The neon-lit streets of the city buzz with activity, an endless current of life flowing around us. April and I step into the café, and I instantly pick up the sense of familiarity that comes with a well-hidden spot. The kind of place where the noise of the world outside can’t reach you, even though it's buried right in the middle of the city.

  Judy and Ember are already sitting, the table between them sparse except for a couple of drinks. Judy's leaning forward slightly, her posture straight and calculated, while Ember lounges back in her chair, arms crossed, a guarded intensity in her eyes. The moment we approach, both women look up, their gazes briefly flickering over to me before focusing on April.

  I stay back just a little, letting April take the lead. She’s the one with the plan here, the one who can make sense of all this. I’m just trying to keep up.

  “Hey,” April greets them smoothly, settling into a seat next to me. “Sorry we’re a little late. Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “Not at all,” Judy replies, her voice as cool as ever. She looks at me with an assessing eye, like she’s trying to figure me out all over again. She doesn’t know how much I’ve changed since the last time we met, but I guess neither do I.

  Ember gives a sharp, almost imperceptible nod in my direction before turning her attention back to April. “So, what’s the word? What have you got for us?”

  April’s expression hardens slightly as she leans forward. “We’ve got a problem, and it’s bigger than we thought.” Her voice doesn’t waver. “AzuriaCorp is playing the long game. They’re laying the groundwork for something huge, and it’s not just about the bots or the Mars base. It’s about control. They’re planning to extend their reach far beyond what anyone’s expecting.”

  Judy's eyebrow quirks up, the glimmer of curiosity now fighting against her skepticism. "Control? How much are we talking here?"

  “I’m not talking about just a few more bots or another expansion on Mars,” April continues, her gaze unwavering. “They’re building something to secure their power, not just here on Earth, but across the system. They’re establishing networks that could influence entire sectors. If they succeed, it’ll change everything. And not for the better.”

  Ember doesn’t seem entirely convinced. She leans back in her chair, eyeing April. “So you’ve been digging around in their systems. Found anything concrete?”

  April nods once, a small, confident movement. “More than I should have, but not enough to go public with yet. I’ve been breaking through their firewalls, pulling what I can, but it’s just the beginning. I’m still working my way up.”

  Judy’s thoughtful silence lingers in the air for a moment before she speaks again. "How do we get the proof? Something real enough to expose them?"

  April doesn't hesitate. "I’ve got access to a few key servers. I’ll need time, but once I get through to their core files, we’ll have everything we need. We just have to stay ahead of them and keep them from knowing we’re onto them."

  The tension in the room rises a little, but April’s calm demeanor keeps it from boiling over. I stay silent, watching the conversation unfold, letting April take the reins. For now, it’s better to stay in the background.

  Ember exchanges a glance with Judy, both of them silently weighing April’s words. The air thickens with the weight of what’s at stake.

  Finally, Ember breaks the silence. “Sounds like a hell of a risk. You sure this is worth it?”

  April leans forward, her voice steady. “It’s not just about risk anymore. It’s about stopping them before they change the course of everything. If we don’t act, we’re going to lose this fight before it even starts.”

  I feel the weight of her words as she speaks, and something inside me tightens. I didn’t expect it to go this far. This isn’t just some small act of rebellion anymore. This is a war—one that we might not be able to win.

  Judy gives a slight nod, finally leaning back in her chair, but I can tell she’s still processing it all. “Alright. I’ll help. But we need to be smart about this. No wild moves.”

  “I’m not planning on it,” April replies with a faint smile.

  I glance around at the group, feeling like an outsider despite the fact that I’m right here with them. There’s a lot I don’t know about the next steps. But I’m starting to see where this is going, starting to understand that my part in all of this is still to be figured out. I’m not in the front line—at least, not yet. But there’s something about this fight, about what April’s getting us into, that pulls me in deeper. I might not know exactly what I’m supposed to do yet, but somehow, I know I’ll have my part to play soon enough.

  Later, as the group scatters, April and I hang back a bit. I can feel her eyes on me as we walk a little further down the street, away from the others. The city’s neon lights flicker around us, but it’s quieter here, less crowded. Just the low hum of the electric cars passing by and the occasional distant shout or laugh from some street corner.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I ask, finally breaking the silence between us. “I mean… I know what you’re doing, but what exactly am I supposed to be doing?”

