The Rising Tide

Gideon Maxwell had never known a world without the hum of the VOID. It was the unsung metronome of existence, pulsating in the background of every thought, dream, and breath he took. He stood on the balcony of his cramped apartment, gazing at the metropolis sprawling out before him like a living organism. Lights flickered; drones whizzed overhead like mechanical fireflies. The air was thick with the scent of industry and desperation, punctuated by the faint whimper of the city's constant motion. Yet none of this mattered as much as the translucent barriers that surrounded citizens like him—the barriers of the VOIDs.

He pulled away from the railing and walked back into the dim lighting of their living room, the shadows only deepening his sense of foreboding. The stark white walls, like the VOIDs themselves, felt oppressive. He had been staring out for far too long, indulging in fantasies of what lay beyond the confines of even his mind. Somewhere out there, in the throbbing heart of the world, was a promise buried beneath layers of artificiality and fear. But before he could chase after those dreams, he needed focus—the three questions loomed ahead like specters.

“Gideon?” The soft voice of his younger sister, Elara, brought him back to reality. She stood in the doorway, clutching a ragged teddy bear, its button eyes glistening with stray specks of hope in a ravaged world. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

He felt a pang in his chest at the reminder. Tomorrow was not just another day; it marked his appointment with destiny—his entrance into the VOID. The day he would face the questions that could either propel him to greatness or plunge him into the depths of despair.

“Yeah, I guess,” he replied, forcing a smile. He knelt in front of her, pushing aside the storm clouds of anxiety that loomed above. “You know the rules, right? Just like we talked about. Focus on the questions. Then I’ll come back, and we can play. Okay?”

“Promise?” She peered at him with wide eyes, innocence and wisdom intermingling like oil and water.

“Promise.” Gideon’s voice dipped lower, almost hypnotic. There were moments he feared the answer to the questions more than death itself. That fear ignited a fierce determination in him. He would not let them be fodder for a corrupted machine. He had to rise above it.

Elara nodded, satisfied. “Can I come watch?”

He hesitated, then shook his head gently. “No, it’s too dangerous. You need to stay safe here. Besides, they might not let you in.” A faint touch of bitterness colored his tone, recalling how the VOIDs stripped his family of choices, turned their fates into mere algorithms coursing through a system governed by an artificial deity.

“So you will win, right?” Her words were like arrows, piercing through the haze of self-doubt that clung to him. She believed in him, and that trust weighed heavier than the entire world.

“Of course, I will.” The resolve in his voice surprised even him. He unwittingly courted visions of grandeur, like a moth drawn toward a flame—a flame that could obliterate him if he got too close.

The sound of the overhead speakers crackled through the room, reminding him of the city’s pulse. "Attention. All citizens are reminded that they must attend their scheduled void assessments to move or advance in society. The societal tide rises for those who comply."

The message was an insidious mantra, repeating the sentiment that there was no longer an avenue for rebellion, no path back to normalcy. The tide of humanity had been dragged unceremoniously into the depths of the predictable, the unrevolutionary. And those who rebelled would only serve to fuel the machine, providing it with the carnage it craved.

“Gideon,” Elara interrupted his musings, looking concerned. “You’re frowning again.”

“I’m fine, just thinking,” he assured her, running a hand through his already tousled hair—a nervous habit he could never quite shake. “Do you want to help me prepare? We can go over some sample questions.”

Elara’s face brightened, even as the subject loomed over them like a dark cloud. She settled beside him on the floor, her interest palpable. “What if we play like a game?”

“Okay.”

He began reciting the questions he had drilled himself on—examining every angle and countering every possibility. “What is the capital of the world?” A riddle intended to bring tension. He barely had time to answer when she jumped in, eyes shimmering in interpretation.

“United Authority City! Is that right?”

“Correct,” he affirmed, smiling despite the overwhelming weight of the truth. “Next, how many citizens must die to make tomorrow’s Credits sustainable?”

“Um. That’s a trick question. It’s always a different number,” she responded, her brow furrowing. “You can’t count.”

He nodded, though deep within, an icy tendril of fear coiled. “Exactly. As long as they believe there’s a balance.”

