[The year 2193 – September 20th, Genf – The Day After the Elpida Incident]
Genf, the capital of the Lands of Alexithymia, loomed beneath a perpetual shroud of gray, earning its nickname: The Grey City. Toxic clouds, a byproduct of its relentless industrial might, curled from chimneys, weaving through the air like serpents. The haze was as much a part of the city as the towering monoliths of steel and glass that formed its skyline.
Though bleak, Genf operated with mechanical precision. During daylight hours, its streets lay deserted, as if the city itself were holding its breath. The rigid policies demanded that every able citizen fulfill their occupational duties. Only as dusk fell did the city awaken. With the sun slipping below the horizon, an ocean of inhabitants would pour onto the streets, transforming the silent urban labyrinth into a pulsating hive of activity.
Ever since the onset of rapid climate change, spore levels had increased dramatically year after year. Scientists worldwide eventually sounded the alarm, drawing attention to the phenomenon. Geosmin, once dismissed as a harmless byproduct of decaying organic matter, was reclassified as a dangerous bacterium. When combined with airborne toxins such as benzene, dioxin, and other industrial pollutants, it became a potent health hazard. This deadly cocktail posed a particularly grave threat in large urban centers and industrial zones, where the air itself seemed weaponized against human survival specifically in the major industrial zones of the city.
In the capital, autumn had transformed into what could only be described as a warm winter. Snowflakes, robbed of their grace, dissolved mid-air before ever touching the ground, creating a season particularly hazardous for the city's residents.
In response to the growing threat, world leaders mandated the use of specially designed face masks. These masks became a necessity during the Autumn rainy seasons, shielding inhabitants from the toxic fumes that arose from the mixture of pollutants and moisture in the air.
Out on the streets Quarta moved like a shadow. Clad in a hooded black jacket, she cut an unassuming figure against the cityscape, the neon lights refracting off the wet pavement like fragmented stars. The rain, relentless but quiet, kissed her exposed hands, leaving trails of cold water that mingled with the splattered puddles beneath her boots.
"Its raining again..." she muttered to herself, tightening her hood as she approached the towering structure of the Keeper's Headquarters.
The security gates hissed open, granting her entry. Inside, the atmosphere was sterile, the air thick with tension and a faint metallic tang. As she ascended the building, each level seemed more oppressive than the last, the walls narrowing as if to choke out any sense of freedom.
Quarta arrived at the top floor, where the King awaited. Before she could reach the heavy metal doors, they swung open violently, nearly colliding with her. She flinched but held her ground.
Out strode Quinto, Keeper Fifth in rank, his expression a storm of cold indifference. His sharp eyes settled on her briefly, then rolled away in disinterest.
"Huh? Quarta…" he muttered, his voice edged with disdain.
"Good evening," she greeted, bowing slightly out of habit.
"Got a lighter?" he demanded, his tone sharp.
Quarta blinked. "Excuse me?"
"A lighter. Do you have one?"
"No, I don't."
Quinto sneered and deliberately shouldered past her. "Then get out of my face," he spat before storming down the corridor.
Quarta watched him go as she pushed the entrance door, then muttered, "Polished misanthrope…"
The room she entered was vast, dominated by a panoramic window that overlooked the sprawling city. Against this backdrop stood Alexithymia. He held a glass of scotch, its amber hue catching the dim light, his gaze fixed on the city below.
"Ah, Quarta," he greeted without turning. His voice was smooth, almost melodic. "Your presence is always a pleasure."
"Perhaps your so-called emotional cage device doesn't work on everyone..." Quarta remarked pointedly, her words a direct jab at Quinto's vulgar outburst following his exchange with Alexithymia.
Alexithymia appeared in all his splendid grandeur. He wore a tailored black suit with a charming black bow tie, underneath which lay a beautifully designed white shirt, adorned with thin metallic chains that hung over his shoulders. His chiseled jawline lifted with a proud, pleasant smile. His hair was short and dark, with long, wavy curls that looked majestic on him. His dark brown, pensive eyes seemed to belong more to a poet or a dreamer than to the ruler of millions of people.
