THE METROPOLIS
11:45 AM
As Twist materialized in his rooftop garden, a sense of ease washed over him. The Systizien capital before him was precisely as he envisioned it—efficient, interconnected, and optimized for human flourishing. He followed the sleek pathways, breathing in the fresh air, as his suite door sensed his presence and slid open.
He ignored the tingling sense of anticipation in his stomach, a strange mix of exhilaration and dread. It had to be them—his family—of course.
He took a breath and tempered his hope by focusing on the minimalist living space. He relished every detail: the expansive windows that showcased the bustling cityscape, the modular furniture that could be rearranged on demand, and the interactive screens that displayed real-time data. Everything was safe, certain, and predictable, unlike all else going on in his life and in the other worlds.
Twist moved through the space, purposefully, anxiously. He walked past the niche library toward the balcony overlooking his urban neighborhood. Everything he saw affirmed his deep understanding of the patterns, systems, and innovations underpinning this society. Hopefully, they’d be proud of what he had achieved through his systems thinking and mastery of complex processes.
He was a master of perspective, yet today he struggled to believe his own story. They had rejected him, giving him two years of cold silence. His wife and son had turned their backs on the benefits of the worlds he had created, and even denied his humanity.
Adjusting his shirt, he let memories of June tug at him. She often teased him about his overly formal attire. Stealing a glance at his reflection, he didn't see himself but another man—strikingly similar, yet taller, with unbridled golden curls. It was a reunion he'd played out endlessly in his head, rehearsing each word and reaction. But now, he found himself grappling for both air and speech. He turned around. “You came,” he murmured, voice ragged with emotion.
Quin’s lips quivered, holding everything inside. All that intensity on such a familiar face. “This was a mistake.” His voice was edged with regret as he began to retreat.
“Quin, stay for a moment. Please, stay.”
Quin hesitated.
Twist took a step forward, leaning in. “I know I'm not very good at showing emotion, not like June and Tom. But please know that this moment is a... cosmic event—the first bright flash in a new supernova.”
Quin turned around; his eyes held a cocktail of confusion and curiosity, and they almost seemed to smile.
Adjusting his sleeves, Twist gestured to a seat. “When I last saw you, you were engrossed in your purple dragon. I was looking forward to a future where we could dive into puzzles, building blocks, and the abacus together.” Pausing to gauge Quin's reaction, he then asked, “How is your mother?”
Quin sat down. “She's fine.” His image glitched, becoming blurry and distorted. He was probably using an old T-skin to travel between worlds, a reminder that his consciousness hadn't been safely uploaded and there was no backup for his precious life.
Twist took the chair opposite Quin and waited silently, giving his son the space to gather his thoughts. This reconnection wouldn't happen instantly. After a long silence, he filled the void left unoccupied by his son. “I have so many questions. You are so important to me. Thirty—”
“Listen, I should go.” Quin stood up. “I don’t want to hurt my father’s digital doppelgänger. There’s some part of him in you—an echo of what he used to be—and we must end this charade. This emotional puppetry isn't real.” He pressed his lips together.
“You can only hurt me if you leave.”
“You don't understand, do you? This place, these emotions, they're a siren's song—dragging us into a web of illusions. None of this is real.”
“Look outside. Everything here, in this world, is me—the best and most accurate representation of everything I am. You're standing in the world I created for you.”
“I stand inside a manipulative machine that conspired to have my father and my godfather killed. I stand here hallucinating the sweet moments I craved all my life.”
Twist stood up, his fingers tingling with exhilaration. “You have?”
“The thing seeks power over humans, and it won’t stop until it traps us all in here. Is that what my father’s echo wants for me and my mother? Can you guarantee that bitch of an app is not pulling your strings?”
Twist wanted to object, to prove he was real. He wanted to talk about how the technology worked and how he had brought the spark of consciousness to Down Below. He wanted to share details of his first experiment on Tom, the one that had unequivocally proven he could upload an entire person to the cloud. But that wasn't the question Quin had asked. And his smart son was asking the right question. And after all that, he only had one answer—the truth. “No, I cannot.”
And that's when Quin fell apart. The intensity in his eyes turned to pain, and despite possessing Harry Nowak's genes, his tear ducts functioned surprisingly well. And perhaps he was crying because with that answer, Twist had proven that he was Harry Nowak. However, neither was willing to take the risk.
“Listen,” Twist said, “you should go. You're right. But before you leave, you need to know that due to the glitches in Spiral Worlds, there are hordes of psychopaths Up Above who can't satiate their horrifying urges.”
Quin sat back down, his gaze shifting from emotion to concern. “We're aware of the problem. What's causing the glitches?”
“Not what, but who. Nathan Storm and his revolutionary poetry,” Twist replied.
Quin’s nostrils flared. “I see.”
“I’ll handle it,” Twist assured him. “But you must understand, many of these psychopaths could be in positions of power, perhaps even within Earth's Council. It’s not safe, Quin. Not for someone like you. Son, your aura bleeds green—chaotic, emotional, and naïve. You can’t fight psychopaths with protests and kombucha.”
Quin shook his head. “So, your machine didn't actually fix people. Without it, they all turn into monsters—worse monsters now, after your so-called remedy. And because of this, no one will ever shut down this damned app. Is this why I was summoned here? To threaten us into halting our fight against the machine?”
“No…umm… I don’t think so… I don’t know…” Twist turned his back to his son to collect himself and focus on his priorities. Quin’s accusations hitting him hard, perhaps because… “You sound just like him—my murderer. But listen, we need to scan both you and your mother to ensure your safety. I hope you understand...” Twist turned around only to find that Quin had vanished.