Chapter 6 – Ripples in the System

  The rain had resumed – fine, almost suspended. It was still 9:00 AM, yet the sky was leaden gray, as if it, too, had paused momentarily. Jason stood still. His cigarette had long gone out, forgotten between trembling fingers.

  He looked down at the injured man.

  Blood – everywhere. On the ground, on the walls, on Jason’s shoes. It looked as though someone had left their life here. But the man was alive. Because of him. Because of Jason.

  A thought heavier than anything he’d experienced in the past few days.

  A hum in the air – then the hovercraft. It descended silently, its light cutting through the rain. Two medics stepped out, quick but not frantic. Focused, but compassionate. One knelt beside the injured man, speaking softly to him while the other prepared a medical device.

  “You’re safe. We’ll take you home, do you hear?” murmured one as he gently applied a bandage.

  Jason took a step back. The scene burned into him – not the blood, but the expressions on the medics’ faces: seriousness, humanity, duty. They treated him not like a nameless case – but like someone who deserved to live.

  And then – just as quickly as they arrived, they vanished again. The hovercraft lifted off, the quiet buzz fading into the rain. All that remained was silence.

  Jason felt something stir inside him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  The thought that his actions might have meaning.

  Maybe… this was the first time in ages he’d truly made a difference.

  “You see,” he muttered to himself as a gust of wind drove rain into his face, “…maybe this pce isn’t just shit after all.”

  The police approached. No cold protocol – just a sincere, calm gaze. One officer, a man with weathered features and a steady voice, addressed him:

  “What happened?”

  Jason took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the wet cobblestones.

  “I was on my way back. I heard voices… loud ones. Something felt wrong. I checked it out – two guys beating him like it was a game. I knew I couldn’t take them alone. So I found you.”

  The officer nodded, switched on a small audio recorder, and let it run – unhurried.

  “Thank you,” he said, genuinely. Not mechanical, not a rehearsed line. “Many would’ve looked away. You didn’t. That deserves respect.”

  In the background, the two attackers were wordlessly escorted into the patrol vehicle. No excessive force, but clear control. The officers worked quietly, methodically – with a hint of the quiet fury that comes from seeing how low humans can sink.

  Jason watched them go. Somewhere within him, pride stirred – not loud, not arrogant. More like a warm ember.

  Maybe this was the first step. Maybe, he thought, he wasn’t as lost as he’d believed.

  And maybe… he’d only just begun to truly live in this new world.

  Crazy what I’ve seen since waking up on the space station.

  Well, at least for someone who spent most of his time at home.

  But okay, this little spectacle wore me out.

  I’ll lie down again at home, then focus on what really matters.

  After all, I want a better life here than I had before.

  And tomorrow, Sunday, I’ll inform myself as much as possible.

  Jason spoke with a composed, determined voice.

  He strode down the street at a steady pace until he finally arrived.

  Back in his apartment, he colpsed onto the bed to process the day’s events.

  Everything was still new to him, wrapped in the veil of novelty he’d have to adjust to.

  Anyone would’ve been overwhelmed with information at this point, needing to lie down and sort through it all.

  Now we shift focus back to Dr. Kain at the nding zone.

  Eventually, the question arises: What happened? What did he do?!

  Sector 14 – the mere name sent a cold shiver down the spines of even the most hardened scientists on Rosina.

  No public pce, no courtroom.

  Sector 14 was known among researchers and military personnel only for what it truly was: A pce where mercy wasn’t expected.

  Only truth – in its rawest, bloodiest form.

  Dr. Kain stood as the soldier ordered him. His hands were cuffed – more symbolic than necessary. The man was broken.

  Yet – his gaze, that faint, almost mocking smile on his lips – it hinted he hadn’t revealed everything yet.

  “Sector 14, huh,” Kain muttered as he was led off the ship. “Fine. Then we’ll start there, sorting this chaos.”

  The soldier escorting him scowled. “Just shut up, Kain.”

  Kain grinned. “Why? Because you know what I know? Or because you suspect what I’ve done?”

  The soldier’s grip tightened. The walk through the hangar was silent, aside from the metallic echo of their steps. The other soldiers avoided looking at him. No mockery, no comments.

  Only silence. And silence was worse than anything else.

  Later, in Sector 14’s interrogation room:

  The door smmed heavily behind him. A single table, two chairs, a mirror.

  Cold, buzzing light.

  Dr. Kain didn’t sit. He simply stood, wrists twisting slightly as the cuffs clicked. Then the door opened again.

  A man in a bck uniform entered.

  Mid-50s, sharp features, no visible rank – a sign he held authority beyond any insignia.