He was lean yet powerfully built, his skin slightly bronzed by the sun. His neck was fully covered with linear and cubic tattoo artwork that looked sublime on him. The geometric patterns ascended to his neck, merging with large tribal piercings on his left ear. A small, reversed cross tattoo marked his left cheek.
He exuded wiry energy, giving him a youthful demeanor despite having turned 37 this year. His body language embodied that of a charming prince, while his mental strength revealed the confidence of a king.
"As Aristotle once said, 'Perfection can only be attained through continuous improvement,'" Alexithymia replied with an air of detached wisdom. "But today, you are the main heroine of this meeting. Mitera informed me of your Emotional Stasis during your last assignment," he said, his tone shifting to something more clinical. "I was concerned. But seeing you now... I am reassured."
Though his words were smooth, they lacked the warmth of sincerity. Every syllable was meticulously crafted, devoid of genuine empathy.
"You see, this is what Empathic Concern sounds like," he mused, his voice taking on an almost theatrical quality. "Rather fascinating isn't it?"
Quarta narrowed her eyes. There was something unsettling in his demeanor, a calculated unpredictability.
"Since you are here, I shall assume you wish to speak," he pressed, circling her slowly. His presence was both magnetic and menacing. "So then, speak — the table is yours."
Quarta's silence broke with a cold edge. "You knew all along…" she began, her voice low but firm.
"I know lots of things, shall you precise?"
"Do you think I became a 'Keeper' to become another pet of yours?" she inquired furiously. "You've forced a 'Mandate' on me!"
"Wait... You do remember the 'Mandate' phase?!" he sounded extremely surprised.
"Rewriting and manipulating other people's memories and making them act the way 'YOU' would— is that how you operate other 'Keepers' as well?!" she insisted. "Today, I am certain that it wasn't the first time you've done that to me. A year ago, I felt the same thing... My memories being altered or erased somehow. What happened yesterday made it clear to me that it was you playing with my mind all along!!"
Alexithymia completely ignored her questions. "Interesting! Very interesting..." He stalled. "When you first mentioned it, you sounded so vague. I thought there was some kind of mistake... But you remember what happened during the 'Mandate' phase... And that, my dear, is another step to tomorrow!"
"Fascinating?!" she asked, confused.
"It is! The fact that you can maintain 'Multiple Memory Lines' at the same time! So, it was possible..." He waved his hands. "You truly are special."
"I am not your lab rat! I demand that you stop conducting your experiments on me," she said, voice shaking with fury.
"My dear Nion... You are not a lab rat" He shook his hands in disaccord. "You are an extremely valuable piece of progress, you are the future of this world! You've proven my theory that there is a possibility of 'Multiple Memory Lines' within one individual. That's a scientific discovery... But then..." he shifted his tone. "Who do you think you're talking to? You are existing 'FOR ME.' You have a place to live because 'I' allowed it. You have everything you need because 'I' decided so... Don't get ahead of yourself young lady"
"Truly inspiring words from one of the Four Kings of this new world..." she sighed, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
Alexithymia's gaze remained unwavering, but his lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. "I am simply stating the truth," he responded calmly. "The truth as I see it."
"I am simply here to tell you the facts..." He paused dramatically. "You are an official member of the 'Keepers Unit.' It is natural that I have my way to... reassure the quality of your services. You must understand that you all represent the whole continent, and sometimes... I am afraid, you may complicate things. In the past, we've had various cases where a 'Mandate' had to be issued. Sometimes it is a necessity, but I assure you — Mitera System deploys it only in 'Extreme' situations."
"That's what I'm saying... We are your pets," Nion replied.
"Well... Don't be that harsh on yourself. In fact, for your first boarder assignment... the situation got a bit out of control, but this is exactly why these mandates exist, you see," Alexithymia explained.
"I can only see it as a trust issue," Nion mumbled, her voice thick with frustration, the weight of his words pressing on her chest.
