It was early in the morning when Grigor started knocking on the door, but nobody was rushing to open it. He gave it three more loud knocks before he finally pushed the door open.

  “Up,” he said.

  Kat pulled the blanket over her head, signaling him to go away.

  “Get up girls, we need to hit the road,” Grigor said.

  Naia stared at him from the bed only with one eye open. The room was cold, the small heater in the corner was barely doing its job.

  “Where are we going?” Naia asked.

  “Sector Twelve got hit last night,” replied Grigor, while standing in the doorway.

  Kat instantly threw the blanket off and asked, “Raiders?”

  Grigor nodded. “They lost their entire meat stock.”

  “Just great!” Kat complained while rubbing her face.

  “But why are we going?” asked Naia.

  “They also have a generator problem,” said Grigor, knowing that would get her attention.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Naia asked.

  “The cycle timing keeps failing.”

  Naia jumped off the bed and started putting on her boots.

  Kat didn’t share the same sense of urgency, she put the pillow over her face. “Ugh, I hate mornings.”

  “You’ll hate this one even more if we’re late because of you,” Grigor replied.

  Naia was already pulling on her coat when she said, “I’ll go, she can stay.”

  Grigor shook his head. “You’re both coming.”

  Kat sat up, almost pleading, “But why?”

  “Because I said so,” said Grigor and started heading out. “We will have breakfast and leave in half an hour.”

  By the time Naia and Kat got to the main chamber, it was already awake. The smell of cooked roots and dried meat filled the air.

  Grigor and a few others were already sitting at the main table, having an early breakfast. Naia and Kat joined them.

  Naia noticed several wooden crates stacked together near the entrance.

  “Meat?” she asked.

  Grigor nodded. “For Sector Twelve.”

  A young man sitting in front of Grigor crossed his arms. It was Torren, the new trainee, and he was looking at the stacks of meat like they personally offended him.

  “That’s too much,” he said.

  “It’s what they asked for,” said Grigor, who didn’t even look at him.

  Torren shook his head. “They let their supplies get stolen, that’s on them.”

  Kat grabbed a piece of dried meat from the table. “Stop being so dramatic,” she said while chewing.

  Torren ignored her. “We hunted this,” he continued. “And now we are giving it away for some vegetables?”

  “They’ll send crops later,” Naia said.

  “You call that a fair trade? Vegetables aren’t worth this.” Torren wasn’t planning to stop.

  Grigor finally turned toward him. “Listen boy, I understand you are still young, but you’re old enough to know, it's the trade between sectors that keeps us all alive.”

  Torren didn’t seem convinced. “We should keep what we earn.”

  Grigor slammed his fists on the table. “And what happens when we need help next time?”

  Kat patted Torren on the shoulder. “Relax,” she said. “It’s just meat, we can always hunt more.”

  Torren didn’t answer but it was clear he disagreed.

  A woman carrying a heavy metal toolbox approached them. It was Marzia, their best engineer.

  “You were looking for me?” she asked.

  Grigor nodded. “Sector Twelve’s generator is unstable, we need you to come with us.”

  Marzia sighed. “That system was built last year and it already has issues?”

  “They said the timing cycles keep drifting.”

  Marzia’s expression tightened. “Machines don’t do that.”

  Naia met her eyes. “I know.”

  The radio crackled loudly from the communications desk and everyone looked up.

  “…Sector Seven… come in…”

  Grigor walked over and picked up the microphone. “This is Grigor from Sector Seven.”

  Static filled the room for a while, then a tired voice answered.

  “This is Gosha from Sector Twelve.”

  “What’s the situation over there?” Grigor asked.

  “Not great, our main generator can’t maintain stable cycle.”

  Naia stepped closer to the microphone. “What exactly is wrong with it?” she asked.

  A small pause followed.

  “The pulses are inconsistent,” Gosha said. “They are shorter… then longer. We can’t keep the heating system stable.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Marzia said.

  “Our main engineer is currently helping Sector Nine,” Gosha continued, “Junior engineers tried fixing it but couldn’t.”

  “We’re bringing one of our own,” said Grigor and looked at Marzia.

  There was another pause for almost a minute.

  “Understood, we’ll be waiting for you,” said Gosha and the radio went silent.

  Grigor and the others loaded the crates in the carrier. The small tracked machine rumbled to life. Someone handed them wrapped food bundles. “Eat on the road,” the woman said.

