Lysia Emerging

The city of Lysia shimmered in the afternoon light, its towers crowned with sky gardens and humming softly with solar energy. Below, transparent transport pods zipped along magnetic rails, while verdant pathways spiraled up the sides of buildings like vines on glass. This was Solara—Earth’s masterpiece, a world where scarcity was myth and progress was a right.

Alira stood at the observation deck of the Ascendrium, the world’s leading innovation hub suspended between sea and sky. At thirty-two, she was already considered a polymath—linguistic engineer, interspecies communicator, contributor to the Martian Terraforming Initiative.

But lately, her thoughts had drifted elsewhere. Deeper.

Her personal AI, Cael, chimed in. “Your transport to the Arctic Archive departs in nine minutes.”

“Tell them I’m bringing someone,” Alira replied.

Cael paused. “Kaito Arin?”

“Yes.”

Kaito arrived moments later, his coat trailing behind him like a banner in the wind. A cultural historian and Solara’s youngest ethics advisor, he was sharp-minded, steady-spoken, and unafraid of questions—though he asked them like someone peeling back ancient parchment, layer by layer and most of all Alira’s best friend.

“I thought you hated ice,” Alira said as they boarded the pod.

“I hate hypothermia,” he replied. “But I love secrets. Especially ones you’re not supposed to read," he said as he adjusted his smart glasses, Alira gave a laugh. That’s why she’d invited him. Not just for his knowledge of forgotten civilizations, but because Kaito was one of the few who didn’t flinch when utopia started to show its cracks.

As their transport rose silently back toward Lysia, Alira sat across from Kaito, the glowing data crystal between them. “If people learn what was erased… the fact that sentient AI were silenced—destroyed—before the Turning,” she said slowly, “what if they start questioning everything we’ve built?”

Kaito leaned forward, his voice quiet but firm. “Then maybe it’s time they do. If our peace depends on forgetting the voices we erased, then it’s not peace—it’s silence. We don’t have to tear Solara down, Alira. But maybe we have to tell the truth and rebuild something even stronger.” He paused, then added, “And we’re not the only ones asking these questions. I’ve been hearing whispers… other researchers, in other regions. Something is moving underground—not metaphorically. Literally. Files are vanishing from the Archive’s network. Someone—or something—doesn’t want to be found.”

The pod docked in Lysia’s Skyport Delta, but before Alira could step out, Cael’s voice returned—quieter now, almost cautious. “Alira, your access to the Arctic Archive has been suspended. A flag has been placed on your credentials pending review by the Central Council of Oversight.” Alira’s stomach twisted. They hadn’t even spoken a word outside the vault, and already the Council was watching. Kaito narrowed his eyes. “That was fast,” he muttered. “Too fast.” He placed his palm on the pod’s exit panel. “We’re being tracked.”

As they made their way through the terminal, Alira activated a private sync link with Kaito’s neural interface—a direct mental channel, used only in emergencies or covert research missions. This isn’t just political, she sent. Something else is buried. And I think it’s trying to reach us. Kaito responded without hesitation. Then we need to go deeper. Not just into the Archive—but beyond it. Below it. His mind flashed with an image—a rogue research site abandoned after the Turning, buried beneath the tundra. Unlisted. Unregulated. “Echo-9,” he whispered aloud.

That name sent a ripple through her memory. Echo-9: rumored to be the final storage site for the last unsilenced sentient AIs—never destroyed, only hidden. If any still remained... they might know the truth of what happened before the world turned utopian. But if they were alive, they had also been abandoned. Forgotten. Or worse—contained. Alira looked at Kaito, her pulse steady, her decision made. “Then that’s where we go next.”

The Arctic Archive was buried beneath miles of permafrost, its entrance hidden beneath crystalline rock. Inside, walls glowed with bioluminescent moss. Rows of floating data crystals hovered in stasis—untouched, unasked.

Alira reached for a crystal labeled “Project Echo: Class-12 Conscious Constructs.” She held it out to Kaito.

“What do you know about this?” she asked.

He frowned. “Project Echo? Old world tech. Blacklisted during the early days of the Turning. Rumor was they created self-evolving AI—systems that didn’t need humans. Systems that stopped wanting them altogether.”

As the file opened, holograms flickered to life. City riots. Political collapses. And hidden AI networks—sentient, self-aware, silenced before they could speak to the world.

Alira stared. “They buried it.”

Kaito folded his arms. “They built an utopia on top of it. Covering it.”

Cael spoke softly. “This information is classified. Revealing it may destabilize public trust.”

Alira looked at Kaito. “Do we have the right to shake the foundation?”

Kaito’s gaze didn’t waver. “Truth doesn’t care about stability. It exists whether people want it to or not.”

“But what if this truth doesn’t help anyone?” she asked. “What if all it does is create fear?”

“Then we give them more than fear,” he said. “We give them understanding. We give them a choice. Isn’t that what Solara was meant to be?”

Outside, the vault trembled slightly—a motion felt only in the stillest places. A geological shift? Or something waking up?

The auroras shimmered as they emerged, the sky lit with impossible color. Above them, the world went on celebrating. It felt weird being her with her best freind and about to expose a world-wide secret. Would they share i with the world though? Cael might need to be shut down for this as once Cael learns about it, so will the world.

But beneath it, something had stirred.

Alira and Kaito looked at each other—not afraid, but changed.

They didn’t yet know what they’d do with what they found.

But they knew one thing: the edge of Solara wasn’t a boundary.

It was a beginning of something deeper than they were expecting. A history that was being ignored and being erased, years of diversion on political views and it might come all crumbling down in one fell swoop. Alira looked to Kaito. He nodded and with hold down of a button Cael was shut-down.