  “Dr. Elian Kain,” the man said calmly, not sitting. “Former lead geneticist of Trivax 7 Station. Responsible for unofficial projects 301 to 317 – all developed outside the Ethics Committee, mostly tested on unregistered individuals. Including children.”

  Kain raised an eyebrow. “Gd to see someone’s finally interested in my work.”

  The man smmed a file onto the table, letting a photo slip out. A little girl.

  Nine maybe. Pale skin, bald patches, a gaze like gss. “Do you remember her?”

  Kain fell silent. A faint flicker of… regret? Guilt? No. Something else. Perhaps just exhaustion.

  “She was one of the first. Project 304. She survived. But what you took from her – that’s irreparable.”

  “I wanted… to cheat death,” Kain said quietly. “You call it cruelty. I call it progress. Every breakthrough demands sacrifices.”

  “You didn’t make sacrifices, Kain. You tore people apart. Children destroyed. All for a theory never approved.”

  Kain met his eyes now – cold, piercing. “You’d all have wanted it if it worked. And you know it.”

  A long silence followed.

  Then the man stepped closer, his voice dropping – urgent: “I won’t lecture you morally. That’s over. But listen, Kain: In the Kingdom of Rosnekk… we don’t forget. And we don’t forgive. You will talk – everything you know. Because you’re not the one researching here anymore. You’re the b rat.”

  Kain ughed dryly. “How poetic.”

  But for a split second, fear flickered in his eyes.

  Cut back – Jason, next morning.

  Sunlight crept through the gss facade of his apartment. The rainclouds of yesterday had cleared, but the air was still cool.

  Jason sat at the small table, staring into his drink. The previous night’s blood, the interrogation, the officers’ faces – all echoed in his mind.

  He had slept, yes. But it wasn’t restful. Too many questions.

  Why was he being transported with such security measures?

  And why did Jason feel a strange unease at the sound of that name?

  He took a deep sip.

  “Dr. Kain,” he muttered. “What the hell are you, really?”

  An early Sunday morning on Rosina.

  The metallic skin of the city glittered in the soft light of sunrise. In the distance, the gentle hum of hovering vehicles, the occasional beep of a maneuver, the rhythmic ticking of a faraway traffic light.

  Even Rosina, this never-sleeping megacity, allowed itself a hint of peace in the early hours.

  Jason leaned his forearm on the balcony railing.

  The stainless steel was still cool from the night, faintly damp from the dew that clung despite the artificial atmosphere. With a fluid motion, he pulled a cigarette from the half-open pack, lit it with a small, almost ceremonial flick, and inhaled deeply. The smoke was rough, but soothing.

  “The good old Dr. Kain…” he murmured as the smoke curled from his lips.

  “Hope he gets what’s coming to him. Honestly – as his test rat, I’d give his hotel a solid two out of ten. If that.”

  A crooked grin fshed across his face. The ash on his cigarette grew longer. Yet his gaze didn’t drift to the skyscrapers this time – it turned inward.

  “Well. Not important anymore,” he said half-aloud into the quiet.

  A light breeze rustled the chrome vines on the balcony – part of Rosina’s automated greenery system.

  Leaves whispered softly as fine dust danced in the sunlight.

  Jason watched them – lost in thought.

  What mattered now, he told himself, was understanding his surroundings better.

  “When you look around more, more can happen.”

  He remembered yesterday – the alley, the blood, the weight of his decision to intervene… and then there was something else.

  “Damn… the salesgirl…” He frowned.

  “Didn’t she write her number down? What was her name again… Max? Merlin? No, those were all male names…”

  He flicked the ash over the edge; a tiny glow plunged into the depths.

  “Mei… right. I think her name was Mei.”

  A sudden surge of energy ran through him. Jason stubbed the cigarette out in the wall console, stood up, and padded barefoot back into his apartment.

  The floor beneath his feet was smooth and cool. A faint hum came from the climate control, keeping the interior comfortably reguted.

  He didn’t search long – the note still y beside the smart screen on the kitchen counter. Scribbled with a real pen, slightly smudged at one corner. A relic that felt almost romantic in Rosina.

  Back on the balcony, he sank into the chair, stretched out his legs, and pulled out his communicator. The screen glowed softly. With a slight tremor in his fingertips, he typed the number – nerves vibrating as he opened the message interface.

  “So… what do you write to someone who gets excited over Bao restaurants?”

  He grinned. The thought of her smile when she enthusiastically described fluffy dumplings made it almost too easy.

  The message was quick – casual, cheeky, but not too forward:

  “Hey Bao Lady. All good?”

  He reread it, leaned back, the morning sun casting light across his face. Then he hit “Send.”