Alexithymia's gaze softened for a moment, though the tension in the room remained palpable. He stepped closer, his tone even, yet firm. "Nion, you are a very valuable and, dare I say, an exceptionally unique unit. It's not a question of trust," he continued, his eyes fixed on hers, studying her every move. "It's that you are operating without emotional control—specifically when you step outside the safety of the city."
Her pulse quickened, and she bit back the urge to retort. Instead, she forced herself to listen, despite the growing anger in her veins.
"It's not about trust, as you've formulated it," Alexithymia added, his words like cold precision. "It's about your youth, your lack of self-awareness. Your inexperience. People outside these walls are not like us. They are cruel, manipulative—capable of anything to achieve their goals. And you are too vulnerable to that."
Nion stood motionless, fighting the impulse to snap back. His words hit closer to the truth than she cared to admit, but they also stung with a condescending tone that she despised.
"Vulnerable?" she echoed, her voice low but sharp. "Is that how you see me? As nothing more than a fragile tool that needs constant oversight?"
He didn't flinch. "No," he replied evenly, his gaze unwavering. "But you are a weapon, Nion. A weapon in the wrong hands would be dangerous, especially in a world like this."
Nion swallowed her retort, her heart hammering in her chest. His words felt like chains, heavy and unyielding, but she refused to let them bind her. She would prove him wrong, one way or another.
"Wasn't there a better way to manage the situation? I still feel like I'm being used as a tool... So many useless deaths, I don't want you to use my body in that way... In no way!" Nion sounded furious. "I've spent two years of training to become a 'Keeper' to make things better, to resolve conflicts as peacefully as possible... And here is what I get on my first boarder assignment? Massacring everyone who disobeyed your foreign policies! That's so wrong!"
"I see, I see... Let me return that question to you: would you rather risk your friends' and family's safety for a group of strangers whom you know nothing about?" he asked.
Nion didn't offer an answer, so Alexithymia continued.
"Let's presume that you know absolutely nothing about them, neither their past nor their present. Potentially exposing people who are dear to you because you are experiencing fear or a strong feeling of empathy every time you see someone who is weaker than you are... Just remember that puppy you tried to protect when you were a kid," he said.
"Huh?" Nion inhaled. "We did not know each other...", Alexithymia continued without giving her the chance to finish her sentence.
"Let me elaborate on my thoughts... Think of a situation where you've allowed a group of outsiders into our lands, assumingly under your responsibility. Let's suppose that these family members are great people—respectful and polite. At some point, you will build a great relationship. It would make you feel great and fulfilling – People of the old world called it a good Karma. At some point, they will ask you how they could bring the rest of their family from the outside to join them. It would be natural for them to want to stick together so that nobody feels left out."
"Following this logic, let's assume that in this second group of ten people, there are two men who are mentally unstable because they were forced to leave their hometown. Starting with the moment they successfully reunite with their family, they will live with a strong feeling of nostalgia and deep regret for having left their home country for a new place that they do not particularly like. Soon after, they will begin to complain about their new life and quickly become excluded from the inner family circle," continued Alexithymia.
"I don't get your point," Nion said.
"Just listen..." Alexithymia shushed her.
"So, where was I... Ah! So, these two men will find themselves in an unknown place where they are having difficulties to adapt to the new culture and would end up feeling rejected. The frustration and lonesome would continuedly increase because nobody is willing to understand their predicament. Their frustration will transform into grief and despair... There is a high possibility that these two men will try to attract all kinds of attention by doing random unpleasant things. In the beginning, it could be minor crimes such as stealing, which can, and will, surely evolve into something much more dangerous."
"What are we even talking about?! I'm sorry, but this is so wrong!" argued Nion.
"Huh, and how am I wrong? Please, enlighten me with your thoughts then," Alexithymia challenged.
"You are literally trying to convince me that outsiders are the absolute source of problems and danger without giving me a rational explanation of your thoughts on this matter. Besides, according to you, these people and their actions are the major reasons for our land's potential concerns," said Nion.
"And they are..." Alexithymia replied.
"You are the one who taught us to think twice before acting, but I'm starting to think that the whole Keepers project is operating on blind trust," argued Nion.
"Shall you elaborate," Alexithymia crossed his arms.
