**CURRENTLY A FEATURED STORY**
highest ranking: #11 in Science fiction
❝true happiness is only achieved without freedom.
There is a girl who wakes to a world that she was supposed to protect. Instead, she fights it.
There is a man who is cursed wit...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
"SO... LET ME get this straight, yeah? You're telling me that Bernard, right- our Bernard, is part of some elaborate scheme that was developed in the birth of this city and all planned out to avoid the possibility of an uprising? That everyone- everyone down there," Julian says, jabbing an index towards the snowy ground, "is going to die?"
"Pretty much."
"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard."
"It's not, I swear, I saw it--" I start, but Julian cuts me off with humourless, hysteric laughter that echoes down the empty street. Suddenly paranoid that it'll attract a nearby drone, I lunge forwards and clamp a firm hand onto Julian's mouth, staring at them firmly. "Stop," I snap. They respond by ripping themselves away.
A wheezy cough sounds, and I spin around. I'd forgotten about Vance, who sits there, legs stretched out across the snow-dusted pavement, back against the glass facade of a building. His face is drained of all colour, his cheekbones accentuating his gaunt-looking features. I can see his fingers trembling in his lap through the plumes of my breath. I make eye contact with him and give him a hard look, expecting him to back me up.
"It makes sense, Julian," he begins, and is cut off by another cough. But his affirmation doesn't help anyone, or anything, for that matter, as Julian whips their head around to look at us both, fuming. I swear I can see the snowflakes melting before they touch Julian's flushed cheeks.
Fists clenched and arms rigid beside their body, Julian shakes, staying rooted to the spot, as if they're fighting the overwhelming urge to punch one of us in the face. Honestly, I can't blame them. I'm rather familiar with the feeling. "You-" they start, darkened eyes zipping over to land on me. "I bet this is you. You've done this. You needed some excuse to get you both the fuck out of there, and you've made this up. It's not possible." They draw in a deep breath. "Bernard- it's- no. It's not fucking possible. He's like a father to me. He'd never do that to me. To us. The people down there are the people he protects, not the people he's dooming. It's not bloody possible."
