The neon haze of the city glowed through the rain-slicked streets, flickering like a broken heartbeat. I stood in the shadows, my back pressed against the cold metal of a long-abandoned kiosk, the rusted remnants of a once-bustling marketplace. The sirens wailed in the distance, but they felt muted, like an echo reverberating through a cave, as if the city itself were trapped in its own kind of stupor. I clenched my jaw, feeling the familiar throb at my temples—a relentless pulse that surged with the rhythm of the rain.
Teleportation technology had long since ceased being a mere novelty. It had evolved from the fringe into the lifeblood of quick cash and rapid escapes. The lower levels of society thrived on it, a heart that pumped stolen dreams through the veins of its inhabitants. But with progress came consequences, and the cost of instant movement was high, straining the fragile fabric of reality itself. Every jump left ripples, and every leap into the void demanded a price—one that I had learned to pay with interest.
I was a private detective, or at least that’s what I told myself while chasing down leads in this gritty metropolis. The headaches, like a persistent drummer pounding out a rhythm of madness in my skull, had become a part of my identity. They danced in time with the electric pulses of the city, filling my senses with a static that often clouded my thoughts. I could always feel the faint echo of each teleportation echoing through me, like aftershocks from a distant earthquake—I was tethered to this city in ways I couldn’t fully understand.
Tonight, I was on the trail of a missing person. Not the usual runaways or lost souls drowned in the neon glow, but someone important: a researcher with ties to the city’s central teleportation network. Her name was Lila Veroux, and her disappearance was a message, a warning rippling through the underbelly of the system. I lit a cigarette, the acrid smoke curling up into the damp night air, and fought the tightening grip of another headache.
My search led me to the back alley of a rundown bar called The Flickering Light, a hub for low-lifes and teleportation smugglers. Inside, the stale smell of sweat and desperation hung thick, punctuated by the flickering overhead LEDs that buzzed like angry hornets. I slipped through the door, the familiar thrum of the place washing over me—a sea of voices clashing with the pulse of synthetic beats. My head throbbed in time, blurring the edges of the dimly lit space.
“Hey, you, detective!” a voice cut through my fog. It was Max, a guy who’d sold his soul for a pocket full of credits. He was perched on a stool, his face shadowed but recognizable—a patchwork of old bruises and new scars. “You looking for someone?”
I walked over, steadying myself against the bar. “Lila Veroux. You heard anything?”
Max nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, I know the name. Heard she was digging too deep into the teleportation algorithms. People like us can’t afford to think too hard, you know?” He chuckled, but the sound was hollow. “Last I heard, she was seen near The Fracture.”
The Fracture. A district where teleportation technology frayed and twisted reality itself, a place where the laws of physics often took a backseat to human greed and desperation. “How do I get there?” I asked, knowing that the throbbing in my head would only intensify as I moved closer to the chaos.
Max leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “You can jump—it’s a straight shot, but… it ain’t safe. The way things are out there, I wouldn’t count on getting back.” His words hung in the air like a threatening specter, the room began to sway slightly, and I felt my stomach churn.
But I had to go. My instincts gnawed at me, urging me to push through the pain. I slipped him a few notes—expired credits—before muttering my thanks and heading towards an alley that led to one of the teleportation spots.
The air was electric with unease as I approached the shimmering portal, a distortion in the air that promised a swift passage. I positioned myself, focusing on the coordinates I’d memorized. With a deep breath, I stepped through the warped threshold, a cacophony of lights and sounds engulfing me.
In an instant, the world twisted. My skin prickled with static—my headache surged. The sensation was akin to being pulled apart and slammed back together. I landed in The Fracture, disoriented and nauseous, struggling to regain my bearings. The streets here are a twisted network, alleyways that sputtered with malfunctioning tech and derelict structures. Each beat of my heart echoed a throbbing reminder of the teleportation’s aftermath.
I stumbled forward, eyes searching desperately for signs of Lila. The darkness here was suffocating, thicker than the clouds above. I could feel the heat of the city’s pulse resonating in my bones, but it came with a dull ache—a reminder that I was treading on thin ice.
I wandered deeper into the labyrinth, the whispers of the lost echoing around me, their cries mingling with the distant electricity of malfunctioning equipment. A flicker of movement caught my eye—a shadow darting between dilapidated walls. I followed it, driven by curiosity and the lingering pulse of pain at my temples.
The trail led me to a half-sunken shipping container, its surface marked with faded graffiti—symbols of forgotten lives clinging to the edges of this decay. I hesitated at the entrance, the throbbing in my head intensifying, a drumroll to the performance about to unfold. I stepped inside, calling out for Lila.
