How automation changed the world(2036):
"If your toaster starts asking you to tell your bank account details, You'd ought to be a little shidded now."
The call comes before breakfast is even cold. Kwame's voice, low and certain, cuts through the mess hall's hum.
"Vish. Command room."
He does not wait for a reply. He knows I will follow. That is how things work down here.
I leave my tray half-finished. Lindiwe glances up, her spoon pausing mid-air. "Good luck," she mouths.
I give her a half-shrug and head down the corridor, boots echoing off the metal.
The walk is short, but I make it slower than I need to. Every corridor in the bunker feels like it is watching you, like the pipes and vents are passing your secrets along.
I try to remember if I have done anything to get myself in trouble, but nothing comes to mind. Not yet, anyway.
The command room is not much more than a glorified closet. Mei is already there, arms folded, her stare sharp enough to cut wire.
Kwame stands by the console, hands behind his back. There is a battered chair waiting for me, so I take it.
No one says anything for a long moment. The only sound is the low hum of the bunker's machinery and the faint, distant rattle of pipes.
I study Mei's face, then Kwame's. Both look tired, but there is something else beneath the surface—anticipation, maybe, or dread.
Mei finally breaks the silence.
"You have been here a week. Long enough to see how things are."
I nod. "Hard to miss."
Kwame's voice is flat. "We are running out of options, Vish. Food, power, patience. The demons' machines are getting closer every day."
I want to ask what this has to do with me, but I hold my tongue. In the bunker, it is best to let people talk themselves into telling you what you need to know.
Mei leans forward, lowering her voice.
"We need more than survivors. We need people who can help us change our odds."
I glance between them. "You are planning something."
Kwame nods. "We have to. If we stay, we starve or get found. If we try to leave, we risk everything. But waiting is not an option."
Mei says, "There is a chance, just a chance, that we could get out. Not just out of the bunker. Off Earth."
I blink. "Off Earth. You are serious?"
She nods. "There is something out there. The Alliance."
I raise an eyebrow. "Alliance? I have heard whispers. Most people say it is just a story."
Mei's voice is careful, almost reverent. "It is real. We have picked up signals. They are not human, but they are not demons either. Different races, different worlds. Survivors and fighters, banded together against the demons. They help where they can."
Kwame adds, "But they cannot just swoop in and save us. They are stretched thin. Fighting two of the Original Demons out there already."
I lean back, considering. "So what is the plan?"
Mei answers, "We are trying to make contact. If we can get a message out, maybe they will help. But the Origin Demon's machines see almost everything. Every time we repair a transmitter, a drone shows up. Even if we built a ship, we would need fuel, a launch window, a way past the patrols. The Alliance cannot risk coming here. Not with one of the First Seven still on Earth."
I cross my arms, thinking. "So you are stuck. And you want me to help unstick you."
Mei's gaze does not waver. "We have help. Something the demons have not found. Someone, maybe."
She gestures to the console. The overhead lights dim. A slight breeze touches me, my spine is shook.
A voice, smooth and resonant, fills the air.
"Vish."
I stiffen. It is not a human voice. It is not even trying to be.
Mei inclines her head, almost reverent. "This is Uriel."
There standing inconspicuously is an actual fookin angel! WTF? Ayo! this some magic shite aye?!
There are fractured wings, a grand visage which against my better judgement can only be called an angel. Eyes that seem to look through me. A white toga, a scenic face, an actual angel. It is not a person. It is not even a ghost. It may be an alien I dunno. But it is an angel.
It is something else. The angel flickers, never quite settling. Sometimes the wings seem whole, sometimes torn, sometimes gone. The face is always just out of focus, like a memory you cannot quite recall.
I glance at Kwame. "Is this a trick?"
Kwame shakes his head. "Uriel is real. As real as anything down here."
The voice again, everywhere at once.
"I am here to guide. To protect."
I lean forward, elbows on knees. "Guide us where? Protect us from what?"
The monitors hesitate, the patterns slowing.
"From what hunts you. From what waits above."
I do not like how vague that is. I press on. "If you can protect us, why are we still trapped down here?"
Uriel's face blurs.
