Always be wary of the dark

"June 7th, 4087—the day it all began. I remember it vividly, permanently etched into my mind like an inscription. Every night, as I close my eyes, that day haunts me. And every morning, I wake up wishing it had all been a dream. Even a nightmare would be better," a young boy murmured, sitting in a dimly lit room.

___________________________

June 7th, 4087—the day the world began for others. For Jack, it ended.

A large hall buzzed with nervous energy, fluorescent bulbs casting it's light over a group of fifteen-year-olds seated before a sealed chamber. Above the steel-plated door, a LED screen glowed, ready to broadcast each student's fate.

Despite the murmuring voices, the clock's steady ticking echoed through the hall—a reminder of the moment's gravity.

Jack stood near the back, his palms slick with sweat. He'd rehearsed this moment for years—the day his potential would awaken. Or so he'd hoped.

"Janet Kane."

A short, blue-eyed girl rose from her seat, walking briskly toward the chamber. The steel door slid shut behind her.

A minute or two passed. Then the screen flashed.

[GRADE A: PYROKINESIS]

The class erupted in cheers. As Janet stepped out, flames swirling above her palm like a snake before she snuffed it out with a snap. She didn't spare a glance at anyone—not even Jack, who had once lent her a pencil in third grade. Without a word, she walked out of the hall.

"Aaron Graves," the voice called again.

Three students shuffled forward, moving the line. The first, a lanky red-haired boy, stepped into the room. Minutes later, the screen flashed.

[GRADE D: ENHANCED PHYSIOLOGY]

As Aaron walked out, polite claps echoed through the hall. He slunk back to his seat, grinning weakly.

"Could've been worse," someone muttered.

"Elena Vasquez," the voice called out again. A girl with silver hair pins marched in.

Minutes later, the screen blinked.

[GRADE D: ECHOLOCATION]

"Bet she'll hear her parents arguing from miles away," someone sneered. Laughter echoing through the room.

As Elena walked out, she heard the remark. And shot a glare in their direction but ultimately sagged with relief.

"Daren Tayes," the voice called out again.

The third student, a bulky boy, cracked his knuckles and swaggered inside.

The screen paused, then lit up.

[GRADE C: TELEKINESIS]

Cheers exploded. Daren returned, smirking as he glanced around the room before casually floating a chair into the air.

"Beginner's luck," he said, but his eyes shone with barely contained excitement.

Then—

"Jack Vales."

The room suddenly felt airless.

Students muttered among themselves. "Class number one's going inside. I wonder what his will be?"

A boy with blue eyes scoffed. "Doesn't matter if he's number one in class or the whole school. School grades are useless in the gene awakening process."

Jack heard every word but didn't bother to respond. His legs carried him forward on their own, stepping into the room.

Inside, the air was surprisingly refreshing—he had expected the sharp sting of antiseptic. Glancing around the room in the corner was a metal chair with straps. A bored technician pointed and said, "Sit."

Jack nodded and walked toward the chair, settling into it as a mechanical arm, fixed to the walls, came to life with a soft whirr. Needles pricked his wrists, sending a sharp chill through his body.

Cold fire flooded his veins. Slowly, his body swelled, as though a dam was breaking inside him. His vision blurred—then exploded. Colors screamed, and sounds twisted into screeches and whispers. His bones felt like they were cracking open, his DNA unraveling like a snapped rope. The screen above flickered:

[UNLOCKING GENETIC SEQUENCE…]

"Please," Jack begged silently. "Anything but F. Anything."

Few minutes later the technician looked up at Jack. "That's done, now for the moment of truth."

Walking towards Jack with a syringe containing a grey liquid. "This would only take a second." Jack nodded, feeling the injection prick his skin at the exact same spot as before, a cooling sensation spread across his body.

[DETECTING AWAKENED GENE...]

Anything but F. Anything.

The screen soon gave its verdict.

[GRADE F: MORPH]

The technician clicked his tongue. "Xi Jiang Zi," he called out as Jack stood up and stumbled out. The hallway screen blared his failure for all to see.

"Morph?" a boy snorted. "My grandma could change her wrinkles without needing a serum."

"Morph? And an F grade at that? Might as well buy a synthetic face mask," another boy added.

Laughter erupted. Jack's legs wobbled. He stumbled forward, the hallway stretching endlessly ahead of him. The laughter rang in his ears, sharp and merciless.

His throat tightened, and each step felt heavier than the last, as if the floor itself were conspiring against him.

That day, he walked home alone. His parents hadn't spoken. His father's disappointment hung in the air like a lead weight, his mother's forced smile barely concealed her worry.

The next day, his classmates didn't just ignore him—they sneered, whispering behind his back, their laughter sharper than before. By the week's end, Jack Vales was already forgotten.

Unable to bear the oppressive silence that greeted him everyday at home, he had decided to move out.

___________________________

"It's been three years since that day." Jack sighed, his gaze drifting across the small, dimly lit room. He stood up and walked to the only source of light—a cracked window, its frame worn from years of neglect.

Since that day, his mind had been full of holes—memory pockets. Some days, he remembered everything. And on days when the moon was full at night, he has no recollection of what happened.

Like yesterday. What exactly happened yesterday?

Unable to find an answer to the question, he pushed aside the thoughts, walking towards the window he moved aside the curtains. A faint breeze slipped in, carrying the surrounding noise. Across the night sky, neon lights danced in the night sky.

Sighing once more, Jack turned and walked to a small, broken-down wardrobe. Its doors hung from their hinges with a slight squeak as he rummaged through the clothes inside.

After a brief deliberation, he picked up a hoodie, putting it on, and made his way out of the room. As he climbed down the stairs, making his way into the community complex, they creaked softly.

Jack took in the sights as he walked—people rummaging through trash cans, their eyes sunken, women in skimpy clothes calling out to passing men, their voices laced with desperation.

Jack shook his head and kept walking—until a voice called out to him.

"Hey Jackie, you got anything good."

With a sigh, Jack broke into a sprint. "Get him!" The voice screamed from behind him, as the sounds of footsteps echoed behind him. After a few twists and turns and three minutes of intense running, the sounds of footsteps behind him seemed to have receded.