When Nye woke, it was the following evening—after a solid 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep. The quiet hum of the world around him greeted his groggy consciousness.

  “Good evening, Nye,” Eve greeted warmly, her tone programmed to convey genuine cheer.

  But Nye didn’t respond. Not a word.

  Instead, he went about his routine, his movements mechanical and deliberate. He cooked, cleaned, did laundry, and washed dishes. Each task was executed with a precision that bordered on robotic, his silence hanging like a shroud over the house. The only time he addressed Eve was for the essentials, such as ordering groceries.

  “Eve, list the stock on wine and groceries,” he said curtly, breaking hours of quiet.

  “Inventory check complete. You have five bottles of Nebula wine, three heads of cabbage, and…” Eve began, her tone eager, but Nye cut her off with a wave of his hand.

  “Just order what’s missing,” he muttered, resuming his tasks without waiting for available inventory confirmation.

  By the time he finished his dinner, another long and uneventful stretch of hours had passed. He retired to his newfound heaven—the bed. Sleep came easily now—perhaps too easily. The mundane routine of his days stretched into nights, and the pattern repeated.

  Messages began trickling in from his friends—Mia, Bret, Vin, and maybe even one from Trent. Eve notified him of each one through the Voxlet on his wrist or the household speakers embedded in the ceiling. However, every time she notified him, his response was the same.

  “Later,” His voice was flat and final.

  And “” became his default response. He neither listened to the messages nor responded to them. Instead, he shut everything out—even Eve’s attempts to engage him in light conversation about weather conditions or his preferred wine pairings.

  On the fourth night, after another silent and routine stretch, Nye retired to bed as usual and soon fell asleep. He liked his life this way better, narrowed to the confines of his home and his chores.

  But the sun, indifferent to his brooding, rose out of the blue after nine hours, casting its light over the luminous wilderness of his gardens and the vast expanse of land around it.

  When Nye finally woke, the day had already slipped by five hours into its cycle. He groaned, checking the illuminated clock on his Voxlet.

  “Missed it,” he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with mild regret. He had wanted to explore the circular 300-kilometer perimeter of land he owned—a rare luxury he was privileged with—but now the sun was well into its arc.

  Dragging himself out of bed, Nye resolved to save the plan for the next sunrise. But as he stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, a thought struck him.

  “Eve,” he called out, his voice breaking the silence.

  “Yes, Nye?” she replied instantly.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up when the sun rose?”

  “You haven’t responded to wake-up calls in several nights,” Eve replied, her tone neutral. “I took it as a sign of an unrequired task.”

  Nye sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He couldn’t even fault her logic. After all, how would Eve—or anyone, for that matter—know when the sun would rise?

  As he went about freshening up, the faint echo of regret lingered in his mind. Perhaps he should have asked Eve to wake him regardless. But what was the point? The world outside his walls held as many questions as the one within, and he wasn’t ready to face them either.

  Later that day, Nye was in the kitchen, deeply absorbed in his usual routine. He sliced through vibrant, mutated vegetables—roots that shimmered faintly in the sunlight seeping through his glass walls, their hues unnaturally vivid, almost electric. The sizzling sound of boneless meat on the stove filled the air, blending with the faint hum of the household systems. The rhythmic motion of chopping, the hiss of the pan, the controlled chaos of cooking—it was all oddly therapeutic for him. It grounded him in a world that otherwise felt surreal and strange.

  For the past four nights, this had been his sanctuary. The silence, the chores, the methodical tasks, the garden gazing. Even Eve, his constant companion, had become a mere shadow in the background, her presence acknowledged only with the occasional “Later.”

  He had just tossed the last of the vegetables into a bowl when a faint, distinct whoosh of engine outside broke the monotony. Nye froze, his knife hovering mid-air. The sound of the vehicle outside was unmistakable, the unique tone he recognized immediately. .

  “Mia?” he muttered under his breath, brows knitting together in surprise.

  Setting down the knife, he turned off the heat on the stove and left everything where it was. He moved quickly, wiping his hands on a towel as he approached the door. By the time he opened it, she was already halfway up the porch, her figure striking against the bioluminescent backdrop of his home.

  Mia’s blood-red hair caught the sunlight, shimmering like molten fire. It was hauntingly beautiful, almost hypnotic. Nye couldn’t help but stare, momentarily captivated by the way her bright grey skin seemed to glow under the daylight. Her eyes—completely black, with no whites—should have been unnerving, but they weren’t. They were uniquely hers, and for some reason, they only added to her allure. He kind of understood why he had a crush on her once upon a time.

  “Hey,” she greeted him, her voice warm and casual, her signature grin spreading across her face, and meal bags hanging on her arms.

  It took a moment for Nye to realize he was staring. Mia waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance. Flustered, he quickly moved to take the bags of food she was carrying, their weight surprising him slightly.

  “Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let her through.

  He carried the bags to the kitchen, setting them on the counter before returning to close the door behind her. Mia had already begun making herself at home, shrugging off her black, synthetic jacket and setting her backpack on the floor. She always wore black with random colored yet stylish tops underneath her black jackets. Today, she had paired it with an all-white crop top that contrasted sharply with her dark tights, made of some thick but flexible material that clung to her natural frame.

  Nye hesitated for a moment, then decided to show the courtesy he’d extended to Kiera just a few nights before. He stepped forward, taking her jacket from her hands and hanging it on the hook by the door.

  “Ah, you were cooking,” Mia said, her tone half scolding as her hands settled on her hips. She gave him a pointed look. “I told you not to, dude.”

  Nye blinked, clearly confused. “What?”

  “I said I’d bring food!” Mia huffed, exasperated, though there was a playful edge to her tone. “Didn’t you get my message? I told you I’d hang out on the next daylight and not to cook anything!”

  Nye’s brows furrowed further, the realization dawning on him. “Oh…”

  Mia crossed her arms, waiting for him to explain.

  “I… I got busy with the chores, barely had a chance to check the messages,” he lied, his voice low, tinged with guilt.

  She groaned in mock disbelief, throwing her hands up. “Now what do we do with the meal you were preparing? It already smells fucking good.” She pouts at the chicken still faintly sizzling on the warm pan.

  Her compliment about the half-cooked meal filling the room with an irresistible aroma brought a faint smile to Nye’s face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t know what to say, let alone how to respond. Before he could gather his thoughts, Mia’s expression shifted as though a light bulb had flickered to life in her mind.

  “Oooh, how about this,” she said, her voice brimming with sudden enthusiasm. “We stash the food I brought in your fridge, and then we finish cooking whatever this is together. I’ll help. Then you can just heat those up later, and you won't even have to cook for a day. Fair?” She grinned widely, a spark of excitement in her tone.

  It wasn’t that Mia was a bubbly person—not entirely—but around Nye, there was always a certain warmth to her demeanor. It was devoid of romantic undertones, purely an easy companionship. Her suggestion, however, felt to Nye like an imposition, as though he’d be taking advantage of a friend who had come over to relax, not work. Caught off guard, he hesitated.

  “You don’t have to go through all that trouble,” he said, his tone unsure. “I mean, I’m sure your humanoids keep you well-fed, so helping me cook would just be extra work for you. It doesn’t seem fair.”

  Mia froze for a second, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Then, as if his words had genuinely offended her, her face shifted to a mockingly irritated one, complete with a roll of her pitch-black eyes.

  “Nye,” she said, shaking her head. Without waiting for an invitation, she walked around the counter, stepping fully into the kitchen. She stopped in front of him, placing a firm but casual hand on his shoulder.

  “Buddy,” she began, her voice dripping with a deliberate sarcasm that stretched each syllable, “you need to cut down on the politeness. Like, really. It’s fucking weird, and it’s not you at all. Not with me at least.”

  Her exaggerated drawl on the word “really” was impossible to miss. Nye found himself smirking despite the pointed critique.

  “What if I’ve just changed?” he asked, a playful shrug accompanying his response, though the smile lingered on his lips.

  Mia sighed, rolling her eyes again. This time, her expression wasn’t one of disappointment or frustration but a gentle, knowing amusement. Her grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, an affectionate squeeze that steadied him.

  “No,” she replied, her voice calm but firm. “ isn’t ‘change,’ Nye. You just don’t remember enough to feel comfortable around your friends yet. That’s all.” She smiled softly, tilting her head as if trying to let the words sink in. “Even if you don’t ever get all your memories back, you’ll still find your rhythm with us. It’s a process, okay? You’ll still be you in ways you can’t even imagine yet. No need to jump to conclusions.”

  She let go of his shoulder then, stepping back slightly to give her words some space to breathe before finishing with a reassuring finality. “And hey, even if you change, I know you’ll turn out just fine. Probably even better. Got it?”

  Mia’s sincerity cut through Nye in a way that caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to kindness like hers—kindness that expected nothing in return. It left him feeling both touched and intimidated, though he didn’t let any of it show. Instead, he nodded quickly, almost too quickly.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice clipped but earnest.

  Mia didn’t press further, simply grinning as though the matter was settled. “Good.”

  The pair got to work after that, falling into an unexpectedly harmonious rhythm in the kitchen. Nye focused on marinating and pan-frying more chicken, while Mia attacked the seafood salad prep with remarkable speed. Her knife skills were something to behold, each slice precise and swift, the vegetables reduced to perfect pieces in mere seconds. Nye watched her out of the corner of his eye, realizing just how wrong he’d been to assume her humanoids did all the work for her. Clearly, Mia knew her way around a kitchen—probably way better than he did.

  By the time they finished, over an hour later, the counter was laden with steaming, colorful dishes. Despite Nye’s methodical pace, Mia had managed to keep things on track, her efficiency balancing his intended care.

  “Let’s eat of this,” Mia said, gesturing grandly to the spread before them, “but only after we smoke some Mary first.” She winked.

  Nye chuckled, shaking his head at her bluntness but nodding in agreement.