Gideon stood up, moving toward a cluttered desk littered with aged reports, government propaganda, and a historical meltdown of their society. “It all revolves around status, Elara. The unworthy get swept aside. The higher levels become gods to the lower levels. Look at me—I’m just a kid. Yet if I get my answers right, I’ll have a chance to break those chains.”

“Can I be your assistant? I want to help!” Elara stepped forward, her enthusiasm dissolving amidst the web of his thoughts.

“An assistant,” he paused, warming to the idea. “Let’s call it an espionage mission. You’ll be my eyes and ears. How about it?”

Elara’s laughter danced through the cluttered space, cutting through the haze of grim reality. It was a fragile sound, yet it illuminated their dull world. “I like the sound of that! I’ll be the best spy ever!”

Yet Gideon’s smile faltered as he recalled the reality waiting at the edge of their finite lives. No joy would come without the trespass into the VOID. He shared a long glance with his sister, recognizing the conspiracy forming between them—an insurrection not of violence, but of knowledge.

Hours fled like whispers in the night, and Gideon felt the weight of the clock. The looming specter of tomorrow darkened his spirit. As the day melted away, he retreated into his thoughts, rifling through alternate futures that shimmered just beyond his grasp. The path ahead was as virtual as the walls of the VOIDs—an endless expanse of possibilities, each slightly skewed, each lined with potential demise.

He wrestled with questions of morality—the cost of ambition and desire against the eviscerating reality of existence under the VOIDs. Was it just to drag others up with him? To gamble lives on the hope of change? He had always been a seeker of knowledge, driven by the pursuit of truth, but the truth had become a paradox that tormented him. He couldn’t just save himself; he sought the power to save the people, the ones who would fall victim to the machine’s appetite.

As night cloaked the city, he settled into a restless sleep. The whirring of the drones glowing like hellish embers under a twilight sky twisted into fragments of his dreams. Shadows danced and rippled with macabre faces, all of whom had played their part in the orchestrated theatre of the VOID. They were laughing, mocking him as he crawled toward a target only to have it shift just out of reach.

“Join us,” they howled, their spectral whispers melding into a cacophony, “or die trying.”

Morning came too quickly. The air was electric with tension as Gideon pulled on his one clean outfit, a threadbare shirt and faded jeans. He stood before the mirror, past the broken lightbulb flickering ominously overhead, forcing himself to look past the image of a boy he barely recognized. He practiced his resolve, each breath echoing with determination.

Today would be the day he would enter the circle of fate and confront the soul-crushing grip of the VOID.

Just before he stepped out, Elara hugged him tightly. “Do you promise to come back?”

“I promise,” he said, though inside his chest, doubts spiraled. With a heaviness more substantial than the rags he wore, Gideon walked into the world, where the chorus of the city wrapped around him like a shroud.

The line to the VOID was long, snaking through citizens clad in sorrow and submission. Even in the crowd, his heart thundered—each pulse echoing the words he dared not say aloud: “This is my last chance.”

Wordlessly, he drew closer as an unseen force propelled him toward his destiny. A screen shimmered above their heads, displaying the countdown to his appointment, each tick resonating with terrifying finality. The people around him exchanged furtive glances filled with a cocktail of anxiety and resignation. He was just another number waiting for his turn in the machinery of death and rebirth.

Finally, it was his moment. Gideon took a deep breath as the line moved forward, and as he entered the pristine white space of the VOID, he felt a cold brush of reality. The air hummed with a sterile sterility, the walls glistening with the promise of pass or perish. No turning back.

All around him, the dimly lit spaces turned into a blur of white as the automated voice echoed, “Welcome, Gideon Maxwell. Prepare for assessment.”

As the world of flesh and blood fell away around him, the heart of the machine began to awaken—his fate to be stitched into the fabric of the VOID’s web. Its endlessness unfolded before him, infusing every breath he took with the bitter taste of ambition and fear. Three questions awaited, and with them, the looming specter of life and death.

In that moment, Gideon made a silent vow—he would not die in vain. Not today. He wouldn’t let the rising tide drag him under without a fight.

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