Silence.
Then, a voice cut through the dark. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
I turned, recognizing the silhouette of a woman emerging from the shadows. It was Lila—but something was off. Her eyes glinted with a strange intensity, a flicker of recognition mixed with fear. “They’re watching, always watching,” she stated, urgency lacing her words.
“Who?” I croaked, feeling the relentless pulse push against the confines of my skull.
“The networks, the ones who control teleportation. They know what I found out.” She stepped closer, her presence both familiar and disconcerting. “I uncovered something about how the jumps are altering our reality, reshaping consciousness itself. The more we use it, the more it feeds on us.”
A tremor ran through me—the headache surged violently as if affirming her words. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s a weapon, a tool designed to manipulate lives. The teleporters aren’t just machines; they’re alive in a sense, consuming everything that passes through.” Her expression twisted with fear. “They took me here to silence me, to erase not just my research but my very existence.”
I could feel reality bending around us—a palpable tension thickening the air. I had to get her out, had to keep her safe. But my thoughts scattered like ashes in the wind, the weight of my pain merging with the confusion swirling between us.
“Can we jump?” I asked, my mind racing and the throbbing in my temples intensifying, an oppressive reminder of the clock ticking down.
She shook her head. “Only if we can stabilize the connection. They’ve blocked the exits. It’ll take time to recalibrate the call.”
“Then let’s get to work,” I said, despite the pain lancing through me. Together, we rifled through the remnants of her experiments, trying to piece together the fragments she had salvaged from her stolen research. Each moment stretched into eternity—like grasping at smoke with fingers too slow to catch it. The headache pushed deeper, merging with the electric pulse of the technology around us.
And then, the ground shook.
The walls of the container groaned as if protesting against the very act of existence. “They’re coming,” Lila whispered, fear cracking her voice. “They’ll stop us.”
I could feel the surge of adrenaline coursing through me, competing with the pain that had become my constant companion. “We have to move—now!”
As reality warped around us, we hurriedly set up the last components of her makeshift teleportation device. Her hands were steady, while mine trembled, the throbbing crescendoing into a blinding haze that threatened to undo me. Time twisted, stretching into an agonizing eternity as I struggled to focus through the pain.
Finally, with a final flick of a switch, the air crackled, and the portal began to form—a shimmering pathway that pulsed invitingly, each oscillation a reminder of the risk. “This way!” Lila yelled, her voice clear against the chaotic backdrop of the crumbling reality around us.
Together, we leaped into the electric void, the world collapsing in on itself, the air filled with the tension of a million unfulfilled desires—each one a potential path, each pulse a heartbeat lost in the chaos.
The jump hit harder than any I had experienced, a violent rattling that sent a shockwave through my core. I felt my mind stretch, the pressure rising to a point where clarity and chaos merged. For a moment, I was weightless, a ghost hovering on the edges of sanity. Then with a crashing force, we landed—hard.
I opened my eyes to find myself sprawled on a familiar concrete slab—the teleportation hub at the city’s edge. The headache had transformed into a dull ache, a reminder of the frayed edges we had just escaped. Lila was beside me, her breath coming in strained gasps.
“Did it work?” I managed to ask, the words thick on my tongue.
She nodded, shock dancing in her eyes. “For now, we’re safe. But they won’t stop searching for me.”
I took a deep breath, grounding myself against the headache still pulsing within me—a warning that the battle wasn’t over. “Then we’ll make sure they never find you. You have to get this out. You have to tell people what you know.”
She looked at me, something fierce igniting behind her gaze. “You… you don’t understand. There are others like me. If they find us, the knowledge will vanish. It’s not just my life—this is about everyone who ever jumped.”
I knew the stakes were higher than either of us could fully comprehend. The throbbing in my head eased slightly as determination replaced despair. “Then let’s start by getting you somewhere safe.”
As we rose to our feet, I felt the city hum around us, its pulse intertwining with my own. The darkness was deep, but we had forged a path through it. Together, we stepped into the uncertain light of the neon city, a world where every teleportation was a chance for salvation or a risk of obliteration.
I tightened my grip on Lila’s arm, ready to face whatever awaited us. The chaos of teleportation could steal a person’s reality, but I would be damned if I let it take her from me. The city loomed ahead, its glittering facade a jagged promise—a reminder that existence was as fragile as the thin line between light and shadow. And I, with the burden of my relentless headache, was ready to traverse it.
Author: Opney. Illustrator: Stab. Publisher: Cyber.
