The world wasn't falling apart at least not visibly.
Markets buzzed, phones pinged, and screens glowed into the late hours. Life trudged on for most people.
But for Amir, the cracks were everywhere, creeping into the edges of everyday reality.
And it all began with a single notification.
Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the dusty window of his shared apartment. The city felt unusually quiet, as if holding its breath.
Amir sat with his back against the wall, his phone in hand, scrolling through headlines.
Politics. Celebrity scandals. Stock market swings.
Just noise.
Then
A bold red banner flashed across his screen.
Breaking: Riots Erupt in Downtown Over Water Crisis!
His heart clenched. The thumbnail showed thick smoke rising over a crowd of people.
He recognized that skyline.
His city.
With a tap, the video filled his screen.
Shaky. Frantic.
People running. Shouting. Tear gas clouds swallowing the streets.
A man hurled a bottle at riot police.
The comment section was already a battlefield:
"This is what happens when the government fails!"
"Corporations are hoarding water, wake up!"
"Climate activists caused this mess!"
Yet… something felt off.
Amir replayed the video, this time focusing on the details.
A security van sped past in the background.
His gut twisted.
He knew that van.
He had seen it before.
Rewinding, he froze the frame. Squinting, he scanned the faded date stamp on the side.
Two years ago.
His grip tightened on his phone.
Fake news.
Someone had taken old footage, spliced it together with dramatic cuts, and thrown it online like a grenade.
Then
His phone buzzed.
Lina: Stay inside. Downtown's crazy
He jumped up, reaching for his jacket.
But his feet stopped before he reached the door.
He had seen how this played out before.
Misinformation could spread faster than truth, turning fear into fire.
This wasn't just a careless mistake.
It was deliberate.
But by who? And why?
The city streets were tense when he finally stepped outside.
Whispers floated from balconies.
Shop owners locked their doors earlier than usual.
Drones hovered overhead, their blinking lights reflecting off glass windows.
At the corner café, two men argued over a phone screen.
"It's the activists' fault!"
"No, it's the corporations!"
Amir pushed forward, his mind racing.
If someone wanted to destabilize the city, planting fake news was a clever start.
And the worst part?
It was working.
Amir wasn't a journalist.
He wasn't a hacker.
Just a college dropout with a sharp eye for patterns.
And right now, noticing might be enough.
Near an alleyway, a small crowd had gathered.
Murmurs filled the air.
Amir followed their gazes
Graffiti. Splashed across the wall.
A symbol.
A minimalist design just a circle with a single line cutting through it.
Beneath it, scrawled in bold letters:
"The Line. Truth Will Rise."
Amir frowned.
He had seen that symbol before.
Online forums. Deep web whispers.
The Line.
A decentralized movement fighting misinformation.
A group shrouded in secrecy half myth, half reality.
A man leaned against a lamppost nearby.
Amir turned to him.
"What's this about?"
The man
"Some underground group. They've been leaving this stuff everywhere."
That night, Amir sat hunched over his laptop.
Encrypted chat rooms. Ghost websites.
Every lead pointed back to The Line.
Activists. Hackers. Journalists.
Some called them saviors. Others branded them vigilantes.
Then
A notification flashed across his screen.
LIVE STREAM: DOWNTOWN IN FLAMES.
Amir clicked.
The video loaded.
A city block bathed in orange light.
Smoke curling into the sky.
Sirens wailing in the distance.
And then
His sister's voice cracked through the speaker.
Lina: Amir, I'm stuck in this mess! People are losing it. Please, help!
His stomach dropped.
His decision was made for him.
The world wasn't falling apart.
But if no one did something—
It would.
And Amir wasn't about to sit back and watch.