  Kat opened hers right away. “You’re officially my favorite person.”

  Torren lifted one of the meat crates and muttered, “That’s too much.”

  Grigor noticed, but ignored him. “Let’s move.”

  Sector Twelve was about fifty kilometers away, close enough for trade but far enough to make the travel dangerous in winter.

  The cold air hit them the moment the gate opened, and the carrier began moving through the frozen forest.

  Kat pulled her coat tighter. “I hate this place,” she muttered.

  For nearly an hour, nothing broke the silence except the engine, then Grigor suddenly raised his hand.

  “Stop.”

  The carrier slowed. Naia followed his gaze toward the trees. Movement… several shapes between the trees.

  Torren whispered, “Raiders.”

  Grigor lifted his rifle.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Nobody moved or made a sound for a good minute or two, then one of the figures stepped forward.

  Grigor didn’t hesitate, he fired and his shot echoed across the frozen wilderness. The raider fell down instantly, and the others vanished into the forest.

  Torren raised his weapon, but Grigor lowered his hand. “Don’t waste bullets,” he said.

  Only the wind moved through the trees.

  “Keep moving.”

  Sector Twelve appeared several hours later. Unlike Sector Seven, the entrance wasn’t hidden in a tunnel. Old industrial structures rose from the frozen ground, metal towers and pipes stretched upward, half-covered in ice.

  People from Sector Twelve rushed toward them as the carrier arrived.

  “Glad you made it safe,” Gosha said.

  Grigor and the others stepped down from the vehicle.

  “We brought food supplies.”

  Workers immediately began unloading the crates, Torren watched them with obvious disapproval.

  Marzia was already heading toward the generator building that stood in the center. “Show me the system,” she said.

  Naia and the others followed her.

  The generator room was massive, it was filled with old industrial equipment, but half of them weren’t even operational. A large mechanical regulator stood in the middle of the room.

  Naia got closer when she saw it. A massive timing wheel rotated slowly beside the generator.

  Marzia pointed at it. “That’s their cycle regulator.”

  One of Sector Twelve’s junior engineers nodded. “It controls the pulse intervals.”

  Marzia studied the mechanism carefully, and then she said, “It looks fine.”

  “It is fine,” the engineer agreed with her and then continued, “That’s the problem.”

  Naia stepped even closer to the machine. “How long between pulses?” she asked.

  “Five seconds.”

  “Show me.”

  The generator roared to life, the timing wheel rotated steadily.

  Naia raised her hand. “Everyone count.”

  The room went quiet.

  “One.”

  “Two.”

  “Three.”

  “Four.”

  “Five.”

  The generator pulsed, everything seemed normal. They reset the system.

  Again.

  “One.”

  “Two.”

  “Three.”

  “Four.”

  The generator fired.

  Room got silent.

  Torren whispered, “That was four.”

  The engineer quickly checked the regulator. “It’s set to five.”

  They ran the cycle again.

  “One.”

  “Two.”

  “Three.”

  “Four.”

  “Five.”

  The pulse came late this time. They checked it a couple more times, each time the generator pulsed either too quickly, or too late. Now everyone was staring at it.

  The machine wasn’t broken, the timing wheel was correct, but somehow the pulses were wrong.

  Marzia slowly stepped back. “That's impossible.”

  Naia didn’t speak, instead she watched the regulator turn again.

  The machine was doing exactly what it was supposed to do, but something else wasn’t.

  Something deeper, something none of them could see.

  And for the first time, every person in the room understood…

  The generator wasn’t failing.

  The world was.

  ***

  "Still nothing?" Phrid asked as the lunch time approached.

  “Still processing,” Naia said after she checked the notification panel for the ninth time since the morning.

  Ten years of system logs from multiple networks wasn’t exactly a small file. Until the archive team finished compiling it, there wasn’t much anyone could do except wait.

  Naia's tablet chimed, but it wasn't the archive, it was a calendar reminder, "LUNCH".

  She sighed, stood up, and grabbed her coat from the back of the chair.

  “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said.

  Kimara waved without looking up.

  The small cafe across the street from GSCA was busy when Naia walked in. Sienna and Renzo were already sitting at the table near the window.

  “There she is,” Sienna said once she noticed Naia,. “The woman who abandoned us mid-card game.”

  Naia pulled out the chair and sat down.