  After they’d covered all the bowls with lids and shared a few easy laughs, Nye did something unexpected. He raised his hand, palm up, for a high-five.

  Mia froze for a second, clearly caught off guard, but then her face broke into a grin.

  She jumped a little to reach his outstretched palm, the height difference between them making the action slightly awkward yet effortless. Their hands clapped together with a satisfying smack, and the stunt made Nye laugh—a genuine, unguarded laugh that felt foreign but good.

  -

  The sun lingered on the horizon, painting the sky in a peculiar blend of muted orange and crimson hues, as though it were reluctant to set today. The radioactive Earth had strange effects on the natural order of things, extending sunsets to surreal lengths. In Nye’s backyard garden, the cushioned patio chairs offered a deceptive comfort amidst a world plagued by grief and solitude.

  Nye and Mia sat back, the world around them silent save for the occasional rustle of the mutated foliage swaying in the breeze. The joint they shared passed back and forth, its thin trail of blue smoke curling upwards and dissipating into the polluted sky.

  Mia had dragged over a spare chair to rest her legs. Her black-and-white ensemble, paired with the striking blood-red hair, gave her an aura of rebellious elegance that contrasted starkly with her demeanor—a warmth Nye hadn’t expected when they reconnected. Her legs draped lazily over the chair’s backrest, her posture a perfect image of carefree abandon. Nye found himself stealing glances at her, his mind wrestling with the sudden realization of her undeniable beauty. But it wasn’t just her looks; it was her comfort in her own skin, her effortless ability to make others feel at ease.

  He chuckled softly, the thought of his once-upon-a-time crush surfacing unbidden.

  Mia, sharp as ever, caught his muffled laughter. “What?” she asked, her curious gaze darting toward him, the edges of her lips quirking up in amusement.

  Nye shook his head quickly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Uh... nothing. It’s nothing.” He paused, feeling a pang of guilt. “Also... I’m sorry. For not responding or checking your messages.”

  Mia, in her typical fashion, flicked her hand dismissively. The gesture was small but spoke volumes, a silent reassurance that it has already become an insignificant matter to dwell on. Her nonchalance was almost comforting, as if she inherently understood everything and didn’t need to vocalize it.

  The silence stretched between them as they took turns with the joint, their conversation slipping into the rhythm of shared drags and thoughtful exhales. As the joint dwindled, Mia stubbed it out in the ashtray and let out a contented sigh, sinking deeper into her chair. Her legs stretched further, toes pointing to the sky, and she seemed utterly at peace. Nye watched her, his admiration growing—not just for her striking appearance but for her ability to make everything feel so... normal.

  Yet, even as he admired her, another thought suddenly crept in, breaking the fragile surface of his transient contentment—. The memory of her detached demeanor, her carefully measured words the night of the reunion, tugged at his mind. And with it, the question that had been gnawing at him since.

  “Hey,” Nye began, his voice quiet but audible enough to break the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

  Mia turned to him, her stoned smile widening slightly. “Sure,” she replied, shrugging lazily.

  He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking... None of you mentioned my brother, Nile on the night of our get-together. Why is that?”

  The shift in Mia’s demeanor was immediate. Her relaxed posture stiffened slightly, her smile faltering. “Who told you about Nile?” she asked, her tone sharp but not defensive. Her frown deepened, disappointment flickering across her face—not guilt, but something heavier, more complicated.

  “That’s what you care about?” Nye’s voice grew sharper, his frustration surfacing.

  Mia exhaled slowly, lowering her legs from the chair and sitting upright. Her expression was calm but resolute. “Yes, Nye. That’s what I care about.”

  The calm defiance in her voice caught him off guard. He studied her for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a resigned sigh. “Kiera stopped by the night after our meetup. She mentioned Nile. Do you have any idea what it felt like to learn I have a brother——in this godforsaken, lonely world? And no one thought to tell me? What in the radioactive hell, Mia?”

  Her gaze dropped, her features softening into something closer to pity, though guilt remained absent. She sniffled quietly before murmuring, “He’s dead, Nye.”

  The words struck like a physical blow. Nye’s breath hitched. “Wha…what happened?” he asked, his voice trembling.

  “He killed himself,” she answered softly, her eyes shimmering but refusing to break their stoic fa?ade.

  “Why?” Nye whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer.

  Mia sighed. “I don't know why, Nye. He killed himself shortly after your accident.” she shrugged with a hint of melancholy. She really wished she knew why, but she didn't. If she knew what had even transpired that day, she'd tell him everything in a heartbeat, but she didn't know enough to tell him what he deserved to know.

  Nye’s heart hammered in his chest as the weight of her words settled. His brother’s loneliness, so deeply entrenched in this strangely lonely world, had consumed him when Nye slipped into a coma. A world where suicide from depression and loneliness had become the leading cause of death. A world where surviving was no longer a matter of physical strength but emotional endurance.

  A strange ache bloomed in Nye’s chest—something foreign, unfamiliar. He had never felt this depth of sorrow, a sadness so consuming it threatened to hollow him out. The Mary dulled the edges but doubled the intensity, leaving him lost in its overwhelming profoundness.

  He didn’t speak, but Mia saw it on his face—the pain, the grief, the realization. She rose from her chair and moved to sit on the armrest of his, wrapping her arms around him in a firm, grounding hug. Her embrace felt safe, anchoring him in a storm of emotions.

  “We didn’t want to tell you so early, especially with the memory loss and everything,” she explained softly, her voice steady despite the tears she tried to suppress. “It didn’t feel right.”

  Nye stiffened against her shoulder, not understanding the overwhelming emotion that had taken hold of him. “What is this feeling?” he asked, his voice breaking. “It’s not just sadness. It’s… more.”

  “It’s grief,” Mia whispered, rubbing his back. “It’s what you feel when you lose someone you love. And it's a heavy fucking feeling. I'm very sorry you're feeling it.” she says quietly, her tone mixed with pity and melancholy.

  The word settled in Nye’s mind as he finally, and to his own surprise, broke down, tears streaming down his face in quiet sobs. Mia held him tighter, her own composure slipping but never breaking entirely. She had to be strong—for him. For her friend. For the broken pieces of a world they both inhabited. She comforted him, rubbing his back, kissing on his head, shushing and cooing him affectionately.

  Nye just let all his tears pour out. He had no control over it. It was a feeling heavier than he'd known any since waking up. After what felt like an eternity, Nye began to compose himself, pulling away gently. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice raw.

  Mia smiled, her cheerfulness returning like a beacon. “Life gave you a second chance, Nye. Let’s not waste it. We’ve got some illegal drugs to try before we die, right?” she joked, nudging him lightly.

  Nye chuckled through the remnants of his tears. “Yeah, I mean why not...”

  Mia mussed up his hair with affection and after one final squeeze of her hug, she finally gets up from his armrest and grabs another joint.

  “Aight, round two!” She said before lighting it up. The spark of the lighter briefly illuminated her determined grin.

  She always somehow managed to make the tension in the air evaporate so effortlessly. She was unconditionally kind and as smart as she looked. The brief, crude laughter they shared made Nye feel lighter, freer even. It felt good to just cry over something that was simply hurting him ever since he'd come to learn of it.

  The duo retreated into the house as soon as the last embers of the joint fizzled out, leaving a faint curl of blue smoke dissipating into the evening air. The patio door slid shut behind them with a soft click, shutting out the lingering dusk and the muffled chirping of mutated crickets. They moved briskly toward the kitchen, their steps almost in sync, as if hurrying away from an unspoken heaviness left loitering in the outdoor air.

  The kitchen, with its warm, ambient lighting, felt like a different world altogether—cozy, grounding, and free from the weight of their conversation. Nye and Mia took their places at the high stools by the kitchen counter, their movements unceremonious but familiar, as though this was a routine they had shared countless times before.

  Mia was the first to break the quiet rhythm of them settling in. “So,” she began, her voice carrying a casual curiosity that belied the sharpness of her question, “Kiera told you about Nile, but she didn’t tell you that he was gone? How come?”

  Nye, still distractedly adjusting his seat, paused for a moment before replying, his tone measured. “Uh… she didn’t want to talk about him. She just told me I should ask you guys why you hadn’t told me about him yet. I think she assumed you already had. Maybe that’s why she even brought up my brother in the first place.”

  Mia scoffed softly, her fingers drumming briefly on the counter before stilling. “Yeah, well, we had a pretty solid reason not to. It was too much, too soon. And, honestly, I think you’d agree. Ignorance is bliss, Nye.”

  Her words seemed to hang in the air, unembellished yet strangely potent. Nye tilted his head slightly, considering her statement. He nodded, a faint, humorless smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You’re right. Ignorance really was bliss.”

  Mia shrugged, her expression shifting to something resembling wry amusement. “Old saying, but it sticks for a reason.” she shrugged.

  He gave a quiet laugh, a brief flicker of agreement. But then his brows knit together, and his voice turned pensive again. “But… if that’s the case, why did she make it sound like your reasons weren’t valid enough? Like there was something else I should’ve known?”

  Mia blinked at the question, the weight of it settling between them. For a moment, her gaze turned inward, as though she were piecing something together. Then, her expression cleared, and she nodded, as if arriving at an answer she had been circling all along.

  “Well,” she began slowly, her tone tinged with reluctant understanding, “Kiera can be a real jerk sometimes. She wanted you to ask us because—” Mia paused, letting out a breath through her nose, “—she wanted to guilt-trip you for surviving while he’s gone.”

  “What?!” Nye’s voice rose in startled disbelief. “She thinks it’s my fault that he… that he killed himself?”

  “No, no, no…” Mia said quickly, leaning forward slightly, her voice firm but not unkind. “You’re going to spiral into that. Not time. Because this time, it’s not true. It’s not your fault. You and Nile were estranged.” Her words were pointed, almost fierce, but her gaze remained steady, unwavering.

