The memory came like a gust of fresh wind through the stale city air. A fleeting, almost dreamlike image of a blue sky without the perpetual gray layer of pollution, and trees… real trees, with leaves that moved freely, not the synthetic imitations that adorned the designated parks. I didn't know where that image came from. It wasn't something I'd seen in the System's educational holobooks, or in the carefully curated documentaries that played on public screens. Those showed a chaotic and disordered past, a world we'd supposedly overcome thanks to the efficiency and control of the present.
Yet that vision, as brief as it was intense, had been seared into my mind, awakening a pang of longing for something I'd never directly encountered. It was as if a forgotten part of me, an echo of my ancestors, had vibrated in resonance with that image.
Often, when the monotony of my job at the drone recycling factory became unbearable, when the constant whir of the machines threatened to completely numb my mind, that image would return. A blue sky, trees… and sometimes, although even more blurred, the warm sensation of the sun directly on my skin, unfiltered by the layers of polluted atmosphere and the mandatory protective awnings.
Today, as my hands handled the metallic remains of a damaged surveillance drone, the image of the blue sky returned with unusual clarity. I paused for a moment, my fingers numb from the cold metal, and closed my eyes. I tried to hold on to the vision, to the feeling of freedom it evoked. But like sand between my fingers, it faded, leaving me with an emptiness and a lingering question: was that memory real, or just a fantasy born of boredom?
He knew it was dangerous to think about such things. The System didn't tolerate unchecked nostalgia for the past. It was considered a deviation, a sign of maladjustment. Citizens who showed excessive interest in the "old world" were subjected to re-education, a vague and ominous process that no one spoke about openly.
But the seed of doubt had already been planted. If the past was as chaotic as they said, why did I feel this pang of longing? Why did that image of a blue sky seem so… right?
That night, after my shift, in the cramped confines of my one-bedroom apartment, I pulled out a small object I'd found months earlier in an electronic waste bin. It was an old storage unit, a type no longer in use. I knew that trying to access its contents was risky. The System's firewalls were omnipresent, and any attempt to tamper with outdated technology could be detected.
However, the sight of the blue sky drove me on. I connected the unit to an old reader I'd assembled from discarded parts, hiding it under the flimsy table that served as my dining room and desk. The screen flickered, displaying incomprehensible lines of code. I knew I'd need help.
I remembered an old acquaintance, Elara. I'd known her from my time in the slums, before the System relocated me to this standardized apartment block. Elara had an uncanny knack for old technology, a fascination with the remnants of the digital past. I hadn't seen her in years, but I vaguely remembered her address in Sector 7.
The idea of contacting her was risky. Elara was an outsider, someone who lived outside the main System grid as much as possible. Associating with her could attract even more unwanted attention. But the need for answers outweighed my caution.
My heart pounding, I opened my official holodevice and searched through my list of obsolete contacts. The name "Elara - Electronic Curiosities Workshop" was still there, faded and marked as "connection inactive." I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the message icon. Contacting her was like opening a door to the unknown, a step outside the line marked by the System. But the image of the blue sky, that fragment of a forgotten world, prompted me to press the send button. A brief message, cryptic and cautious, slipped through the network, hoping to reach someone living on the fringes of the digital cage.
What kind of message are you sending to Elara? What do you hope to gain from her? Do you feel any other emotions besides hope and caution?
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