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Omi splashed cold water on her face the next morning, staring deep into her brown eyes, searching. Those who had practiced magic alongside her for years seemed overtaken. Words slipped, gestures oddly timed, as if struggling to stay inhabited in their own bodies. Was the same thing happening to her? Would Iota be affected? Could she stop it? As Omi prepared to take Iota to his lessons, Lilit peeked from the hallway. She offered some fruit—or what seemed like fruit. “I’m not hungry,” said Omi. “That’s strange,” said Lilit. “You didn’t eat last night. Now you’re not eating this morning. At least Iota ought to have—“ “He’s not hungry,” Omi snapped, stepping between them. Lilit’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the matter with you?” Without a word, Omi pulled Iota out the door. As they bustled down the street, Iota pulled on her hand. “Mom, I really am hungry. Why can’t I have some fruit?” “You’ll have food at lessons.” “But it’s yucky.” Omi crouched down to eye-level with Iota. “Listen, son. The fruit from home is very bad. Never speak of it and never eat it again, no matter how hungry you are.” “But why?” he asked. Before Omi could answer, a rush of humans crowded by. “What’s going on?” Omi asked. “Execution. The red light drone guy was convicted,” said someone. The same man from Edom Square stood against a white brick wall, trembling, in tears, searching desperately for his family. She scanned the crowd. His family wasn't there. This man would die alone. “Execution?” Iota asked. “Don’t worry about that,” said Omi. She pulled Iota’s head toward her waist and rushed him past the crowd. Before they were out of earshot, she heard the machine announce, “DELTA 2204B, YOU HAVE BEEN CONVICTED OF TREASON. THE PUNISHMENT IS DEATH BY FIRING SQUAD.” The voice trailed off as they neared the EDU Block. There was a rhythmic pattering of distant bullets firing. “What’s that sound?” asked Iota. “Never mind, go to your lessons,” she said. Iota joined the other students into the center, away from the devastating noise. Later that afternoon, Omi went to the cluster assignment building. Anything was better than leaving Iota exposed to the harm he knew as food. The line stretched outside and wrapped around. Omi walked up to the last person: a woman with a child. Doing a double take, Omi recognized her — the woman from Edom Square. No other children were in line. They may have become the first single mothers. “I’m really sorry about what happened,” Omi murmured. “Don’t say that too loud,” the woman replied without turning around. “Right,” Omi said, catching herself. “We’re both alone with a child. What do you say we ask to be clustered together?” The woman looked at her and nodded. “What’s your name?” Omi asked. “Lambda,” she replied. “And who is this?” said Omi, winking at the green-eyed toddler. “His name is Iota.” “Same as mine. But mine was born in 2230. Yours in 2232?” Lambda nodded. “Then we’ll call them as such. I think 30 and 32 will be the best of friends.” A smile broke out on Lambda’s lips. Omi grinned. With clusters reassigned together, keys in hand, they went their separate ways for the day. A machine stood at the exit watching intently. Omi felt a strange vibration in her chest. This machine didn’t look like the others. It looked like a man. It had a face. Instead of green lights, it had blue eyes. When Omi walked past, it nodded and stepped forward. “Yes?” Omi said, guarded. “I’m assigned here, looking for my target. You seem to be the target. Would you happen to need assistance?” Omi stared, unsure what to say. When the machine didn’t leave, Omi leaned in suspiciously. “A man was just executed for espionage, just for having a red light drone. Why should I talk to you? I have a child who needs me alive.” The machine stood calculating for a moment. “Yes, you are the target. I am an authorized machine according to the Treaty of 2222.” He held out his hand. “This token allows me to communicate with Zone A6001 machines. Under the same treaty, I communicate exclusively with the assigned human target.” Omi looked around. Green machines stood everywhere, drones surveilling. It was broad daylight and no one was alarmed. Omi looked at the token—a coin with code on it. It must have meant something to the machines. Yet the way the blue-eyed machine gazed at her was different. Safe. But holding something back. “Not here,” Omi said. “There’s an old factory by the river. I will tell you how you can help me there. Go a different way.” “Yes ma’am,” the blue-eyed machine said. Omi took the long way to the old factory. If the machine was in fact a friend, he would meet her where they could talk away from Zone surveillance. Written, composed produced, mixed & mastered by Andria Lovitt © 2026 Andria Lovitt. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or re-upload of this content is strictly prohibited. #booktube #aesthetic #fiction #story #storytime