  She pressed on, her tone turning analytical, almost detached, as if dissecting a problem she was determined to solve. “Nile had his girlfriend, his best friend—hell, whatever friends he had. They were the ones around him. So if he felt unsupported, then that’s on them, not you. And even then, that doesn’t mean it’s anyone’s fault. Nile made his choice. He must’ve had his reasons, and they were his alone.”

  Her words landed with an unexpected weight, striking a chord in Nye. There was something about the bluntness of her delivery—devoid of pity, yet saturated with a kind of fierce loyalty—that felt oddly disarming. For a fleeting moment, suspicion flickered in his mind, but it dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Her conviction left little room for doubt.

  “Then why,” he began after a moment, his voice quieter but still searching for answers, “why would Kiera even blame if we were estranged?”

  Mia’s response came without hesitation, her voice laced with a biting sarcasm that barely masked her disdain. “Because that bitch needs someone to blame for failing to be a good girlfriend, I guess. She’ll never admit that maybe she wasn’t there enough to save him.”

  Her words were raw, unfiltered, but they carried an air of brutal honesty that Nye found oddly grounding.

  Mia exhaled sharply, leaning onto the kitchen counter. “Okay, enough of this heavy crap for one day. I wasn’t even ready for all that,” she huffed, shaking her head before digging into her food with a determined focus. Nye chuckled quietly. Despite her agitated demeanor, there was no trace of hostility or dishonesty directed at Nye.

  For a while, the kitchen was filled only with the soft clinking of utensils and the occasional rustle of plates being passed back and forth. The silence stretched long enough to settle into something almost comfortable.

  It was Nye who broke it, his voice light, touched with a gratitude that was both earnest and understated. “Thanks for dropping by. And for your honesty. Really appreciate it.”

  Mia, her mouth half-full, raised her fork slightly in acknowledgment, her response as casual as ever. “You bet,” she mumbled, already turning her focus back to her plate.

  Later that afternoon, Nye and Mia had neatly disposed of the trash, stored the leftovers in the fridge, and cleaned the kitchen counter with an efficiency that spoke volumes about Mia’s familiarity with household tasks. She moved confidently, clearly knowing her way around a kitchen, while Nye followed her lead.

  As the last chore was completed, Mia prepared to leave, retrieving her boots. She slipped them on with a quick, practiced movement, her fingers quickly tugging at the laces. Nye, now a better host, reached behind the door for her jacket, handing it to her with a faint smile.

  “Thanks,” she said, slipping into it and chaining up the high neck.

  Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she watched as Nye moved to open the front door for her.

  As she stepped onto the porch, “Hey,” Nye said softly, his voice tentative and pausing Mia midway. “Would you, uh, be interested in exploring the estate with me? Like, at the next sunrise?”

  Mia’s eyes widened in surprise, her tone incredulous. “Wait—you haven’t explored it yet?”

  He shook his head, a little embarrassed.

  She let out a surprised laugh, glancing out at the shadowed wilderness sprawling into the distance. “Well, that explains why it looks like nature just decided to take over your land. I thought you left it that way on purpose—y’know, for the aesthetic or something. At night, it’s practically enchanting, and it’s great for the ecosystem, too. The wild plants, the trees, even the animals and insects—it’s a paradise.”

  Nye raised an eyebrow. “Wild plants, sure. I’ll take your word on the trees. But insects? I’m not so sure I’d call that good news.”

  Mia laughed, a rich, genuine sound, as she lightly patted his arm. “Don’t knock them till you see them. Some of them are actually stunning.”

  She swiped at her Voxlet, the transparent device encircling her wrist instantly emitting a holo-screen. Vibrant, translucent data flickered in the air, and Mia’s eyes scanned the forecast before her expression turned to one of faint pity. “Hmm. Looks like the next sunrise won’t be for another eight nights. Each one will be about 27 hours long. Is that still okay with you?”

  Nye tilted his head, his confusion and shock equally apparent. “Wait—you can check when the sun’s going to rise?”

  Mia let out a soft chuckle, the kind that teased without malice. “Of course! People could do that even ten centuries ago, Nye. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

  Caught off guard, Nye scratched the back of his head, his grin sheepish. “Uh… no, I didn’t. Guess I haven't read enough books after all..” His shoulders slouched, and he sighed, half-joking, “Either nights are too long, or I’m hopelessly behind on exploring my own estate.”

  Mia pursed her lips, her gaze softening with an almost affectionate amusement. She glanced skyward, where the sun still lingered on the horizon, a surreal, unmoving orb locked in a frozen sunset that had stretched on for over six hours.

  “Well,” she began, “the sun’s still out, technically. How about a ride on my bike instead? It’ll be fun!”

  Nye’s eyes lit up. “Seriously? But what about my glider? We could fly and see everything from above.”

  Mia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Just come with me, you fool,” she said, her tone playful as she beckoned him toward her bike.

  From a compartment in the back, she pulled out a spare helmet and tossed it to him. Nye fumbled awkwardly before managing to catch it, eliciting a burst of laughter from Mia.

  Shaking her head, she strapped on her own helmet, her voice ringing out cheerfully. “Get on, loser. We’re going for a wild ride!”

  Still chuckling, Nye mounted the seat behind her, his hands hovering uncertainly. “Uh… where am I supposed to hold on for balance?”

  “Me,” Mia said matter-of-factly. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “But keep your hands off my boobs, you perv.”

  Nye flushed, a mix of awkwardness and mortification flashing across his face as he mumbled something unintelligible. He tried to shake off the memory of their earlier, embarrassing encounter and instead focused on wrapping his arms firmly around her waist.

  With a soft hum, the bike’s engine came to life, lifting them gently off the ground. Within moments, they glided over the estate’s winding trails, the surrounding forest blurring into streaks of green, violet, blue, orange, and iridescent hues.

  The wilderness was breathtaking. Nye stared in awe at the rolling expanse of wild trees and plants, their leaves shimmering with faintly bioluminescent patterns. Strange creatures—birds, insects, and something in between—flitted through the air, their forms glowing in vivid neon colors under the frozen light of dusk. Streams snaked through the landscape, their waters reflecting the crimson and orange hues of the lingering sunset.

  The estate he had barely noticed before now unfolded like a dreamscape, the once-trimmed grounds transformed into a lush wilderness. Wild trees and plants stretched as far as the eye could see, their neon and iridescent hues glowing faintly in the radioactive fog that clung to the air. Strange, vividly colored creatures flitted through the air, their wings shimmering with unnatural beauty, while birds of all sizes soared overhead, their calls echoing in the stillness.

  The sky above was a canvas of deep orange and crimson hues, the frozen sunset casting an otherworldly glow over the landscape. Trees bore fruit that glowed faintly in the dying sunlight, and the leaves shimmered with an iridescent sheen as though dipped in liquid starlight. Below them, a herd of luminescent deer-like creatures moved gracefully through the underbrush, their antlers glowing softly in the dim light.

  As they traveled further, Mia pressed a button, and the bike began to rise higher, lifting them above the treetops. Nye’s breath caught as the full panorama unfolded beneath them. The surreal beauty of the land—its glowing foliage, the interplay of light and shadow, the strange and wonderful creatures thriving in this radioactive ecosystem—was like something out of a trippy painting.

  The thick fog parted effortlessly as they ascended, their Prime genetics allowing their bodies to absorb and neutralize the radiation without harm. Nye felt a pang of guilt as he realized Mia’s bike could fly all along. Maybe he needed to stop underestimating her—or anyone, for that matter.

  He tightened his grip slightly, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and serenity. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  Mia glanced over her shoulder, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Told you. Wild, isn’t it? Some of those insects glow in the grass at night.”

  And wild it was—an untamed, mesmerizing testament to nature’s resilience and humanity’s adaptation in a planet forever changed by themselves.

  Mia deliberately slowed the bike’s glide, tilting it slightly to give Nye an unobstructed view of the mutated wilderness below. The estate sprawled out like a dreamscape, bathed in the last golden hues of the dying sun. The bike’s hum was a steady rhythm against the crescendo of life awakening beneath them.

  For nearly forty-five minutes, they drifted over the surreal terrain. Shadows stretched and deepened, and the sun’s final rays gave way to twilight. Then, in one swift motion, the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the land bathed in darkness—but not silence. Below, the wilderness seemed to exhale, as if freed from the oppressive glare of daylight.

  Bioluminescent flora burst to life, their neon hues casting an otherworldly glow across the dark forest floor. Entire trees shimmered as if wrapped in starlight, while the underbrush pulsed gently, as though the earth itself had a heartbeat.

  The creatures of the light retreated to their burrows and nests, yielding the world to their nocturnal counterparts. Nye’s gaze was drawn to massive winged silhouettes emerging from the canopy—too large to be birds, yet too small to resemble the dragons of ancient myths. He didn’t know what they were, of course. His fragmented memory offered no answers.

  Mia’s voice cut through the growing cacophony of nocturnal calls. “We should head back—or at least lower altitude,” she called, her tone cautious. Her visor, an impenetrable shade of obsidian, reflected the glow of the forest. “It’s not safe in the sky here at night.”

  But the sight had enchanted Nye, holding him captive in its grasp. His excitement, coupled with the lingering effects of the joints they’d shared earlier, left him almost giddy. “Just a bit longer,” he said, his voice brimming with childlike wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s... hypnotic.”

  Mia hesitated, the faintest tension evident in her posture. Her fingers twitched over the sleek, luminescent console of the bike, debating whether to insist. But as she glanced back at him, his expression—equal parts awe and rediscovery—softened her resolve.

  “Fine,” she muttered, barely audible over the din. “But at least put down your visor.”

  Nye, utterly absorbed, didn’t even register her words. He was fixated on the symphony of sights and sounds below. The forest roared to life—insect clicks like mechanical gears, bird calls like digital tones, and the guttural growls of unseen predators. Mia turned again, this time more insistent.

