Image above: Elyka

Syeda stared in shock at the image before here. This message... And this picture. It couldn't be. And yet it was.

Syeda ran her hand through her scalp, fingers rifting through her hair to the nape of her neck, and then floating free, uncertainly, to her side again.

A picture of her father. Who could be behind this?

She could always check the photograph for fingerprints, but... who's saying that, should she decrypt and hack through the national database of bioinformatics, that said person would have his fingerprint registered?

Syeda sighed. Her father had gone missing four years ago. She did have hopes of finding him, of tracking him down herself, but... who was this person? This person who seemed to know something of the one person in life she held most dear.

"Hello! Miss Number One Nationwide! Focus!" A voice called out.

Syeda snapped to attention, seeing her teacher and the whole class looking exclusively at her. Elyka (that annoying girl from yesterday) careened her head, eyes curiously round.

Syeda quickly sorted her notebook out, picked up and clicked open a pen, and pretended to focus. But she didn't need to; all this was old work she'd already self-covered. But still. She had to keep up appearances.

On the way home, Syeda was assaulted (the only word for it, really), by the usual crowd bugging her to do their homework again. Would they ever leave her alone?

"Hey, Syeda! Ugh. That voice... It must be Elyka.

"Hey, hey, wait up!" A figure ran up and stood in front of her, blocking her path, out of breath.

"I just..." She panted, "wanted..." she panted again, "to give you..." after taking a moment to regain her breath, she held out a piece of paper towards her.

"There's a new club starting at our school. Its called The Cabinet of Scientific Curiousities."

Syeda tilted her head "Is it a pun on the book?" She asked, referring to the philosophy book by a similar name.

"Yup!"Elyka nodded enthusiastically. "I'm a bit of a philosophy buff; know my Witgenstein from my Nietzsche, and all. But..." She seemed thoughtful. "I want to expand myself into unknown territories, learn about things I don't know much about, you know? That sort of thing. So you know..." She looked up at Syeda hopefully. "Would you be able to contribute to the club? I know you've won multiple prizes and things, I think it was the Erlich Prize for a theoretical physics essay competition last year?"

'The competition about Advances in Biomimetics, but potayto po-taa-to.' Syeda thought drily.

"Wasn't yours on the connection between String and Superstring theory?" Elyka had her finger on her chin, forehead creased in thought, black curls in a halo around her head.

"Who tells you this stuff?" Syeda abruptly interrupted. No one ever bothered to know this much about her, even if it was grossly incorrect.

"The internet! But wait, wait, I'm talking about someone else. That was someone else." Elyka mumbled to herself. Then she abruptly laughed, a loud, sudden sound.

'Is she high?' Syeda mused.

"I'm getting confused! Your essay was on something else right, it was Eduardo who won the physics comp."

'Ed-? Forget it.' thought Syeda long-sufferingly.

"Well, point is, you're very knowledgeable! The school newsletter AND even the town newspaper print articles about you!" She effused eagerly.

"Thing is, I would love it if someone explained that stuff to me, and why it interests them, as well as how it relates to the world we live in. So that's basically the point of the club!" She made puppy eyes at Syeda. "You're the pride and joy of this school because of your scientific achievements, Syeda. Please say you'll help us out? The club wouldn't be much without you."

Syeda grunted. If this had been the first time someone had asked something of her, it would have been a compelling case. And all this flattery... There were few things Syeda would admit not to know, and one, in this moment, would be that she wasn't sure whether Elyka was calling her bluff. She wasn't sure she'd spoken to people enough to know when they were being fake.

And it was that distinction about people, that she couldn't easily work out, that turned her off from helping them. Did they really value her, or did they just want a homework slave? Was she 'cool' when she was present and said to be a 'dorky nerd' in her absence? 'You can never really trust people.' thought Syeda. 'They change like the wind, or a puff of smoke. Here today, gone the other.'

No, she was best by herself. Always.

Anyway, these people always wanted things from her. Why didn't they give her a break? Take a leaf out of her book and just do things themselves for once? No one helped her.

But despite her outer wall of ice and steel, something deep inside her couldn't let Elyka and her (somewhat silly) hopeful expression down. Not yet anyway.

"Hmm... Well, I'll think about it." Syeda briskly replied, and turned to (lightly, unlike usual) elbow past Elyka, and be swiftly on her way, increasing the distance between them with every stride.

"Okay!" Elyka's voice called out behind her. And then... Ahh, silence.

"Wait, what's your Snapple?" A now very familiar voice shreaked out behind her.

'Ugh, that annoying social media and news app', Syeda thought as she gritted her teeth. Apparently a long time ago an app called Snapchat had fused with Apple to create a co-owned social media venture that out-competed all social media since. With the fastest communication possible through its highly enhanced features, it allowed people to live a seemingly perfect personal and public life on one system, with the latest news, and even jobs and experience vacancies always appearing on Snapple first before anywhere else. Though news and worldwide updates was the main reason Syeda had it.

She knew Elyka wouldn't stop bugging her until she gave it.

"Okay, here it is." She grumbled before telling her her username. "But under these rules; tell no one my username and if there's a life and death situation, you can message me, but up to once a week.

"Sure!" she chirped back. As Syeda left for the second time, a voice hollered behind her again. "I'll remind you again in a few days!" Syeda groaned, and hurried away faster. 

"Oh, and btw, the Senator's son will be doing a Grand Opening for it!"