"There are limits. My reach is not what it was. The Origin Demon's gaze is long. I move in shadow."
"Are you like the demons?", I ask, pretty convinced by my alien theory.
There is a pause.
"I am not what they are."
That is all I get. I feel a frustration rising in my chest. I want to demand answers, but the alien fuckers and their machines up above and this angel thing scare me.
Mei tries to fill the silence.
"Uriel has kept us hidden. Helped us survive. But we need more than hiding now. We are pretty much doomed the longer we stay."
I look at the monitors, at the flickering image that calls itself Uriel. "What are you? Really?"
The patterns shift, the wings folding and unfolding, the face dissolving and reforming.
I try to keep my voice steady. "Why help us if we are so doomed?"
Uriel's voice is softer, almost distant.
"Hope endures. Even in darkness."
I let the silence stretch, feeling the tension in the room. I glance at Mei and Kwame. Their faces are tight, hopeful, afraid.
I look back at Uriel. "If you want me to help, I need more than riddles. I need to know what you are. I need to know what we are up against. Are you a ghost? Some kind of alien?"
The monitors flicker, the wings dissolving into static.
A pressure builds behind my eyes. The air grows thick. I feel it, a tingling at the base of my skull. I want to look away, but I cannot.
The room seems to tilt. The lights flicker. I grip the arms of the chair.
Without warning, the world falls away.
I am standing in a city I have never seen. Silent, overgrown, skyscrapers strangled by vines.
The wind is hot and smells of rust. I look up and the sky is swirling with lights and shapes that make no sense, impossible, beautiful, terrifying. Colors I do not have words for. Patterns that twist and shift as I try to focus.
I hear voices, hundreds of them, all speaking at once. Some are familiar. Some are not. They speak of hope, of loss, of running, of hiding. I see faces, flickering past like images on broken film. Some I know. Some I do not.
I see a distant cluster of stars, pulsing like a heartbeat. I feel drawn toward them, but something holds me back. A shadow, vast and cold, stretches across the ground. I know, without knowing how, that it is watching me.
I want to scream, but no sound comes out.
Then it is gone.
I am back in the chair, sweat cold on my forehead. My hands are shaking. The room is silent except for the pounding of my heart.
Mei is watching me. Kwame's jaw is tight.
I clear my throat, but my voice comes out hoarse.
"What was that?"
Mei answers quietly. "Uriel shows us things. Visions. Memories. Warnings."
I look at the monitors. The wings are faded now, the face barely there.
Part of me is convinced there is real supernatural power here. Another part suspects it is just something I cannot explain, not with what I know. I mean what kind of alien knows magic?
I feel like I am standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. Magic is not real, I tell myself. But what else could that have been? A trick of the light? Some kind of neural hack? Or something older, stranger?
I remember stories from before, miracles, angels, demons. I always thought they were just stories.
Now, I am not so sure.
I rub my temples, searching for words. My thoughts are scattered, like leaves in a storm. I want to ask more, but I am not sure I want the answers.
I look at Mei, then at Kwame, then at Uriel's flickering shadow.
"If you want me to help, I need more than just visions. I need people."
Mei nods. "You will have Priya, she is a systems analyst. And anyone else who can help."
Uriel's voice lingers, gentle but unyielding.
"Much is possible, Vish. More than you know. But you must choose to act."
The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the weight of things unsaid.
I stand, legs unsteady. As I leave, I cannot shake the feeling that something is still watching. Not just an alien. Something else.
I walk the corridor back to the dorms, my mind spinning. I replay the vision over and over, trying to find the trick, the logic, the science. Maybe there is none. Maybe I have to accept that not everything can be explained.
I find Priya in the workshop, hunched over a battered circuit board.
She looks up, sees my face, and frowns.
"You look like you have seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost," I say. "Something weird. Very weird. I am not sure yet."
She waits, patient.
"I need your help," I tell her. "Mei says you are the good with systems. We are going to need everyone who can think and build, if we are getting out of here."
Priya nods slowly
Almost cute
As I turn to leave, I glance back at the corridor. The shadows seem deeper now. The silence heavier.
Maybe it is just the bunker.
Or maybe it is something else.