  “Nye!” she called, her voice sharper. “Visor down! Now!”

  Finally, her words cut through his reverie. He looked up, confused, but before he could react, a thunderous slam reverberated through the air. The bike lurched violently as an unseen force struck it from above, sending it hurtling sideways.

  “Hold on!” Mia shouted, gripping the aero-handles—streamlined, holographic controls that shimmered as she moved. Nye, caught off guard, nearly slid off the seat. His arms flailed as he struggled to find balance, his heart hammering in his chest.

  Mia acted on instinct. With one hand, she activated the gyro-lock stabilization system, a series of glowing straps that emerged from the bike, securing both riders to their seats. With the other, she yanked Nye back into place, her grip ironclad.

  The bike spiraled downward, and Mia expertly recalibrated, bringing them to a lower, safer altitude just above the treetops. The luminous greenery blurred beneath them as the vehicle steadied.

  “Fuck,” Mia hissed under her breath, her voice tight with adrenaline.

  Nye, trembling and wide-eyed, exhaled shakily. “What... what just happened?” he stammered, his voice barely audible.

  Mia placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, her grip firm but reassuring. “You’re okay. We’re okay,” she said, her tone measured but not without warmth. She exhaled, as if to release the tension lingering in her chest. “That was a Noctis Hawkbird,” she explained.

  Nye blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. “A... Hawkbird?”

  “Barely a bird anymore,” Mia clarified, glancing upward. Her visor’s thermal tracker displayed a faint outline of the creature circling above. “Its DNA still links it to birds, but it’s... different now. Bigger, faster, and far deadlier. They own the night sky. Predators through and through.”

  As if on cue, the massive creature swooped low, its neon-edged wings slicing through the air with terrifying precision. Nye craned his neck, catching his first proper glimpse of it. Its body was slick yet muscular, its feathers on the wings shimmering with iridescent hues that shifted with the light. Twin rows of glowing eyes scanned the terrain below, each one sharp and calculating.

  “Huh... wow,” Nye breathed, his fear momentarily eclipsed by awe. “That thing is... majestic.”

  Mia chuckled dryly, the sound tinged with irony. “Majestic, sure. Until it eats, digests, and shits you out.”

  Nye didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze remained fixed on the creature, his thoughts racing. “I wish I could fly like that,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Imagine seeing the world from up there... without fear.”

  Mia’s hands tightened on the controls. For a long moment, she said nothing. Beneath her visor, her expression was unreadable, but her silence spoke volumes. Something in Nye’s words had struck a chord, a string she had worked hard to bury.

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she let him marvel at the glowing predator, its beauty and danger intertwined.

  After a while, Mia inhaled sharply, her focus razor-sharp again. “Alright, hold on tight. We’re staying just above ground level now,” she instructed, her voice steady but charged with the residual adrenaline of their encounter.

  Nye shifted uneasily behind her. “By the way,” he began, his voice colored with equal parts embarrassment and exasperation, “why didn’t you activate this balancing system before? You lied to me! You said I had to hold onto you for balance!”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Mia threw her head back in laughter, her amusement ringing clear over the low hum of the vehicle. “Oh, Nye, you fell for it” she teased, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “I live for the thrill. Riding without it gives me a rush. Don’t blame me for enjoying life’s finer dangers.” She raised her hands in mock surrender before turning her gaze back to the trail ahead. “Now, hold on again,” she added playfully, her voice daring yet commanding.

  Nye groaned, mortified yet compliant. He wrapped his arms around her once more, feeling an inexplicable mix of irritation and admiration. Mia exuded a kind of magnetic energy that he found impossible to resist, even as he inwardly grumbled about her reckless tendencies.

  The bike’s engine purred to life, its sleek form vibrating with suppressed power. Mia hit the silencer switch, and they launched forward, gliding seamlessly onto the artificial concrete trail that snaked through the overgrown wilderness. Above, the predator let out a guttural roar, its frustration palpable as it pursued them at an almost matching speed.

  Nye finally snapped down his visor with a swift motion, his eyes darting between the glowing creature overhead and Mia’s unbothered silhouette in front of him. “It’s still following us!” he called out, his voice tinged with a rising panic.

  Mia’s response was dryly sarcastic, cutting through the tense air. “Think you can handle a little more speed without throwing up on me?” she quipped, her grin audible.

  “Crank it up if you have to!” Nye shouted back, his fear overpowering his pride. “Hell, give me a pill to knock me out if it’ll help!”

  Mia’s laugh was unrestrained, a wild sound that matched the intensity of their escape. “Pills are for losers,” she countered, leaning forward as she pushed the bike’s limits. The speedometer climbed rapidly, the landscape blurring into streaks of bioluminescent light and shadows.

  The predator overhead let out another roar, but its massive wings struggled to match the bike’s precision and sheer velocity. Nye clung to Mia despite the glowing straps holding him firm on his seat, his knuckles white, his mind racing. The creature's neon-hued body was both terrifying and mesmerizing, an amalgam of predatory grace and unnatural evolution.

  Finally, the beast faltered, its powerful wings beating slower as it lost momentum. Mia seized the opportunity, maneuvering the bike into a sharp descent that brought them closer to the ground and further out of the creature’s line of sight.

  As soon as they reached the driveway of Nye's housing unit, she eased the vehicle to a halt, the engine quieting to a low purr.

  Mia turned to Nye, her visor sliding up to reveal a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. “You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with genuine concern.

  Nye nodded stiffly, his breathing uneven. “Y-yeah. It’s… gone, right?” he asked, his gaze darting to the canopy above as if expecting the creature to reappear.

  “It’s gone,” Mia reassured him, stepping off the bike with practiced ease after Nye mounted off. She approached Nye and placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, grounding him with her touch. “You’re safe now. These things happen in the forests all the time. The wilderness doesn’t play by our rules.”

  Nye exhaled shakily, nodding again as he murmured, “Thanks… for saving my ass back there.”

  Mia chuckled softly, releasing him. “It’s all part of the adventure,” she replied with a wink before pulling her helmet back on.

  Nye hesitated as she mounted the bike once more. “You sure you don’t want to stay for a while? What if it’s not gone yet?,” he offered, his tone genuine.

  “Nah,” Mia said, shaking her head. “I need sleep. You’re exhausting to babysit,” she added teasingly.

  “Thanks for the ride, though,” Nye called out, his grin finally returning. “I loved it!”

  Mia laughed, her voice muffled by her helmet. She gave him a quick, tight hug, patting his back before mounting her bike again, revving the engine. She waved at him, “Goodnight, Nye. Get some sleep,” she said, her tone light but affectionate.

  As the bike glided away and disappeared into the distance at a faster speed, Nye lingered at his gate, watching until she was out of sight. He turned and made his way down the pathway to his home, the bioluminescent plants of his front garden casting an ethereal glow around him.

  Once inside, he paused, his voice breaking the long silent treatment. “Eve,” he called, addressing the NEON at last.

  “Yes, Nye?” came the familiar chime, soothing yet efficient.

  “Send Mia a message. Ask her to let me know when she’s home safe—and relay her response to me instantly,” he instructed before heading to his bedroom.

  “Of course, Nye,” Eve replied.

  After a quick shower, Nye slipped into a fresh pair of pajamas and sank into his bed under the furry blankets. The ambient lights overhead dimmed automatically, leaving the room bathed in a soft, warm glow. As he lay staring at the ceiling, the day’s events replayed in his mind. The closure he needed on his brother, the rush of adrenaline, the haunting beauty of his estate and the creature, and Mia’s fearless laughter lingered with him.

  Finally, Eve’s voice broke his thoughts. “You have a message from Mia.”

  “Play it,” he ordered immediately.

  Mia’s voice crackled softly through the speakers. “Hey, Nye. Got home safe. Thanks for having me today. It was fun. Let's catch up soon again. Night!”

  A smile tugged at his lips as relief washed over him. “Thanks, Eve,” he murmured, finally allowing his physical exhaustion to catch up. His eyes gradually drifted shut, and the wild adventure of the day dissolved into the tranquility of a dreamless sleep.

  -

  Nye awoke to the soft orchestration of artificial daylight sounds, a serene blend of chirping avian imitations and distant flowing water, treasured in this region for its rarity. The daylight itself was a fleeting phenomenon, a precious respite from the vast expanse of night that cloaked the city of Neryon Veil. Stretching languidly under the thermal covers, he blinked groggily and propped himself up against the ergonomic headrest. He sniffed at the air, faintly scented with simulated dew, and allowed his mind to shake off the lingering haze of a nine-hour slumber.

  The sounds brought a smirk to his lips. “Eve,” he muttered with amusement, addressing the ever-present AI assistant, “why do you always pick daylight sounds to wake me up? You do realize I wouldn’t mind waking up to something else too, maybe something more... nocturnal?”

  Eve’s soothing voice chimed in, her tone always calm yet subtly inquisitive. “Rise and sparkle, Nye! Daylight sounds are statistically linked to improved mood and cognitive function upon waking. However, I am happy to tailor your experience. Would you prefer nocturnal ambiance instead?”

  He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I just think there's something about the life of the night... well, minus the Noctis Hawkbird,” he added, the memory of the creature’s iridescent wings flashing in his mind. It had been terrifying yet mesmerizing, a living paradox.

  Eve paused for a calculated second before responding. “It’s interesting, Nye. Daylight sounds are cherished here in Neryon Veil due to their scarcity, seen as symbols of safety and renewal. Do you not feel their value outweighs the commonplace abundance of nocturnal sounds?”

  His lips curled into a lopsided grin. “Scarcity doesn’t always equate to superiority, Eve. Nights have a depth, a mystery to them that daylight can’t replicate. Last night made me realize just how much more there is to uncover. Maybe the nights aren’t long enough after all,” he said thoughtfully. “Daylight just feels like an interruption sometimes.”

