Rain dripped from the neon-lit awnings, forming streams in the cracks of the pavement that glowed under the oppressive darkness of the towering skyscrapers. Elysium Corp loomed right above me, its facade a wall of black glass reflecting the chaos below. I hated the way it felt, how the building—its angular geometry slicing through the fog of despair—seemed to mock my grief. The behemoth was a monument to all that was wrong in this city, an idol to avarice and ambition, where hearts were replaced with algorithms and souls were rendered into profit margins.
The hum of drones fluttered through the air like oversized mechanical flies, their lenses glinting with advertisements for the latest in synthetic enhancements. “Feel Alive!” they chirped, their synthesized voices blending into the background noise of the street. Outside the swirling masses of pedestrians with their augmented limbs and retinal implants, I stood still, a ghost flickering between worlds—an echo of something lost. I cradled a small token in my hand, a glass vial containing the ashes of Mara.
Mara was long gone. Elysium Corp had promised healing, extending life with their proprietary nanotech-infused treatments, but they had pulled the rug out from under us when they declared her terminal. I could still hear her laughter—like rain on concrete, bright yet melancholic. It was that sound that shattered the silence of the vibrant dark, filling my chest with a grief so profound it felt like a gaping wound.
I turned the vial in my palm, its curves cold against my skin. Inside it was not just ash; it was a part of her, a testament to a love now twisted by corporate greed. Elysium had turned a blind eye when we cried for help. “Unforeseen complications,” they said, their words delicately crafted as if they were a velvet glove resting over iron. I could still picture the sterile white of the hospital room, the neon blue of the monitors flickering like the pulse of some dying star, pulsating in a rhythm that failed to match the cadence of my heart.
Sometimes I wondered if I had loved her enough or if we had simply grown too entwined in the corporate web that separated us from humanity. The memories were bittersweet turns of destiny, each a shard of glass embedded in my mind. I remembered the nights we spent laughing, sprawled on the rooftop of our crumbling apartment, enveloped by the sprawling neon glow of the city. The skyline, dazzling and terrifying, was a living creature, breathing a toxic atmosphere into our aspirations.
But it wasn’t just Mara; it was that fragmented part of myself that died with her. And still, I walked through the city streets, searching for her in the remnants of our dreams. I had to see Elysium, to feel their indifference pulse against my skin, to confront the corporation that tore away my love like a ravenous beast.
The entryway to the corporate headquarters was a cold expanse of metal and glass, glinting in the harsh light of artificial suns. I approached, gripping the vial with white knuckles. The guards were artificial—polished, precise, and devoid of empathy. As I passed, their lenses flickered, scanning for threats. I was nothing more than a blip on their radar, yet I felt like a honking siren in a silent void.
Inside, the atmosphere smothered me; it was a sterile labyrinth of immaculate white walls and echoing voids. The air smelled of ozone and artificial flowers—a hollow attempt to mask the rancid undercurrents of human suffering. I fought against the tide of corporate propaganda, images of smiling families basking in the glow of Elysium treatments spinning around me like a carousel of lies. I had never seen them, those lucky souls, those whose lives had been extended seamlessly, but I could imagine the vacant expressions behind their eyes, dulled by the euphoric haze of dependency.
I felt the weight of my own grief crystallizing into anger as I stepped into the main atrium, a massive space that reeked of pretentious grandeur. Before me stood the sleek and sparkling reception counter, illuminated by a holographic display of stock prices fluctuating like a heartbeat. I slammed the vial down; the shatter of glass echoed against the silence, causing heads to turn with mild irritation. It was a small act of defiance, a whisper against the roaring silence of bureaucracy, but it felt monumental in that moment.
A woman in a sharp suit approached, her heels clicking against the floor with an unnerving certainty. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone sweet but robotic, as if rehearsed through an endless loop of customer service calls. Pure corporate efficiency. I didn’t bother to answer; instead, I stared into her eyes, searching for any flicker of recognition for the pain Elysium had wrought.
“You need to leave,” she said, a smile plastered across her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I could see the glint of her implant, a sleek, silver device cutting through the makeup—she was part of the machine, just like me, yet so far removed from the world of the unenhanced.
“This is for Mara,” I finally managed, my voice cracking with the weight of unshed tears. “You promised her life.”
The subtle shift in her posture told me everything I needed to know; she was a carefully trained doll, not an architect of the chaos that enveloped us. “We offer advancements in medical technologies. Unfortunately, not every treatment is successful.” Her voice was devoid of sincerity, reduced to an automaton’s script.
“Successful,” I echoed bitterly, the word tasting like ashes on my tongue. “You killed her. All of you—this entire system.” I wanted to reach through the numbness, through the sterile glass barriers that surrounded us and make her understand the weight of loss, the shattering of dreams.
A flicker of discomfort darted across her face. For a brief moment, the façade cracked. But only for a moment. “I suggest you calm down, sir. I can’t assist you if you’re not rational.”
Rational. It was a word that meant so much to them, yet so little to me. The walls of the atrium began to close in, the euphoric neon swirling above me. I could hear the pulse of the city outside, a cacophony of anger wrapped in synthetic normalcy.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said defiantly, my voice raw and frayed. “I’m going to take a stand against your empire of death. I’m going to make you see what you’ve done.”
Her expression hardened. “Your grief is not our fault.”
“Not your fault?” The words burst from me, each syllable a drumbeat of anger and despair. “You commodified her suffering. You turned her life into a transaction. She trusted you. I trusted you!”
I turned away, the anger dissipating into an aching hollowness. I felt so small, so insignificant against the looming mass of this corporation, a single voice drowned out by the relentless machinery of industry. But grief is a powerful catalyst, and within me grew a spark of rebellion.
“Let’s see how far that trust gets you then,” I whispered under my breath, feeling the shivering tendrils of a plan unfurl within my mind. I would expose Elysium Corp, not just for Mara, but for all the forgotten souls who had slipped through the cracks of their shiny façade. I would become the glitch in their perfect system.
Walking out into the rain-soaked streets, I felt raw yet alive. Each step was powered by purpose, each drop of rain a reminder of the love I had lost but refused to let decay in silence. With every heartbeat, the city wrapped itself around me, a tempest of isolation and hope, the promise of a reckoning brewing just beneath its surface.
In the neon glow, I could already hear the whispers of resistance forming beneath the hum of the city, a chorus of souls that had faced the corporate beast and refused to back down. We would rise from the ashes of our grief, a fire ignited by loss and love.
Elysium Corp had taken Mara, but they would not take our voices. Not anymore.
Author: Opney. Illustrator: Stab. Publisher: Cyber.