  Sent.

  A soft tone confirmed it – and then only waiting remained. The quiet buzz of the city, the distant wail of a siren somewhere in the lower sectors – and the tingling under his skin when you don’t know what comes next.

  Jason closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Side quest unlocked?” he murmured with a crooked smile. “Let’s see.”

  The screen flickered.

  Jason stared at the sent message: “Hey Bao Lady. All good?”

  A gust of wind rustled the balcony pnts, carrying the scent of synthetic floral aroma – a standard in Rosina’s air filters.

  He wondered if it was too casual. Or not enough? Or just right?

  Then – a soft ping.

  A new message blinked. Mei’s reply.

  Mei:

  Bao Lady? (happyface-emote) Okay, you definitely remembered what I rant about.

  All good… well. Good is retive. I had a fight yesterday, but after you left. Then stress with my boss, who’s also my dad.

  And then YOU with your message. Honestly made me smile.

  What’s up with you, hero of the dark alleys?

  Jason blinked. The “hero of the dark alleys” was clearly more than a joke. She knew. Or at least, she’d heard.

  He grinned involuntarily – yet felt that prickle at the back of his neck. This wasn’t just small talk. Her message felt… heavier. Beneath the emojis and lines lingered something buried. Fatigue. Maybe mistrust.

  He typed:

  Jason:

  Didn’t think my reputation had spread through Rosina already (smile-emote).

  And wow, sounds like a rough night. If you ever need a break – Bao’s on me. You owe me an expnation why this stuff’s supposedly magical anyway.

  And… thanks for replying.

  He hesitated. Gnced around. The sun had risen higher, casting sharp reflections on the opposite gss facade. Below, a delivery drone carrier buzzed past. Everything seemed normal. And yet – that underlying feeling of: Something’s coming.

  Another ping – this time faster.

  Mei:

  You, Jason…

  There are people who talk about you. Not many, but the ones who listen know what you did yesterday.

  Just a warning: In Rosina, every action sends ripples. And not all of them are good. Watch yourself, okay?

  Jason felt the air suddenly thicken.

  A drop – plop – nded on his hand. Another on his knee.

  Then, almost silently, it began to drizzle. A fine, warm rain unique to Rosina – not falling from the sky, but released from micro-valves reguting the sector.

  The perfect moment to stand up, breathe deeply – and realize:

  This Sunday wouldn’t be as quiet as he’d hoped.

  Jason read Mei’s st message again.

  “…every action sends ripples.”

  Her words carried casualness, yet pierced him like a needle – sharp and precise. He shook himself, took a deep drag, and flicked the ash over the railing.

  A gust of wind blew the smoke sideways as a mechanical street sweeper hummed monotonously below.

  He grinned, grabbed his device, and typed:

  Jason:

  Ripples, huh? Then I hope mine spin stylishly.

  And hey, no worries – I never leave home without a cigarette, pocketknife, and tent escape reflex.

  He stood, stretched. The cigarette was half-burnt. In the background, the distant wail of a siren – not an emergency, just routine. Jason stepped back into the apartment, the cool floor soothing against his bare feet.

  Ping.

  Mei:

  Pocketknife? Please say that’s not a compensation thing.

  You’re a bit weird, Jason. But in this city, that might be exactly what’s needed.

  He sat on the couch, legs up, typing with a crooked grin.

  Jason:

  I call it a “portable argument enhancer.”

  And weird? In this city, that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.

  A moment passed, then another. The clock read 10:17 AM. The fridge hummed in the kitchen, rain pattered steadily outside. A rhythm, almost meditative.

  Then came the next message. Longer this time.

  Mei:

  Alright, “portable debater,” how about a real quest goal?

  I’ll work another shift ter, but afterward you can pick me up – wanna grab Bao at Lee-Bao-Shop?

  16:00. You bring the jokes, I bring the compass? Deal?

  Jason sat up slightly. A date. A real meeting. He frowned, not because it unsettled him, but because something about it… felt unusually direct. In Rosina, people rarely issued invitations. Not without reason.

  He replied:

  Jason:

  Deal. But if you tell me the sauce is “life-changing,” I’m just walking out backward.

  Mei:

  You wouldn’t be the first.

  But don’t stand still too long – Rosina swallows what thinks too slowly.

  Jason lowered his device slowly. Her words sounded like a joke – but somehow, they weren’t.

  He stood, stretched again, tossed the cigarette into the ashtray, and headed for the shower.

  As the water poured down, he thought. Not about Bao. Not about sauce.

  But about his charm.

  I didn’t know anything – that Rizz works the same everywhere.