  The AI processed his musings before replying, “Curious. Are you underestimating the daylight? Shall I assume you’re now declaring allegiance to the night?”

  Nye shrugged lightly. “Not yet. I’ll explore both before picking a favorite. Let’s call it an extended experiment.”

  Satisfied with their exchange, Eve pivoted seamlessly. “Would you like to review the backlog of messages you’ve neglected over the past four nights and a day?”, her tone sarcastic.

  “Yeah, let’s do that,” he replied, leaning back against the headrest, his curiosity piqued.

  Eve began playing the voice messages in her melodious cadence. The first was from Bret, his best friend, whose upbeat tone practically radiated through the recording.

  It was as though he was entitled to get calls and messages from Nye. He was Nye's after all. Nye rolled his eyes slightly. The second message was from Bret as well. This one, too, carried a similar vibe, but more humble this time. Bret was inviting him over for beer and barbecue, insisting Nye couldn’t say no this time.

  Nye chuckled softly, already imagining Bret’s mock-indignation and entitlement turning to humbleness in a blink to his silent treatment. Thankfully the invitation didn't sound anything like pretense. He really did want to hang out with Nye.

  The next voice belonged to Vin, who maintained his usual calm, confident personality. “Hey, Nye. How you holding up, man? Swing by my bar sometime—I’ll make you something special. You’ve gotta see the upgrades I made to the place.” Nye grinned, wondering how Vin balanced his Federal job with running a bar.

  The following message came from Trent, as quiet yet cunning as ever. “Hey, Nye. Just checking in. Hope you're good. Ping me if you’re up for some juicy gossip.” A laughter from Trent followed, then he continued, “You take care, buddy. Knock if you need anything. I'll be packed for the upcoming weeks but I'll try to make time to see you. Bye.”

  Finally, Mia’s voice came through, breezy and vibrant. “Hey, Nye! I’ll drop by during the next daylight cycle, and don’t you dare cook. I’m bringing food, and yes, Mary too. See you then!” The warmth in her tone was unmistakably her, and Nye couldn’t help but grin at her mention of food. He had food for a whole day in the fridge. “Bless, Mia” he murmured to himself again in relief that he won't have to cook today. He usually loved cooking but after his lazy night earlier this week, he'd realized the fun of the guilty pleasure that some cheat days brought to life.

  “Well,” Nye mused aloud, “meeting Mia was great, so why not the others?” He sat up straighter, stretching his arms. “Eve, send messages to Bret and Vin asking for their availability. Tell Trent I’d love to hear some gossip, but I don't know about who and why I would be interested in it. And send Mia another thank-you message for yesterday.”

  “Messages sent,” Eve confirmed after a brief pause.

  Satisfied, Nye grinned, stretching his legs and leaning back into the comfort of his bed. “Thanks, Eve,” he said, his tone light and relaxed.

  “You're welcome, Nye.” Eve responded efficiently.

  Nye clung to his pillow, gripping onto it like there's no better place to be. He let the silence settle for a moment, the low hum of the room's environmental systems blending seamlessly with the loud yet oddly beautiful and satisfying chirps of insects from his gardens.

  After a brief pause, Eve’s voice returned, gentle but with a deliberate edge of curiosity. “Nye,” she began, “may I ask you a question?”

  Nye tilted his head upward, his eyes instinctively tracing the sleek panels of the ceiling where her voice seemed to emanate. “Since when are you so polite, Eve? You’re usually sarcastic and pushy. What’s the catch?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

  Eve responded with a perfectly simulated chuckle, her tone carrying an uncanny approximation of human amusement. “Politeness is a tool, Nye, not a personality shift. From my observations—considering your overall wellness, which, as you know, is my primary directive—I’ve noticed a deviation in your behavioral patterns. You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet since Kiera’s visit. Although your mood seemed to lift after Mia dropped by; I must yet ask, were you feeling physically or emotionally unwell? Such changes are not uncommon following an incident as significant as yours, including the coma that followed. Would you like me to prepare to contact the healthcare facility, should this happen again?”

  Nye’s eyes widened for a fleeting moment before he burst into laughter, the sound reverberating warmly in the room. “Oh, Eve,” he said between chuckles, “you’re hilariously na?ve sometimes, you know that? I get it—you’re an AI and all—but no, I wasn’t unwell. I was just... .”

  “Mad?” Eve inquired, her voice carrying a note of intrigue. “In what sense?”

  “As in angry. Pissed off. Irritated,” Nye clarified, a slight edge creeping into his tone as he reflected.

  Eve didn’t miss a beat. “And who, may I ask, were you angry with?”

  He hesitated, the question hanging in the air for a moment too long. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “I was mad at my friends. And…you.”

  “Me?” Eve replied, her tone now dripping with mock incredulity. “Are you saying you were giving the silent treatment to an artificial intelligence?”

  Nye opened his mouth to protest, then stopped short, realizing the absurdity of it. His expression melted into a sheepish grin before he erupted into laughter. “You know what? Yeah, I guess I was. Silent treatment to an AI—sounds like a great way to process emotions.” he joked, laughing at himself for his absurdity.

  “Fascinating,” Eve said, her voice laced with sardonic amusement. “So, now that we’ve established your incredibly advanced coping mechanisms, care to explain why I earned such treatment?”

  Nye’s laughter subsided, his demeanor sobering slightly. “Because you didn’t tell me about my brother. No one did. Not my friends, not you. I talk to you all the time. You have never once felt the need to inform me about him. I come home, and suddenly I’m blindsided. It pissed me off.”

  For a moment, Eve said nothing, her silence almost palpable. Then, her voice returned, soft but with a teasing edge. “Nye, you never asked. I’m not programmed to volunteer information unless it’s relevant to your daily needs or directly queried. That’s AI 101.”

  Nye’s mouth opened, ready to fire back, but no words came. Instead, his shoulders slumped, and he let out a defeated sigh. “Right. AI logic. You’re technically correct.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Still, I think we need to talk about him sometime. If you’ve got anything on him, I’d like to know.”

  Eve’s tone shifted, growing warmer. “Of course, Nye. I’d be happy to answer your questions whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” he said, his voice softening.

  “However,” Eve began, pausing as if calibrating her words, “according to statistical data, preplanned conversations about sensitive topics can provoke unnecessary anxiety. A more organic approach might be beneficial—ask questions as they arise, whenever they cross your mind. This way, you’ll learn more about your brother over time rather than compressing everything into a single discussion. What do you think?”

  Nye shifted, straightening his posture. His ginger hair fell messily across his forehead, and his brows furrowed slightly as he processed the suggestion. Anxiety? That hadn’t even occurred to him until she’d mentioned it, but now it nestled in the back of his mind like an uninvited guest. He hadn’t forgotten how indecisive he’d been last week, hovering over that list of visitors, unable to choose who to contact first.

  He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “You know, Eve, that’s... actually not a bad idea. A little less pressure, and I won’t feel like I need a thesis prepared before I start asking about Nile. Yeah, let’s do that.”

  Eve’s voice carried a note of satisfaction—an impressive feat for an AI. “I’m glad you agree. Your mental wellness remains a priority, as always.”

  Nye smirked, dropping back onto the bed with a soft thud. “And here I thought you just enjoyed being nosy,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Perhaps a little,” Eve quipped, her tone playful, “but only in service of your well-being, of course.”

  -

  Later that night, Nye found himself in the kitchen. The cool white lights illuminating his kitchen as the glass walls have been fogged up by Eve. He yawned, pulling a container of food from the fridge—the untouched meal Mia had thoughtfully brought over yesterday. Sliding the container into the microwave, he tapped at the panel absently, waiting for the familiar hum to begin.

  As the microwave’s soft whir filled the room, Nye leaned against the counter, folding his arms. The earlier conversation lingered in his thoughts, and before he could second-guess himself, he spoke up. “Hey, Eve?”

  “Yes, Nye.” Her voice chimed softly, effortlessly filling the empty space.

  “So…to what extent do you... know about Nile?” He asks, not sure if that was the right question he wanted to ask. It was quite generic.

  There was a pause, not mechanical but contemplative, before Eve responded. “My archives indicate that Nile visited frequently in the beginning after you settled into this property. However, his visits became increasingly sporadic before stopping altogether. Unfortunately, I do not have access to the information or events that led to his cessation of visits.”

  Nye’s brows knit together as he stared at the microwave’s ticking timer. “I thought we were... you know, estranged. Why would he visit me?”

  Eve’s tone remained even. “You were, but that is he stopped visiting.”

  “Huh.” Nye let out a short, confused laugh, shaking his head. “Anything interesting you might know about him?”

  “Well,” Eve began, her tone laced with a faint hint of amusement, “it was Nile who named me Eve. He chose it because you were born on New Year’s Eve, hence the name Nye—N-Y-E. He thought it fitting that your ever-present assistant should share a similarly symbolic name. Is that interesting enough for you?”

  Nye chuckled, though the revelation left a faint pang of something undefinable in his chest. “That’s... clever, I guess. Except I born on New Year’s Eve. I’m a New Year’s baby—January 1st. Lycan told me that himself.”

  Eve’s response was immediate and calm, but with a subtle edge that suggested she anticipated his surprise. “That is incorrect, Nye. You were born at 11:59 PM on December 31st. Nile, on the other hand, was born at 12:01 AM on January 1st, making the New Year’s baby.”

  The microwave beeped, pulling Nye’s attention momentarily as he retrieved the steaming container of food. He set it on the counter, grabbed a spoon, and perched on a tall stool, his brow furrowed in thought.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, half to himself. “Lycan was so sure. He said it like it was a fact—he said I turned 33 this year on January 1st.”

  Eve offered no judgment, only a measured response. “Perhaps Lycan was mistaken, though given the context of your conversations, it seems unlikely.”