"I am more than proud of all the hard work that has been accomplished. You have saved countless lives, and you will undoubtedly save many more. Your devotion to this country is beyond admirable, and I am nobody to judge how you operate," Nion said, her voice softening slightly. "But... you and I, we are still human beings. And that means sometimes, we must step back, reassess our decisions, and view them from another perspective."
Alexithymia returned to his desk, pouring himself a glass of scotch, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Oh, how rude of me," he said, glancing up with a smirk. "Would you like some?" He held up the bottle, offering her a glass.
"Please, let's focus on the current subject," Nion said firmly, her gaze steady as she watched him.
Alexithymia leaned back in his chair, savoring the drink, clearly unfazed. "You... seem quite irritated today. Aren't you?"
"I'm not irritated," she replied with an edge to her voice. "I'm frustrated with your refusal to see beyond the narrow confines of your policies."
He took a sip, almost savoring the tension. "You know, I hated the old times when the elders ruled this country. The propaganda, the lies, the empty promises to keep us complacent—those are things I refuse to repeat."
"Don't you think you're doing the same thing?" Nion asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Only time will tell," he replied cryptically. "For now, my priority is the people within these walls. I will protect them—no matter the cost. If it means sacrificing hundreds or thousands to ensure their safety, so be it."
Nion slammed her report onto the desk, her frustration boiling over. She turned sharply, her back, her voice biting. "Understood."
Alexithymia didn't respond immediately, his eyes flicking to the report she'd thrown down. He leaned back, seeming to enjoy the show, a silent observer to her moral lecture.
"I know that some of the people from the outside world might cause problems," Nion continued, her voice more controlled now. "But how many would those be? Three to five percent of those suffering out there? Surely there is a better way to handle them than executing every single one because they didn't obey your edicts."
She paused, giving him a moment to respond, but when he remained silent, she pressed on.
"Last night, I saw fire coming from the forest across the borders of Elpida. I need your permission to cross the border and investigate that region."
At this, Alexithymia turned sharply, his expression hardening. His voice raised, cold and final. "Rejected."
"I could gather valuable intelligence about the raids coming from Elpida. This could benefit our cause!" she insisted, her tone rising with urgency.
He leaned back, unconcerned, his voice like ice. "Quarta, I will not repeat myself."
"Why?" she demanded, her frustration giving way to desperation.
"Because I decide," he said, his voice final.
Nion's eyes blazed, her anger boiling over. "How many innocent people must die before you realize the cost of your selfish decisions?"
"I've established rules in this country," he said, his tone unwavering. "Those rules must be followed. Whoever disobeys will learn the consequences through force."
"Just listen to me!" Nion's voice shook with intensity.
Alexithymia waved his hand dismissively, signaling the end of the conversation. "End of conversation."
Nion, unwilling to relent, pressed on. "Something's wrong out there. I saw it with my own eyes—families, fleeing from something, desperate to escape.
Alexithymia stood, the calm in his voice belying the weight of his words. "I understand that you're raising your voice to be heard. It's... interesting to hear someone so full of emotions, so alive. Maybe you think I can't understand you, but let me correct you on that."
Her pulse quickened at his words, but before she could respond, he spoke again, his tone chilling. "I wish Seànn had took the throne instead of you."
The words hit her like a slap. Nion's chest tightened, a wave of frustration and sorrow washing over her.
"Look at you," he continued. "Now trying to drag Seànn into this. This frustration you feel—it's not just about her. It's the sadness beneath it. You need time off, Nion. I'll arrange that with Mitera."
She stared at him, incredulous. "Time off? Is that really how this discussion ends?"
"Yes," he replied calmly.
Nion's gaze hardened. "Maybe it's time for you to take a little tour outside yourself. It's easy to control everything from the capital. That piece of junk you made to wear to everyone may control emotions, but you can't tame humans like this forever. Eventually, you'll have to face the consequences."
Alexithymia was silent for a moment, deep in thought. The weight of her words hung in the air between them.
Suddenly, the doors to the room swung open. Seconda, the Keeper ranked second, entered, breaking the tension.