"Senator Who?" Syeda asked suspiciously.

"Senator Iago, the one who brought up the new law in Parliament about restraining (but effectively banning) Immigration; I think to put all future immigrants in refugee camps too." Elyka rolled her eyes.

'That's because they'd all be illegal if the law passed. Hypothetically speaking.' Syeda dully though, but said nothing.

"Of course, you've heard about the recent protests about it, in Times Square, Edinburgh, Cardiff, you name it. Even the Telegraph labelled it a Nationalist and Fascist move. But yeah, surprise surprise, it didn't pass, but apparently he wants to bring it up again. Half this country is made up of immigrants, half their work is done by them. And people in this government feel the need to ban them?" Elyka groaned expressively for lack of adequate words. Syeda listened quietly. Elyka was Philipino, it was understandable why she felt that way, and she herself was Norwegian. But her father had come a long time ago on a Skilled Professionals Visa, and had worked in Brynnish Defence itself. There were times when he hadn't come home for days and Syeda'd had to stay at a close family friend's as a child. And of course, Syeda had even then been motherless. In some respects, he'd given up everything for this country.

"Maybe the ones they have now are enough though?" A boy next to Elyka whom Syeda hadn't been paying much attention to spoke up. Ah yes, him. Syeda watched a little closely. The one who stood out. Francis, his name was?

But wait - It could've been Pineapple now for all she cared; she was late! She had things to do when she reached home!

Elyka looked thoughtful. "Yeah, maybe that's how their thought works. But anyway, the Senator's unfortunate progeny is coming next week on Wednesday, on our opening day. Maybe we can badger him about the stuff his dad does, lol."

'She did not just say lol'. Syeda seethed, as she repeatedly checked the time on her watch to give the others a hint.

"Did you just say lol? Ew, isn't that old slang? My grandma remembers that." Francis shuddered.

"Whatever! I prefer term retro, vintage. Anyway," Facing Syeda again, she continued. "Did you know our club has school and government funding?"

And on and on Elyka seemed to prattle on, but Syeda had already switched off to the noise (her noise), and was checking her watch again. 

Syeda looked around her. Coast was clear. 360 degree check showed nothing amiss. No one else annoying coming along. Time to take her leave.

But as she left and heard her companions (or accoster's, rather) pleas to make sure to come, her mind returned to its now primary focus. Everything else was secondary.

The matter of the photo. She would begin her analysis today. 

Jack sighed, as he lay on his bed. Dad was being so annoying. First of all, he hardly saw him, and when he did, it was 'Do this', 'Do that', 'See to this', 'See to that'. There was always a plan for everything. He wouldn't be surprised if his dad had planned out his son's whole life too. Sure seemed like it.

He got up, and rubbing one hand over his face and up through his dark brown hair.

He needed a plan. Soon. He absentmindedly handled his Nyfe as he thought. 

Ah yes, the weapon he'd nicked, to help him in his getaway from this god-awful place.

Nyves were a part of Brynnland's ambitious new leap into weapon tech. THE new leap.

All guns, rifles, grenades, all the old stuff the police used to use were soon to become things of the past.

The King's Guard had even tried to copy it and make their own version; Astrapies, those weird AI swords.

Jack crinkled his upper lip distastefully. While Nyves were metallic, sleek and modern, Astrapies looked like weapons wielded by Zeus, all vines and engravings, and were gold-plated. 'Prissy, but hey, that's Royalists for you.' he thought smugly.

Jack looked at the silvery blue, long-barreled pistol next to him. Or what looked like one.

Being trained to be a part of the Special Corps division of the police meant that this Nyfe would be the companion of his new life. Probably his only companion ever, with the life he was on the track to leading.

Access was restricted (they reportedly cost around half a million each in production). But Jack had, for the first time, risked all in his decision to smuggle the silver-blue beauty to his room. He put it away gently at the back of his closet, and gingerly shut the cupboard door so it didn't creak. The security mics were perpetually listening. 

Strangely enough, a level of paranoia was encouraged in the Institute. 

Maybe there was someone who could help him, Jack pondered. He opened up a document on his laptop, of the list of people he could possibly ask for help. Currently, it was empty. He racked though his memories hard to think of someone who might possibly give a beep about his life, and who'd had the ability to get him away from his dad and his agendas too.

Hmmm.... Grandma? Nah, she loved his visits, but he wasn't sure if it was viable for him to actually stay with her. And if his Dad said no, it'd be no. Too close to home, then.

Mum... As if. It was best not to think about that. She wasn't worth his time. 'Not anymore.' He thought with a grim smile.

His list was still empty, but he put 'Grandma' on it anyway as a last resort.

So that was family done. His brother was still missing. There was no one at the Institute he'd grown up in for the last five years who he could really ask for help. Sad but true, he grimaced. 

He was the General's son. No one was allowed to get close to him. Anyone who was in contact with him was always rotated, the people he dealt with always changing, so he could never get attached, apart from a few commandants under Dad's authority.

Jack gripped his hair and let it go again, falling back onto his bed and staring at his ceiling.

'Think, think, think!' He gritted his teeth as his mind raced in thought.

Every childhood memory, every person, everything good that ever happened...

Hmmm... His mind's eye stopped on one person.

Eyes widened, he lay still in thought. Could he get in contact somehow?

He sat up swiftly, and started typing. 

A/N:

Thank you for your support, please let me know what you think!