  April’s gaze flicks toward me, almost like she’s been waiting for me to ask this, and she gives a half smile.

  “You’re not just some pawn in this, Oskar,” she says, her voice softer now, almost comforting. “I want you in this, but I also want you to be able to make your own decisions. You don’t have to follow blindly, but you’re in this because I think you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

  I let that sink in for a moment, but then I press further. “That’s great and all, but… like, in practical terms. What’s my role in all this? Am I supposed to hack into some security system or… go in and take down people?” I’m not even sure what I’m asking, but something about her makes me want to know more. To feel like I’m part of the plan.

  April stops walking, turning to face me fully. She looks serious for a moment, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. Then, she lets out a small breath, like she’s deciding how much to say.

  “Honestly, Oskar, I don’t know yet. But I know you’ll find your way.” She pauses, her voice softening. “You’ve got something they don’t expect, something the others don’t even have. You’ve got heart. And right now, that’s all that matters.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I feel a mix of confusion and… maybe relief? It's not much of a plan, but it’s something. I nod, trying to hold onto that feeling she’s giving me. But there’s still that part of me that wants something concrete. I want to know my role—something real to do, something to give me a sense of purpose in all this chaos.

  But maybe I’ll just have to wait for that moment to come. After all, I’m still figuring this all out too.

  I glance at April, and she meets my eyes again, offering a faint smile. "You’re with us now, Oskar. And you’ll fit in. You just have to trust me.”

  “Alright,” I say, though I’m not sure I believe it yet. “But I still want to know what I'm really getting myself into.”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” she says, brushing her hair out of her face. “Just stay ready. Trust me when I say it’s going to get interesting.”

  I can’t help but wonder if that’s a promise… or a warning.

  That evening, as the city dims into its twilight state and the haze of synthetic clouds swirls lazily above the highrises, I can’t get the conversation out of my head.

  Did I say something I don’t remember? Please tell me I’m not losing it. That would be bad. I can’t slip. Not now.

  I lean back on the couch in April’s living room, the sleek walls humming faintly with the low static of some ambient smart system I don’t fully understand. The reprogrammed Azuria bot stands silently in the far corner, still and unreadable, like it’s waiting for a moment that hasn’t come yet.

  What did I tell April I could do? I rub the back of my neck. My brain feels like it’s chewing itself trying to retrace my words. Maybe I got carried away. Maybe I said something vague and she took it to mean I was capable of more than I actually am. Or maybe she just… believes in me for some reason I can’t see.

  I can’t do anything I can think of that can help them.

  I look over at the window, the reflection of the neon skyline warping faintly in the glass. I see myself in it for a moment—half-formed, unsure, barely fitting in with the luxury around me. I think back to Judy’s place. To that first weird night. To April showing up at my door like she knew me better than I knew myself. To her android, now standing in the same room as me.

  What am I even doing here?

  The house is quiet, save for the occasional soft hum from the fridge and the low murmur of a news anchor talking on the TV. April is somewhere down the hall, probably in her room or on a call. She's always moving, always thinking. Me? I’m stuck in this loop, asking myself if I’ve somehow signed on for something I’ll only end up screwing up.

  I lean forward, burying my face in my hands for a moment.

  Get a grip. Just—think. You’re not here by accident. She picked you. She brought you in. That has to mean something, right?

  But even thinking that, I can’t help the growing pit in my stomach. If they’re serious about this plan—whatever it is—then there’s no room for dead weight. And right now, I feel like a ghost clinging to people who actually know what they’re doing.

  I glance back toward the hallway where April disappeared. Maybe I should just ask her again, get some kind of confirmation. Or maybe I just need to stop thinking and start proving myself.

  One way or another… something’s going to force my hand soon.

  And I need to be ready when it does.

  It’s been three days since that night, and I still don’t know what I said or did to convince April I belonged. But I’ve stopped asking. If I keep spiraling, I’ll end up burning out before I even start.

  So here I am, crouched in the shadow of a utility crate outside an old AzuriaCorp satellite hub in District 7, while April quietly disables the outer security node.

  She whispers without looking back. “Camera loop running. Two minutes.”

  I nod, even though she can’t see me. The earpiece crackles once, then Ember’s voice chimes in with calm certainty. “Don’t make a mess. You’re just copying data. Get in, slot the drive, pull the logs. In and out.”

