The sirens blasting from the drones flying above the heads of the purposely walking civilians in the streets didn't scream.
They chimed very politely in a low volume. Because noise was classified as unnecessary and unlawful.
Global Ability Licensing Authority read a warning from a drone flying dangerously low above the head of one of the young men walking in the streets.
'Unregistered energy fluctuation detected.
Please remain calm.
Compliance ensures safety.'
Ryker stopped walking.
The street around him froze, not because of fear, it was habit. People stepped aside, lowered their heads, and pretended nothing was happening. A middle-aged man even smiled nervously at the surveillance drone hovering above the intersection.
Ryker felt it again.
That crawling pressure under his skin.
This had happened many times before. Every time the global licensing authority tried to scan him, something inside him would resist.
Luckily, no one ever noticed. Otherwise, he would be in big trouble.
A blue light scanned him from head to toe.
Name: Ryker Miller
Age: 19
Registered Ability: None
Threat Level: ~
Status: Civilian
The drone paused.
Paused for too long.
Ryker clenched his fingers nervously as he waited.
Pressure that felt like a rock weighing a thousand pounds hit him, forcing him to lower his head further.
'Error. Recalculating.' Suddenly, the drone said.
A bead of sweat slid down Ryker's temple.
He hadn't done anything.
He never did. But then, his parents had done anything either, but they had still been flagged as an administrative error and imprisoned, or maybe erased. He hadn't seen them in years. Since they were taken to the Global licensing authority offices for evaluation.
It had been called a routine evaluation, but they never returned.
And one didn't ask. Civilians could not question authority.
'Unregistered fluctuation confirmed.
Violation Level: Minor.
Penalty: Warning issued.' The drone finally said.
The pressure vanished and the drone drifted away.
The street resumed breathing.
Ryker kept walking. He didn't question what violation he had committed.
Only when he turned the corner did his knees finally give out. He leaned against the wall, heart pounding from the realization that things were getting worse. Before, the resistance coming from within him was unnoticeable. But now, it had started to surface, and the licensing authority was starting to notice.
Ryker stayed still with his back pressed against the concrete wall until the shaking in his legs faded.
The city around him kept moving. His discomfort didn't matter to anyone as citizens walked forward with measured steps like well-regulated machines.
Above him, the drones kept doing their patrol routes, blue lenses scanning bodies like inventory.
He finally forced himself upright and resumed walking.
Standing still for too long attracted attention.
Loitering without purpose was classified as behavioral inefficiency. Three inefficiencies in a week triggered a soft inquiry. Five triggered a visit for evaluation.
Something no one wanted to experience.
Ryker adjusted his jacket and merged back into the stream of civilians, walking forward.
The residential block of the lower-tier citizens appeared in sight. Stacked concrete slabs threaded with surveillance rails and scanner gates.
Every entrance, every elevator, and every hallway was monitored.
One would think that the government cared about them too much that they wanted to protect them. But no. Those monitoring devices were meant to observe them and flag them as uncompliant if even the slightest routine changed.
If he walked with slightly longer steps than usual, it was flagged as unnecessary behavioral change.
If someone was attacked, which was rare but not impossible, and they used their ability to fight back without a license, they would be flagged as criminals for using unlicensed abilities.
That would trigger a bureaucratic process of evaluation and correction.
A nightmare no one wanted to face.
Ryker walked through the gates and headed to his single-room unit on the seventeenth floor of the first building.
Inside the room, walls were bare and furniture was the standard issued set.
A sink was fixed to the wall near the door dispensing purified water at regulated intervals.
The lights dimmed automatically at twenty-three hundred hours to "encourage healthy rest cycles."
Ryker closed the door behind him and locked it manually. The sound of the lock clicking into place finally relieved him.
That single room was the only space he had real privacy.
There were no cameras watching him, no drones surveilling him, and no devices listening to his every word.
He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and sat down on the floor, hands still trembling.
After a short rest, he stood up again and walked to the sink, splashing cold water on his face before raising his head and looking at his reflection in the mirror fixed on the wall above the sink.
His eyes were dark and too calm for someone who was shaking from being flagged moments ago.
His expression never matched what he was feeling inside. He had learned a long time ago that revealing his emotions could get him into trouble.
So, his expression was always blank. Without joy or anger.
There was always a tingling sensation under his skin that seemed to resonate with power.
Every time he committed a minor offense, that tingling would become more pronounced.
Luckily, the scanning devices used by the Global licensing authority had never detected it.
Ryker pressed a hand over his chest where that resonance was more active.
"Stop." He commanded quietly.
As if something had acknowledged his request, that sensation receded, leaving no trace behind.
Ryker didn't ask questions about that sensation. He had learned early never to explore anything that could invite an evaluation to his door.
After his parents disappeared, Ryker had followed every rule obsessively. He registered on time. Attended mandatory compliance classes when asked. Kept his head down. Never spoke out of turn. Never showed curiosity during audits.
He had passed every civilian behavior metric with near-perfect scores since he turned sixteen.
Which was exactly why the drone's pause during that scan on the street terrified him.
He activated his wall display and pulled up his personal civic record. It loaded instantly and as always, it was too clean and empty.
There were no warnings, no notes, and no flags. This was a lie.
Ryker had seen enough data streams to recognize a lie that looked polished.
Something was wrong.