”
“I know.”
The instructor looked at the group.
“What went wrong?”
Iskander answered first.
“We lost time modifying my barrier.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Because it was blocking the exit.”
“I know.”
Daniel fell silent.
Iskander continued.
“That’s why it went wrong.”
A pause.
“I made it too big.”
Alyra looked at him.
Iskander saw her.
“Not a word.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Right.”
The instructor pointed to Daniel.
“And you?”
Daniel thought.
“I hesitated too much on the second route.”
“Why?”
“Because yesterday I’d have gone in without looking.”
“And today?”
Daniel looked at the scenario.
“Today I looked too much.”
The instructor nodded.
“Good.”
Daniel frowned.
“Good?”
“Now you know there are two mistakes.”
He left.
Daniel watched him.
Melisa walked past him.
“You looked twice.”
Daniel turned.
She was smiling.
“Don’t get used to it.”
They ate outside.
Daniel sat on a low wall.
Melisa opened her rucksack.
Took out a bag.
Daniel saw the label.
FOOD
He looked at her.
“No.”
“What?”
“You’ve labelled the food.”
“Yes.”
“You know what it is because it’s food.”
“I know what bandages are too.”
“Then why label anything?”
Melisa opened the bag.
“Because I like it.”
Daniel fell silent.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Melisa looked at him.
“You thought there was an explanation.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She took a bite of her sandwich.
“I just like keeping things tidy.”
Daniel smiled.
“I like that better.”
“What?”
“That not everything has a sad story.”
Melisa stopped chewing for a moment.
“No.”
A pause.
“Not everything.”
Daniel understood there was something more.
He did not ask.
Melisa noticed.
“My parents don’t want me here.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Because of Darian?”
“Because of everything.”
She played with the wrapper.
“They say I’ve had enough already.”
Daniel stayed silent.
“That I have no affinity. That I don’t need to get involved in this.”
“And what do you say?”
Melisa looked towards the courtyard.
Several House uniforms were crossing the far side.
“That someone got involved when I didn’t know what to do.”
Daniel lowered his gaze.
“Armando.”
Melisa continued.
“Him too.”
Daniel understood.
There was no need to ask.
“They think I want to do this because of what happened that day.”
“And you don’t?”
Melisa took a moment.
“A bit.”
A pause.
“But not just because of that.”
Daniel nodded.
“Good.”
Melisa frowned.
“Good?”
Daniel smiled.
“That means I’m not the only one.”
It took her a second to recognise the line.
She threw the wrapper at him.
Daniel dodged it.
In another part of the complex, nobody was laughing.
A screen showed a road.
The recording was poor.
Dark.
Shaky.
But enough.
Several animals stood among the trees.
“Again.”
The video rewound.
Playback.
The Altered stepped back.
One.
Another.
Another.
Almost simultaneously.
“Pause.”
The image froze.
A researcher moved closer.
“Time between movements?”
“Less than two seconds.”
“External stimulus?”
“None recorded.”
Another technician enlarged the image.
“It could be a group response.”
“It could.”
The researcher opened another file.
A map.
Several points.
One of them was old.
“What’s that?”
“One of the first serious incidents after the Fall.”
Photographs.
Asphalt.
Blood.
Tracks.
“People died.”
“I know.”
She placed the two records side by side.
Old incident.
Current incident.
“We can’t say they’re the same individuals.”
“No.”
“Or even that they belong to the same group.”
“No.”
The researcher enlarged the tracks.
“But look at the distances.”
Silence.
The patterns were too regular.
“They move together.”
The technician looked at the recording.
“Canids already do that.”
“Yes.”
She played the moment of the retreat again.
All stepped back.
None turned its back.
“But this doesn’t look like a stampede.”
A pause.
“Or fear.”
The image stopped.
The animals were looking towards almost the same point.
Off camera.
“What are they looking at?”
Nobody answered.
The last test of the day took Daniel back to the A.R.E. hall.
The technician saw him come in.
“No.”
Daniel raised both hands.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“I know what you’re going to ask.”