  “Simple,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Simple if you don’t trip anything,” Judy adds from her end, likely monitoring the feed. “And for the record, Oskar, I voted to send you in. This is your warm-up.”

  Warm-up. Sure. No pressure.

  April slips the back door open, motioning for me to follow. I move after her, my footsteps light but unsure. This isn’t a stealth game. It’s real. A mistake means setting off a thousand silent alarms and getting caught on twenty cameras, regardless of what she looped.

  We move fast through the dim corridor, the lights flickering on a low power cycle. Everything hums here—quietly alive with AzuriaCorp's signature sterile energy. April leads us to the server room like she’s been here a dozen times, and maybe she has.

  “Here,” she says, handing me the custom drive. “It’s preloaded. Just plug it in and wait.”

  I kneel at the terminal, hands slightly shaking as I insert the drive. The interface lights up with smooth pulses of blue, data copying over. I watch the progress bar crawl forward.

  April stands near the doorway, peeking down the hall. “You okay?”

  “I think so,” I answer honestly.

  She doesn’t smile, but there’s this tiny nod like she’s quietly impressed.

  “You’re doing better than I did on my first run,” she says. “I panicked. Shot out a camera with a flashlight.”

  I blink. “Really?”

  She shrugs. “I was trying to look cool. Failed miserably.”

  Despite the tension, I laugh under my breath. The sound surprises both of us.

  The drive beeps softly—transfer complete.

  “Let’s go,” she says, and we slip back out the way we came.

  By the time we reach her car, parked a few blocks down in a zone riddled with broken streetlamps, I feel like I’ve survived something far larger than it was. April tosses me a drink from her console, actual water this time.

  “That’s step one,” she says, starting the engine. “You didn’t freeze. You didn’t complain. And you didn’t ask me what the hell any of this was for.”

  I buckle in. “I mean, I still want to know… but I figure it’ll make more sense if I just keep moving forward.”

  She finally gives me a real smile—brief, sharp, confident. “Exactly.”

  As we drive back through the soaked neon city, past underpasses filled with androids, street preachers, and broken vending machines, I start to feel something unfamiliar creep in behind the usual anxiety.

  Belonging.

  It’s small, fragile, maybe even delusional.

  But it’s there.

  Later that night, they’re back at April’s place. She’s upstairs changing out of her black mission jacket. Oskar’s in the living room again, that strange Azuria model standing perfectly still in the corner like it doesn’t even breathe.

  He tries not to look at it too long.

  The news is still on. Same anchor, different story. Something about a shipment of terraforming modules arriving late to the Mars base, followed by a brief clip of AzuriaCorp’s CEO, Stewart Namareth, giving a tight-lipped press statement. Oskar watches it like he’s trying to pick apart the pixels. Every word out of his mouth makes his skin crawl a little more.

  April comes down, hair wet from a quick rinse, in a loose black tank and sweats. It’s the most casual he’s seen her yet. She drops onto the couch next to him, pulling one leg up.

  "You did good today," she says, reaching for a small tablet. She taps it and brings up a local map, overlaying some static data points. "Judy’s already sifting through what we pulled. There’s mention of movement near the Coreplex... something about new asset deployment."

  "Does that mean anything to you?" Oskar asks.

  "It will," she says. "Everything connects eventually. The question is whether we’ll still be breathing by the time we figure out how."

  He frowns. "You always this optimistic?"

  She smirks faintly. "Only on my good days."

  He wants to ask more. About the Azuria bot. About what’s coming next. About what role he’s really meant to play in this mess. But April leans her head back, her eyes half-closing like the day finally caught up to her.

  "So," he says carefully. "What now?"

  April opens one eye. "Now? We rest. There’s something big coming up soon. Ember’s been working angles. Judy’s got tech to modify. You’ll be in the field again."

  "What exactly am I doing though?" he asks.

  April turns her head slightly to look at him. "You’ll find out. But if you’re worried about not being useful—don’t be."

  "That’s not what I—" he starts, but then stops. Maybe it is. Maybe it's exactly that.

  She reaches out, her fingers brushing his shoulder lightly. It’s not much, but enough to silence him.

  “You’re in now,” she says. “That’s what matters.”

  He leans back against the couch. The room is quiet, save for the hum of distant traffic and the low murmur of the TV.