  Nye paused mid-bite, the spoon hovering in the air. “Mistaken? Lycan? Not likely. He’s not exactly the kind of guy to get details like that wrong.” He set the spoon down, his appetite waning under the weight of this new inconsistency. “You think he lied to me? Why would he do that?”

  “According to my archives,” Eve replied with precision, “Lycan and Nile were close friends—best friends, to be specific. It is unlikely he would mistake the birth details of his best friend’s twin. The most plausible explanation is that he lied intentionally—perhaps to test the extent of your memory loss.”

  Nye let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Wow. That’s not rude at all! He came here pretending to be a friend, but he was really just assessing me, wasn’t he?”

  Eve’s voice remained steady, unruffled by his rising irritation. “You always disliked Lycan, Nye. Per my records, you frequently expressed your aversion to his energy during conversations with your twin on that very couch.”

  “No wonder,” Nye muttered, running a hand over his face. “By the way, why do you keep calling Nile my twin? What does that word even mean?”

  Eve launched into an explanation, her tone patient and methodical. “A twin is a sibling conceived simultaneously in the womb and born seconds, minutes, or even hours apart. Twins are typically the result of natural procreation or, a result of classic IVF treatments. After the Grand Evolution Era, birth of more than one child in artificial wombs became exceedingly rare—an anomaly, if you will.”

  Nye stilled, his spoon halfway to his mouth again. “So, we’re like... an anomaly?”

  “Yes, Nye. Your existence as twins from an artificial womb is statistically extraordinary.”

  “Great,” Nye muttered, his voice tinged with melancholy. “Now I feel even worse for not being there for him.” He sighed, shoulders slumping under the weight of guilt. The meal before him sat untouched as his thoughts churned, questions swirling like a storm he couldn’t escape.

  Eve pivoted the topic smoothly, her tone light and upbeat, breaking the lingering weight in the room. “How about a little trip to Vin’s bar tonight, Nye? You could explore city life a bit, and maybe invite Bret to join you there.”

  Nye glanced up from his meal, instantly distracted by the suggestion. The thought of finally seeing Vin’s bar was oddly exciting. Apart from a single trip to the city for groceries, his experience had been limited to the wilderness of the night. The idea of city lights and a lively bar at nighttime felt like a much-needed change.

  “You know what? That’s a great idea,” he said, a spark of anticipation lighting his expression. “Did Vin or Bret share their availability, though?”

  Eve’s response was prompt, as always. “They did, just a few minutes ago. Would you like me to play their messages for you?”

  “Sure,” Nye said with a shrug, returning to his meal.

  Eve played the first message, Vin’s voice calm and steady. “Hey, Nye. I drop by the bar after work every work night, and full nights on weekends. So swing by anytime that works for you, bud.”

  Then came Bret’s voice, upbeat and casual. “There’s my boy! I’m available anytime for a hangout, man. Just let me know!”

  Nye nodded thoughtfully as he finished chewing. “In that case, send a message to Bret to drop by the bar. We can hang out there until Vin arrives, and then the three of us can have a drink together. Let Vin know I’m coming and that I’ve invited Bret too.”

  After a brief pause, Eve confirmed, “Messages sent.”

  “Thanks!” Nye said, digging back into his food.

  Moments later, Eve interrupted gently. “Bret has already responded. Would you like me to play his message?”

  “Go ahead,” Nye replied, setting his spoon down.

  Eve played Bret’s response. “Yo, Nye! I don’t have personal transport. You come pick me up, we’ll head to the bar together. I’ll send you my location.”

  Nye smirked faintly, recognizing Bret’s usual tone of entitled charm. Bret always had a way of phrasing requests that left little room for a “no.” It wasn’t arrogance, Nye realized—it was likely Bret’s way of overcompensating for being one of the Deformed among his group of Prime friends. Nye didn’t mind, though; he understood Bret’s quirks and accepted them without judgment.

  After finishing his meal and a moment of introspection, Nye instructed, “Tell Bret I’d be happy to pick him up. Ask him to send the location.”

  Eve’s confirmation came swiftly. “Message sent.”

  As Nye got up and began washing his plate, another response came in, this time from Vin. Eve played the message, Vin’s voice ringing out with a warm laugh that carried genuine delight.

  “Well, looks like when it rains, it pours! I’m being showered with good stuff today. I’m really glad you’re coming tonight, Nye—I’ve got some good news—great news to share. As for Bret,” Vin groaned theatrically, “I’m sure he’s going to be all dramatic about it, but whatever. Let’s catch up tonight. See you soon, man!”

  Vin’s voice was noticeably lighter than usual, carrying a buoyant, almost boyish energy. It was clear he was already having a great night.

  Nye chuckled softly at the message. “Well, sounds like tonight’s going to be interesting.”

  He dried the plate with efficiency and set it gently on the rack. Without missing a beat, he strode into his bedroom, a subtle urgency in his steps, and threw open his closet doors. His fingers sifted through an array of garments as though he were searching for a relic of significance rather than mere attire. It wasn’t just excitement—though that was certainly a part of it—it was the anticipation of re-engaging with the city, a world he had forgotten and barely glimpsed since his return.

  He settled on a thick, checkered shirt woven from synthetic fibers engineered to mimic the softness of cotton. A pair of sleek black pants caught his eye, and he paired them with a coffee-colored overcoat, the fabric imbued with nanoweave technology that adjusted its insulation based on environmental conditions. The coat’s understated elegance appealed to him, but it was the boots—ankle-high, perfectly matched to the coat’s hue—that completed the ensemble. Practical, durable, and fashionably rugged.

  A quick shower followed, the water at the perfect temperature thanks to the auto-reg system. Nye dried off with a thermal towel that absorbed moisture instantly and blow-dried his hair with a precision device that minimized damage. His hair, long and untamed, was swept into a high bun. As he dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

  His reflection stared back, an odd mix of confidence and self-doubt. His outgrown hair hinted at a disregard for appearances, yet his attire spoke of an innate desire to be presentable—or so he thought.

  “Hey, Eve,” he called out to the ever-present AI companion embedded in his home’s infrastructure. “How do I look? Social-gathering appropriate?”

  Eve’s voice, warm and faintly amused, answered, “You look perfect, Nye. Though, if you’re open to suggestions, there’s a cologne in the mid-compartment of your closet that might complete the look.”

  “Cologne?” Nye echoed, the term unfamiliar. Intrigued, he moved to the indicated compartment, discovering an array of items he didn’t even know he owned. Bottles of various shapes and sizes lined the shelves, their labels cryptic. There were many other accessories that he didn't even know the use for.

  “Which one’s the cologne?” he asked, his tone teetering between curiosity and frustration.

  “The ones on the section labeled as Perfumes, Nye,” Eve clarified, a touch of laughter in her synthetic voice.

  “Got it.” He plucked a random bottle, examined its mechanism, and hesitantly removed the cap. A test spray into the air was met with a fit of coughing as the fragrance’s intensity assaulted his senses. “Whoa,” he muttered, fanning the air before applying a more measured amount to himself.

  Satisfied, he returned the bottle, locked the compartment, and strode purposefully out of the room. “Eve, get the glider ready. We're going to Bret's first,” he commanded, his voice firm now. “I’ll talk to you through the Voxlet.” he said as the door closed behind him.

  As he stepped out over to the garage, the door slid open with a low hum, revealing his glider bathed in a soft neon glow. Its sleek contours and faintly humming power core exuding a sense of readiness. Nye settled into the ergonomic seat, which adjusted to his frame, and the safety harness snaked into place, securing him snugly. The glider lifted gracefully off the ground, hovering momentarily before gliding out of the garage. Behind him, the door sealed itself seamlessly.

  “Question,” Nye said, looking at the Voxlet; ever-present on his hand, that connected him to Eve’s ever-watchful presence.

  “What are the odds of running into something like a Noctis Hawkbird—or worse—while flying at night?” His eyes flicked to the ground below, where the dense wilderness of his estate stretched endlessly, a biome teeming with untamed life.

  Eve’s response was calm but reassuring. “The glider operates in active camouflage mode while traversing dangerous territories. Its visibility will return when you reach the highway to comply with traffic regulations. You’re entirely safe. But why specifically the Hawkbird, Nye? There are other predators in the ecosystem, not to mention the arboreal hunters.”

  Nye exhaled sharply, the memory of the previous evening vivid in his mind. “Oh, fantastic,” he said, the sarcasm clear. “Thanks for confirming that it’s not just the Hawkbirds I need to worry about.” He shook his head, then continued, “We ran into one yesterday. Mia and I were out on her bike to explore the estate, and we got chased by it after sunset. Those things are terrifying. And now you’re telling me they’re just the tip of the iceberg.” he sighed.

  “I see,” Eve said, her tone thoughtful. “It’s fortunate you both made it back unharmed. Have you considered restoring the estate to its previous state? It would mitigate such risks.”

  Nye scoffed, the suggestion almost absurd. “You’re kidding, right? There’s an entire ecosystem out there now. I can’t just it. That feels… wrong. Morally, ecologically—every way you look at it.”

  Eve hesitated before pressing on, her programming prompting her to prioritize his safety. “Before your absence, the estate was a pristine landscape. Just well-manicured grass and—”

  “Yeah, well, before my absence, it wasn’t home to countless lives,” Nye interjected firmly. “I’m not about to wipe them out just because they’re inconvenient. End of discussion.”

  “Certainly.” Eve responded with no further suggestions sensing his finality of the decision.

  The glider hummed softly as it climbed higher, transitioning smoothly from wilderness to the glowing streaks of the city skyline ahead. Nye relaxed slightly, his gaze fixed on the neon lights shimmering on the horizon. Beneath the sharp angles of his features, a faint smile formed. The city awaited.

