Bright lights flooded my vision as I woke in a white room.
The walls were spotless. Too spotless.
I was cuffed to a chair, metal biting into my wrists, with a cold steel table bolted to the floor in front of me. I did not panic. Panic wastes time. I scanned the room instead.
Empty.
Then I noticed the glass panel to my right. Thick. Reinforced. One-way.
My mood soured.
I waited.
Five minutes passed before the door slid open.
A woman entered and sat across from me. Brown, shoulder-length hair. Matching eyes. No armor. No visible weapon. Just a slate in her hands and a gaze that missed nothing.
She placed the slate down and cleared her throat.
"Leon."
I blinked. "I did not give you my name."
"You did," she replied calmly. "You said it to the child. Our audio picked it up."
Of course it did.
She studied me for a moment. "Good evening."
Evening. I noted it immediately.
"Do you know why you are here?" she asked, her voice reassuring in a way that felt practiced.
I met her gaze. "No."
She smiled faintly. "Every citizen in the Echelon carries a wristband, regardless of ring. It serves as identification and tracking. Do you know why?"
"To maintain accurate population records," I replied, staring straight back at her, "and to monitor residents."
She stood and stepped closer.
"The only verified information we have about you is your name and age. Sixteen. No registered residence. No family record. We obtained even that from your conversation with the child."
She paused, watching my face.
"No reaction," she murmured.
Then she continued. "You are here because a cleanup team detected interference in the residual anomaly field. Containment confirmed it. A resonance event occurred."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"One that both destabilized and stabilized the breach."
She leaned in closer, searching for micro-expressions. Finding none.
"We traced the origin of that resonance to your location."
I spoke carefully. "I was not the only living thing there."
A small smile. "Are you questioning our research division?"
"I am reminding you that mistakes happen," I said evenly. "Whatever caused it could still be out there."
Her wristband beeped.
She glanced down and tapped it. Nanobots flowed from the band, forming a thin auditory interface that slid into her ears.
I clicked my jaw twice.
Her eyes snapped to me.
She tapped her wristband again, listened, then smiled. This time it was not reassuring.
"You are very good at lying," she said. "Our neural scanners show no indicators of stress or deception. But…"
I swallowed.
"My instincts disagree," she continued. "You interfered with your wristband without triggering an alert. That alone makes you a liability."
She straightened.
"And I am here to determine what kind."
Silence settled between us.
"If you are done monologuing," I said, "I have questions."
She hesitated, then leaned against the table. "Ask."
"How long was I unconscious?"
"Nine hours."
That placed it around evening. Seven, maybe later.
"You said you tracked the resonance to me. How did you confirm I was the source?"
She tilted her head. "Interesting."
Before she could respond, I continued. "What did you do with the kid? Who are you? And why am I here?"
Her eyes hardened.
"For that tone, I will not answer," she said flatly. "You will be taken into custody."
Jackpot.
"I refuse."
"You do not have that option."
"I believe I do." I met her stare. "I could kill myself right now. I doubt I am useful to you dead."
Her expression did not change. "I could kill you first and face no consequences."
I smiled. "Then you misspoke earlier. You said custody, not termination."
I let that sink in.
"You need me alive."
She turned away, jaw tight, muttering something under her breath.
After a moment, she exhaled. "You are coming with us to the military."
"No," I said. "The child first."
She froze.
"What do you want?"
"Find his parents."
She studied me, then tapped her wristband. "I will assign a squad."
"Now," I pressed. "High priority."
She closed her eyes briefly, then issued rapid commands into the band.
"Happy?"
"No."
Her patience was thinning. "What now?"
"I am not going anywhere until they are found."
We waited.
Twenty minutes passed.
Her wristband chimed. She answered instantly. "Report."
She listened.
Then she nodded.
"They are alive."
Relief hit me so hard my chest tightened.
"Show me," I said. "A live feed."
She hesitated, then activated the glass panel.
Alex was on the screen, crying as he hugged his parents.
A breath left my lungs that I had not realized I was holding.
"Thank you," I whispered.
The feed cut. The door sealed behind them.
The woman sat across from me again.
"My name is Commander Hale," she said. "Internal Response Team."
I knew it.
Her posture relaxed slightly. Acceptance, not kindness.
"You were present at an active breach event," she said.
"So were many others."
"Yes," she agreed. "None of them caused a resonance spike."
My stomach sank.
"We do not know what you did," she said. "Or if you did anything intentionally."
She leaned back.
"The anomaly destabilized, then re-stabilized for six point three seconds."
She met my eyes.
"That should not happen."
Silence stretched.
"So why am I here?" I asked.
"Because your biometric signature remained coherent inside a radiation envelope that should have liquefied your nervous system."
That explained the headaches.
"And our sensors lost track of the anomaly for the exact duration you were within two hundred meters."
"That is impossible."
"That is why you are interesting."
Not fear.
Interest.
"We are not accusing you," Commander Hale said. "We are evaluating you."
"For what?"
"Containment," she replied. "Disguised as opportunity."
I snorted. "You are really selling it."
"You are sixteen. Ring V. No recorded family."
She tapped her slate.
"You disappeared statistically five years ago."
My fists clenched.
"We offer structure. Training. Answers."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you go into custody," she said calmly. "And remain under observation until you die."
Not a threat.
A fact.
She stood.
"If you accept, you will enter the next cadet intake."
"How many?"
"Three hundred and forty-seven."
"How many survive?"
"About one hundred and twenty."
"And assignments?"
"Fifty."
I laughed quietly.
Figures.
I looked at my reflection in the glass.
Then back at her.
"Fine," I said. "But I am not doing this to save humanity."
Her lips curved slightly.
"None of the good ones do."
She extended her hand.
"Welcome to the program, Leon."
And just like that,
I stopped being a civilian.