Chapter 04

The Bermuda Triangle

Dystopian novel • Published September 22, 2025 • 1456 words, 7-minute read
"In a world where surveillance is absolute, two minds discover that the most dangerous territory is inside their heads."

Arthur sprang to his feet, casting a sharp glance toward the exit.

Arthur: Follow me. We've got thirty minutes before they track us down.

With a precise gesture, he pressed a button on his watch, starting a timer. A soft click confirmed the countdown had begun.

Arthur: Better safe than sorry.

He guided Oscar out of the cafeteria, weaving between the officers. They're looking elsewhere. Shift change. I know their blind spots.

They plunged into the ducts. The air thickened, clammy humidity. Arthur forced open a rusted grate.

The level rooftops. My sanctuary.

The space forced them to brush against each other. Mingled breaths. Below, giant vats like green eggs gleamed in the mist. Hybrid forms floating. Machines exhaling their vapors.

Oscar: Where are you taking me?

Oscar's voice trembled. He's afraid. Or maybe it's the altitude.

Arthur sketched a smile.

Arthur: Where AVABase goes deaf and blind. My personal Bermuda Triangle. We need to talk about tomorrow. The Submersion Trial. Five minutes underwater. Think you can handle it?

He glanced at his wrist. The pill, translucent.

Oscar frowned.

Oscar: Five minutes… I don't know.
Arthur: You're already shaking.

He'll never make it. Why did Katherine pair him with me?

Arthur: Did she explain about my implant?
Oscar: An emotion mole, right?

Oscar shot back with a crooked smile.

Arthur burst into genuine laughter, a clear sound that surprised Oscar, like a rare echo in that too-smooth air.

Arthur: A mole! I like that. This thing tracks me – green to obey, orange to panic, red for the end. But right now… nothing. Just emptiness.

Arthur's voice vibrated, charged with raw energy, almost wild. Oscar looked away for a second.

The two boys stood side by side, gazes fixed on the distance. The green and blue glows of the complex below danced on their faces, cold flashes ricocheting off Oscar's skin, taut with excitement, and Arthur's, motionless, accustomed. For a moment, their features seemed merged in the same luminous pulse, shadows and reflections intertwined.
The city-complex sprawled beneath them, a constellation of green lights piercing the mist. A mechanical bird glided in the distance, fleeting silhouette – surveillance or freedom, impossible to tell. The artificial wind carried hints of metal and ozone.
Arthur: And you, where do you come from? You're hiding something. You must have a plan for the trial.

Oscar hesitated.

Oscar: Level 20. I'm a mentalist.

A mentalist!

Arthur froze. The words hung suspended between them, heavier than the mist.

Arthur: Level 20? I heard some guy there made an agent bleed just by looking at him! Is that true? Could that help you with the trial?

Excitement overflowed. Cascading thoughts – fear of red, contained rage, sudden hope, Oscar who could be the solution, Katherine who knew, tomorrow's test, freedom maybe…

Oscar paled. His eyes rolled back slightly.

What's happening to him?

Arthur: Oscar?

The boy swayed. Arthur saw his pupils dilate, his breathing accelerate.

A beep. Thirty minutes. Shit.

Oscar collapsed. Arthur reached out, caught him just in time. He's light. Too light.

Arthur: I broke you, didn't I? My thoughts… you can hear them?

No response. Arthur lifted him, surprised by how easy it was. Like carrying a bird.

He climbed back down through the ducts, Oscar against his chest. His heart's beating too fast. Shallow breathing. I fried him with my mental chaos.

The corridors. The infirmary. Arthur laid Oscar on a bed.

Katherine appeared, quick, efficient. She set up an IV without a word, but Arthur saw her hands tremble slightly.

She's worried. She cares about him. Why?

Katherine finally met his gaze. In her eyes, no reproach. Just a strange gleam. Hope?

Katherine: He'll be fine. His brain is learning to filter. Next time will be easier.

Next time?

Arthur looked at Oscar, unconscious. What are you really? What does Katherine expect from both of us?

In the silence of the infirmary, one thought imposed itself: I didn't break him. I inhabited him.