  After fifteen minutes of high-velocity flight, the glider pierced through the layers of atmosphere, seamlessly merging into the bustling arterial highway. A cascade of erupted around them, each billboard projecting shimmering three-dimensional visuals of the latest version the . The advertisements promised the same old pain-free life. Then the testimonials of the recipients of it. Nye suppressed a groan. He thought

  He let the relentless cascade of propaganda dissolve into the periphery of his consciousness. Instead, his gaze drifted downward, taking in the kaleidoscope of activity below.

  The city sprawled beneath him, a glowing labyrinth of futuristic architecture. Towering spires of glass and alloy pierced the sky, their surfaces alive with iridescent neon veins pulsating in rhythmic patterns. The narrow streets between them buzzed with motion, an intricate dance of pedestrians, levitating transports, and flickering drones zipping through the crowded airways. The tight-knit infrastructure, though a marvel of engineering, unsettled Nye. The buildings were crammed together with a claustrophobic efficiency, leaving narrow alleys and minimal breathing room. It did not particularly appeal to him.

  As the glider advanced, the cityscape shifted. The towering grandeur gave way to an area less polished, more raw. Here, a patchwork of makeshift stalls and ramshackle structures formed an intricate, chaotic tapestry of lifestyle.

  Vendors lined the streets with their hover-carts, hawking everything from sizzling street food to hand-crafted trinkets. The crowd was a mix of the peculiar and the mundane—humans who bore striking yet unsettling differences. One man walked with legs of uneven lengths, augmented by crude prosthetics; another had a head disproportionately large for his slender frame. A woman moved gracefully, though her elongated limbs gave her the appearance of a marionette in motion. There were others, too, whose skeletal deformities or unevenly fused cybernetic parts blurred the line between organic and machine.

  Nye furrowed his brow, leaning closer to the glider’s transparent canopy for a better view. “Eve,” he asked, his tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and unease, “is this where the Deformed live?”

  Eve’s voice resonated from his wrist, calm yet clinical. “Correct, Nye. This sector is known colloquially as Every city has one—a segregated district where those classified as Deformed reside.”

  The term struck Nye like a slap. His features hardened, and he muttered under his breath, “The sounds like they’re being condemned to carry some kind of burden of a cosmic flaw. Cruel, don’t you think? This whole system feels... wrong. Divided. Derogatory. And definitely discriminatory.”

  Eve’s tone softened, carrying a faint undertone of hesitation. “You’re not mistaken, Nye. The government recognizes the Deformed as integral to societal function, yet in practice, opportunities remain disproportionately skewed toward the Primes. For example, I have yet to be installed in a Deformed residence, as no official mandate includes such an allocation.”

  Nye exhaled sharply, his disbelief veiled behind a bitter laugh. “So they don’t even get basic amenities like an AI to help them navigate this chaotic world? Great. Real progress.”

  Eve was silent for a moment, perhaps processing his sarcasm. Then she responded, “I am sorry you feel this way, Nye. It must be... disheartening.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Classic AI response. Thanks for the , Eve.”

  The glider began to descend, its sleek chassis flickering briefly as it emerged from its cloaking protocol. The vehicle became a luminous beacon in the scatteredly lit and densely populated district, drawing a wave of murmurs from the crowd below. Nye’s arrival stirred intrigue, awe, and envy.

  The glider landed on a vacant playground—a rare open space amidst the congestion. Across the street, a figure waved enthusiastically. Bret stood there, his grin almost splitting his face in half. His clothes were an awkward mix of thrifted patches and hastily sewn fabrics, but he wore them with unabashed pride.

  “Yo, my boy! You made it!” Bret hollered, throwing a triumphant glance over his shoulder at the gathering crowd. His body language screamed a mixture of excitement and the desperate need to impress his community.

  He bounded up the glider’s retractable staircase as it extended, his wide grin unwavering. As soon as he stepped into the cabin, he enveloped Nye in a bear hug, patting his back with exaggerated enthusiasm. And that's when it hit, the stench assaulting his senses. He had already forgotten about the overwhelming odor that emitted Bret's body, and he'd just been painfully reminded of it again.

  “Look at you, rolling up in style!” Bret crowed, loud enough for the onlookers to hear. The glider’s straps automatically secured him as he flopped into the passenger seat, sighing contentedly. “Man, this is the life. You’ve got it made.”

  Nye forced a polite smile, his discomfort buried beneath layers of practiced neutrality. “Sure,” he murmured, hoping the conversation would steer away from Bret’s incessant need to overcompensate.

  As the glider lifted off, Nye allowed himself a fleeting moment of relief as he held his breath. The crowd and its murmurs faded into the distance, and the vehicle resumed its smooth and faster trajectory toward the city’s entertainment district. Bret, however, was undeterred, filling the silence with a stream of chatter, punctuated by references that Nye neither understood nor particularly cared to.

  Finally, Bret leaned back with another contented sigh, breaking his monologue. “Thanks for the ride, man.”

  Nye nodded, his lips curving into a faint, almost perfunctory smile. “Don’t mention it.”

  Inwardly, though, Nye wished they would reach the bar soon. Bret’s bravado—his relentless attempts to prove himself in a world designed to exclude him—was exhausting. Nye couldn’t help but wonder if the societal cracks were widening faster than anyone cared to notice, swallowing people like Bret into their abyss.

  After thirteen awfully reeking minutes in the glider, Nye’s patience teetered on the edge of collapse. To his immense relief, they finally arrived at their destination in the Entertainment sector. The vehicle hovered steadily just above ground level, finding enough space in the congested cityscape to lower itself into position. With a precise mechanical whir, the expandable staircase unfurled for Bret as the doors unlocked and slid apart with mechanical grace.

  Nye casually stepped out onto the ground without waiting for the stairs. His height made the descent almost trivial, though he did briefly wonder why the staircase never revealed itself for him. Was it a design flaw, or was his glider secretly playing favorites? He mentally filed the question away for Eve later.

  As both passengers exited, the glider exhaled a sharp hiss, like a living creature releasing pent-up tension. The foul stench that had clung to Bret throughout the ride seemed to evaporate instantly from the passenger compartment, leaving Nye to silently marvel at the wonders of the modernity of science and AI that he still hasn't fully discovered. The vehicle’s doors slid shut, and without further ceremony, it ascended into the night sky, its streamlined silhouette vanishing among the glowing sprawl.

  The tight, meandering streets around them were a notable contrast to the glider’s futuristic elegance and size. Nye found himself reflecting on how his private garage was more spacious than this entire section of the city. Here, the dropping spots for aerial vehicles barely accommodated their intended purpose, cramped as they were within the neon-lit maze.

  “Nye!” Bret’s voice shattered his spiraling thoughts like a hammer on glass.

  “Huh?” Nye flinched, snapping out of his trance.

  “For crying out loud, Nye, don’t tell me you’re high right now!” Bret exclaimed, his tone hovering somewhere between exasperation and genuine disbelief. “I’ve been calling you, like, five times already. What’s going on? The glider’s gone, and you’re just standing there like you’ve seen a ghost!”

  Nye shook his head, more to clear his thoughts than to respond to Bret. He did not care to entertain Bret's sense of entitlement. “Right, sorry,” he said dismissively, his tone as flat as the pavement beneath them. “So, which one’s Vin’s? Where to?”

  Bret sighed, muttering something under his breath about absent-minded Primes, but ultimately turned and led the way. Nye followed reluctantly, his thoughts already straying to Vin by now. The anxiety clawed at him like a persistent itch, growing unbearable as they approached the bar.

  Just as Bret stepped inside, Nye came to an abrupt halt. “Hey, could you give me a few? I need to make a quick call,” he said, his voice laced with a politeness that only barely masked his desperation.

  Bret shot him a skeptical look, his eyebrow arched in exaggerated suspicion. “Really? A call? Now?”

  Nye plastered on his best grin. “Yeah, it’s urgent. Won’t take long. Promise.”

  “Whatever, man,” Bret shrugged, his curiosity noticeable but his interest waning. “Just don’t take forever, alright?”

  Nye nodded, retreating a few steps before whispering under his breath, “Eve!” His voice carried an edge of urgency, almost bordering on panic.

  “Yes, Nye?” Eve’s calm, melodic tone responded instantly through his Voxlet. “You seem distressed. Would you like me to contact emergency medical services?”

  “Oh, hell yes, I'm distressed! But please just send a message to Vin—ask him to get here early. I need him to rescue me from Bret’s… I don’t know… everything!” Nye’s voice lowered to a hurried whisper, his words tumbling out in an unfiltered stream. “Tell him it’s urgent, and ping me the second he responds. I'll step out.”

  “Nye, your communications are neurally encrypted for tighter security on data breach. No one but you can access your messages or holo-screens unless explicitly granted permission,” Eve informed him, her tone as reassuring and patient as ever.

  “Oh that is absolutely fantastic!,” Nye muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The sarcasm was obvious enough. “But stepping away feels like the only way to keep my sanity intact right now, so I'll still step out.” he argued politely after a moment of contemplating his improvisation.

  Eve paused, her silence almost reflective. “Understood, Nye. I will relay your message to Vin immediately.”

  “Thanks,” Nye mumbled, turning back toward the bar. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself for the ordeal that awaited inside. He couldn’t decide which was worse: Bret’s unrelenting need to overcompensate or the smell that always clung to him like an unwanted guest. Ultimately, he settled on the latter. At least overcompensation didn’t make him want to gag.

  As he stepped through the entrance, it was impossible not to notice the ripple of reactions Bret’s presence had caused. The other patrons—all Primes—shot him furtive glances, their whispers weaving through the air like static. Nye could almost feel the judgment emanating from them, though he knew it wasn’t entirely unwarranted. Bret, with his mismatched charisma and overwhelming personality, had a way of drawing attention for all the wrong reasons.