“You don’t.”
“Both.”
Daniel went still.
“Right.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Melisa walked behind him.
“That’s frightening.”
The technician picked up the two short blades.
Placed them on the table.
“Five minutes.”
Daniel smiled.
“Really?”
“Four fifty-nine.”
Daniel picked up both.
This time he did not start immediately.
He looked at the space.
The dummy.
His feet.
Breathed.
“What are you doing?” the technician asked.
Daniel adjusted his grip.
“Looking twice.”
Melisa covered her face.
“No.”
Daniel began.
Slowly.
Right.
Left.
Step.
Change.
One blade marked the first angle.
The second continued the movement.
Daniel stepped back.
Returned.
Faster.
He made a mistake.
The two blades clashed.
“Dead,” Melisa said.
Daniel looked at her.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He started again.
Right.
Left.
Change.
This time they did not clash.
Still clumsy.
Still imperfect.
But something was beginning to fit.
One blade protected the movement of the other.
Daniel finished.
He was breathing fast.
He looked at both.
The technician came over.
Held out his hands.
Daniel handed them over.
“Tomorrow.”
Daniel looked up.
“Does that mean…?”
“It means tomorrow.”
The technician placed the blades in the rack.
Daniel looked at them.
They were not his.
Yet.
But for the first time since the A.E.E. had begun measuring him, Daniel was not waiting for something to appear inside him.
He was learning to use something he already had.
His body.
His head.
His decisions.
It still wasn’t much.
But it was no longer nothing.
The laboratory light was white.
Too white.
The body of an Altered animal lay on a metal table.
Canine.
Larger than normal.
The fur had been removed in several areas.
Two researchers worked in silence.
One compared images.
“Put up the initial sample.”
Muscle tissue from one of the first specimens recovered after the Fall appeared on the screen.
“Now this one.”
The image changed.
Silence.
“Again.”
First.
Current.
First.
Current.
“That wasn’t there.”
“No.”
The researcher enlarged it.
Fibres.
Density.
Structural changes.
“Age?”
“Consistent.”
“Species?”
“Consistent.”
“Environmental differences?”
“Not enough.”
The man moved closer to the screen.
“Then what am I looking at?”
The other researcher did not answer.
She opened another record.
Another Altered animal.
Then another.
Three different dates.
Three samples.
The changes were not identical.
But they followed a direction.
“The more recent ones…”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Mutation?”
She shook her head slowly.
“I wouldn’t use that word yet.”
“What, then?”
She looked at the three samples.
“Adaptation.”
The man frowned.
“That fast?”
“I said I wouldn’t use that word yet.”
Before he could answer, the door opened.
A technician came in with a tablet.
“We have another.”
The researcher turned.
“Another specimen?”
“Another incident.”
He handed her the screen.
A map.
A red point.
She zoomed in.
Then opened the previous incident.
The two points were much closer than she had expected.
“How many?”
“We don’t know.”
“Casualties?”
“Not yet.”
The other researcher moved closer.
“Direction?”
The technician pointed to the map.
Silence.
The researcher looked up.
“They’re moving.”
Forest.
Night.
A fixed camera watched a stretch of road.
Time:
23:47:18
Nothing.
23:47:26
A shape crossed.
Canine.
It stopped in the middle of the road.
Another appeared behind it.
Then another.
Three.
None continued forward.
The first raised its head.
The others waited.
23:47:41
The first turned north.
The other two did the same.
There was no noise.
No vehicles.
Nothing visible in that direction.
23:47:46
All three began to move.
Together.
They disappeared out of shot.
The road was empty again.
Four seconds passed.
Five.
At the edge of the frame, among the trees, a high branch bent.
Too high.
The image lost signal for less than a second.
When it returned:
nothing.
Only road.
In the lower corner of the recording, text appeared automatically:
MOVEMENT DETECTED
PATTERN UNIDENTIFIED
The recording continued.
Empty.
CUT TO BLACK.
END OF EPISODE 15 — PROTOCOL