  “What was the emergency?” Renzo asked.

  “Heat spike,” Naia said. “Nothing dramatic."

  Sienna pushed a menu toward her. “Order something. We’re planning something important.”

  Naia raised an eyebrow.

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “Elara’s birthday,” Sienna said. “Next weekend.”

  Renzo immediately pointed at her. “No karaoke.”

  Sienna ignored him.

  “We should do something big. Not just dinner.”

  Renzo leaned forward. “Define big.”

  Sienna grinned. “Surprise party!”

  Renzo sighed. “Elara hates surprises.”

  “Exactly,” Sienna said. “Which is why it’ll be memorable.”

  They all laughed.

  "Do we know what we are getting her as a present?" Renzo asked.

  "No, I was hoping we could decide together." Sienna said.

  "I think this year we should get her something together, as a group." Said Renzo.

  "That's a good idea, I remember she mentioned she wanted to get a new phone." Said Naia

  "Great! So we all chip in and get her a new phone." Sienna said.

  For the next thirty minutes the conversation drifted into plans: locations, guest lists, arguments about whether balloons were necessary or ridiculous. It was so normal Naia almost forgot about the archive logs.

  Almost...

  Then her phone vibrated on the table. She glanced at the screen, it was GSCA internal system notification. Naia opened it and read: "Archive delivery complete."

  She stood up immediately.

  “Sorry guys, I have to get back.”

  “But we still have so much to plan.” Sienna said. “Don't you have another half an hour?.”

  “I know but I really have to go. Why don't we meet again tomorrow, Kaelis will be back from his trip too.”

  Naia grabbed last bite on the way out and left.

  Across the room, someone walked in carrying a cardboard tray filled with coffee cups.

  “We will need some fuel if we want to dig though archives” the junior analyst said, and put the tray down on the desk.

  Several hands instantly reached for the cups. The office looked different when she returned, it was somehow more focused.

  Several analysts were already standing near the main screens. Kimara was leaning over one of the desks, scrolling through rows of numbers.

  “We got it?” Naia asked.

  Kimara nodded without looking up. “Ten years of timing logs.”

  “There’s too much to go through alone,” Phrid said.

  Naia nodded. “We will divide it.”

  She tapped the screen and the archive split into sections.

  “Two-year intervals,” Naia said. “Everyone takes one.”

  Within minutes the team spread out across their desks. Everyone started scrolling rows of data, searched for the same pattern they had seen on Sunday night. They were looking for anything unusual.

  For a while, nobody said anything.

  Then Kimara spoke. “Naia.”

  Naia walked over, Kimara pointed at a line of timestamps.

  “Look at this.”

  Naia leaned closer.

  Alarm was triggered, response was logged, but the response arrived before the alarm by almost half a second.

  Naia sighed. “When was it?”

  “A year ago.”

  From the other side of the room someone else spoke up. “Same thing here.”

  Another voice followed. “And here.”

  Naia turned slowly. “When?”

  “Two years ago.”

  “Four years ago.”

  “Three years ago.”

  Phrid pulled up another window on the central screen. “Different systems too,” he said and highlighted three separate sections of the archive.

  “System A ran for the first two years.” He tapped another column. “System B replaced it.” Then the final one, “And the current system came online three years ago.”

  Naia crossed her arms. “And all three show the same thing?”

  Phrid nodded. “Every single one of them.”

  The room got quieter, nobody could explain how different systems showed the same error.

  Naia stepped closer to the screen. “How far back does it go?”

  Kimara scrolled further into the archive. “All of these records show tiny discrepancies,” she said and continued scrolling. “They grow over time.”

  Another analyst ran a quick calculation. “It’s accelerating.”

  Naia looked up. “When does it start accelerating?”

  Kimara highlighted a section near the beginning of the archive. “About eight years ago.”

  “Do we know what happened eight years ago?” Asked Naia.

  Someone began searching historical event logs, storms, grid failures, satellite outages.

  Nothing.

  Phrid leaned back in his chair. “I’m not seeing anything major.”

  Kimara shook her head. “Can't see anything odd.”

  Naia stared at the screen again, three different systems, ten years of data and they all showed the same thing.

  The numbers didn’t match the order they were supposed to follow.

  No one in the room was saying anything.

  Naia kept staring at the screen.

  “This can’t be right.” She said quietly.

  No one answered, because the data said otherwise.