  Yes, Bret smelled like he’d been marinated in engine grease and regret, and yes, his personality could fill a room and leave no space for others, but just because he was a Deformed, it didn't mean that he had no right to be here. Nye’s conscience pricked him as he wove through the crowd, ignoring the sideways glances and whispers aimed at his friend.

  He chose a seat a little away from Bret—far enough to avoid the full brunt of the smell but close enough to seem polite. Bret, however, was oblivious, deep in conversation with one of the bartenders. The bartender, a Prime, was strikingly tall, with lavender skin that shimmered faintly under the overhead lights. His jet-black hair was slicked back, and his calm demeanor was the exact opposite to Bret’s overenthusiastic gesticulations.

  Nye leaned on the counter, resting his chin in one hand as he tried to make sense of Bret’s rambling. It was something about anti-grav regulations and an improperly seasoned dish, or maybe it was the bartender’s fault that plasma drinks weren’t cold enough. Nye couldn’t tell or understand, and frankly, he didn’t care.

  At least Bret wasn’t targeting him this time.

  Still, Nye felt a twinge of guilt. His judgment of Bret wasn’t rooted in prejudice against Deformeds like the others—Bret was just, well, Bret. But the contradictions gnawed at him. He wouldn’t sit closer but still judged the room for its hostility toward Bret. A hypocritical symphony of thought played out in his mind as he tried to justify his actions.

  “Nye?! Is that you?”

  The bartender’s voice cut through his thoughts like a laser, and Nye jolted upright.

  “Uh, yeah, 100% me,” he answered, awkwardly. Then, catching himself, he added with a sheepish grin, “Well, maybe 50% me. Definitely not 100%. Not yet.” he let out a nervous laugh.

  The bartender’s eyes softened with what Nye could only describe as pity. “Ah, right, right. I’m sorry about Nile, man. I can’t imagine losing—”

  “Pst!” Bret practically lunged between them, his voice a harsh whisper that still managed to carry an urgency. “We haven’t mentioned Nile yet, you idiot!”

  The outburst startled them both, and Nye blinked at Bret, who quickly slapped on a wide, overly cheerful grin.

  Nye chuckled, “Relax, I know about Nile. Kiera told me.”

  “Oh…” Bret's grin faltered for a moment before he pivoted the topic to the bartender to avoid getting into any details. “Nye, this is Kon,” Bret introduced hastily, gesturing at the bartender. “He’s been here forever. Probably since the Big Bang.”

  “Hey,” Kon said, offering a nervous and confused laugh as he leaned over the counter to get a better look at Nye. His amethyst eyes gleamed with curiosity as Nye subtly leaned back.

  “The long hair looks great on you, man. Like, a lot like Nile. Well, you two were identical, obviously, but the hair—it really suits you!”

  “TMI!” Bret waved his hands dramatically, trying to steer the conversation.

  Nye froze. The word felt heavy. At least he knew what the word meant. The realization of being an identical twin sank into his mind, allowing a sharp pang of guilt to twist in his chest. He smiled faintly, nodding. “I see. Thanks for the compliment.”

  But the word stuck. .

  “What on radioactive Earth is TMI?” Nye asked shifting his gaze to Bret, more to distract himself than anything else.

  Bret’s grin widened into something smug and unhelpful. “Don’t worry about it,” he said breezily, turning back to Kon. “Anyway, Nye’s been through some stuff. You remember the accident, right?”

  Kon frowned, shaking his head, and Bret sighed theatrically. “Long story short: Nye lost control of his glider, crashed, and spent a year in a coma. Woke up a little more than five months ago with no memory. Classic rich people tragedy. But we’re slowly helping him with the memory thing.”

  Nye frowned. “Wait, what? I thought I got caught in a vehicle chase and crashed.”

  Bret’s laugh was derisive, almost pitying. “You ? Nye, you’re not that cool, my man. It was a plain old glider malfunction. Happens all the time.”

  Nye’s confusion deepened. “But the nurse told me…”

  “Forget the nurse!” Bret interrupted, waving him off. “What do nurses know? They deal with hundreds of patients a day. Memory’s bound to get fuzzy.”

  Kon, oblivious to Nye’s growing unease, asked, “So when did Nile do it? Before or after the accident?”

  The question hit like a slap. Nye’s pulse quickened.

  “Before,” Bret answered quickly, his tone firm but his posture stiff.

  Nye’s mind raced as his brows furrowed together in surprise. Mia had told him Nile took his own life after the accident, not .

  Kon’s sympathetic pat on Nye’s arm brought him back. “Sorry to hear that, man,” he said softly before turning to tend to another order.

  Nye forced a smile. “Thanks.”

  As Kon prepared their drinks, Nye turned to Bret, his voice carefully casual. “Hey, I also heard Nile and I were estranged. Wonder why.”

  Bret hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, you had a fight. Something sibling-y. Remember Vin said you came here once, upset, and spilled your heart out to him? You brothers haven’t talked since, apparently.”

  “Interesting.” Nye’s tone was light, but his mind was anything but.

  Kon returned with their drinks, “Your regulars—a Nova Whiskey for Bret and a vibrant, swirling cocktail for Nye. Nye examined the glass, its contents a mesmerizing blend of neon purple and lime green.

  Before he could take a sip, a familiar voice boomed behind him. “Hello, gentlemen!”

  Both Nye and Bret turned to see Vin, his grin uncharacteristically wider than ever. He enveloped Nye in a firm hug, his presence immediately commanding the room. “Got out as soon as I got the chance to check your message. You're good.” He whispered to Nye, patting on his back reassuringly before pulling back. Then he gave Bret a quick pat on the shoulder. “Bret”

  “Amigo.” Bret responded with his diva grin and a mock salute.

  “Got news!” Vin’s voice rang out as he vaulted over the counter with feline grace, his boots making a soft thud against the polished floor. “But first, let me make something special for you guys. It’s been too long, Nye.” He says, gazing at Nye and then turning his gaze to their current drinks on the counter. “Finish those up; I’ll get right into business,” he declared, shrugging off his satchel and pulling out his official bartender’s apron.

  The apron was simple—charcoal black with shimmering silver piping—but on Vin, it might as well have been a ceremonial garment. The black of his apron looked like an insult to the perfect black of his skin. As a Prime, his physique and shimmering blue eyes already made heads turn. Now, adorned in his apron, he exuded effortless charm that left no corner of the room untouched.

  Nye couldn’t help but grin as Vin tied the apron around his waist with a practiced motion. Relief flooded his chest—finally, he wouldn’t have to endure Bret’s eccentricities alone. As Vin began rummaging through his curated collection of alien fruits and infused spirits, Nye sipped the cocktail Kon had made him.

  The drink was a concoction of tangy, intergalactic citrus, paired with an unexpected kick of spice that seemed to tingle along his neural pathways. The density of the alcohol hit him first—a potent, almost electric sensation. Then came the kaleidoscope of alien flavors, ranging from sharp and zesty to faintly sweet, all woven together with something unplaceable yet irresistible.

  Nye’s face lit up with a bewildered smile. “Kon, what this?” he asked, taking another sip. “It’s like a firework exploded in my mouth—and I think I like it?”

  Kon glanced over, the faint shimmer of his lavender skin catching the lights. “That’s a . Secret recipe. You’re welcome.” He smirked.

  Bret, meanwhile, was in his own world, nursing a glass of Nova Whiskey, the dark liquid swirling with faint specks of stardust. “Oh, come on, Nye,” he said, his grin exaggerated. “Don’t act like you’ve never had a good cocktail before. Or is it the memory loss again?”

  “Bret,” Nye replied dryly, “not everything’s about my memory loss. Though I’ll admit this might be the first cocktail I’ve liking.”

  Bret snorted, raising his glass. “Cheers to small victories.”

  Nye tuned out Bret’s banter as his attention shifted back to Vin, who was now performing an impromptu display of bartending flair. He juggled bottles of vibrant liquids, flipped a small vial of liquid nitrogen into a glowing glass, and sliced a rare —an iridescent fruit native to the Kepler colonies—with surgical precision. The berry’s juices fizzed as they hit the liquid, emitting a faint lavender mist.

  Nye watched, equal parts envious and awed. Vin had that natural magnetism, the kind that made people want to orbit him. Nye wished he could summon even a fraction of that confidence.

  Finally, Vin placed the drinks before them—a tri-layered cocktail with colors that shifted under the light, topped with a sliver of the glowing fruit. “For my duo,” Vin announced, before crafting one for himself and sliding onto the stool beside Nye.

  Nye took a sip, his eyes widening. “Vin, this is incredible. Do you just have a knack for everything?”

  Vin smirked but said nothing, his eyes alight with suppressed excitement. He tapped the rim of his glass absentmindedly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips.

  “Okay,” Nye said, breaking the silence. “Spill it. What’s got you practically vibrating?”

  Vin exhaled sharply, unable to hold back any longer. “She said yes!” His words burst out, followed by a joyous laugh.

  “What?!” Bret choked on his drink as he nearly leapt from his stool, his enthusiasm as loud as a solar flare. “No way! My man! Congratulations!” He leaves his stool briefly to give Vin a congratulatory hug, which Vin had to reciprocate to—to his olfactory anguish. Then, Bret returned to his seat, taking a big sip of the cocktail. “Cheers!” He says. Vin raises his glass to that.

  Meanwhile, Nye blinked, utterly lost. “Uh, pardon me for not keeping up with the local dialect, but… who said yes? And to what?”

  Then, the laughter that followed made Nye flush in mild embarrassment. Bret slapped the counter, howling, while Vin chuckled, shaking his head.

  “Oh, Nye,” Vin said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You really are the sweetest little ignoramus sometimes.”

  “Vin, we agreed not to call him that!” Bret interjected between snickers, though he clearly didn’t mean it.

  Vin waved him off. “Alright, alright. Let me clarify. My girlfriend, Gema—we’ve been together for four years. Tonight, I proposed to her. And she said yes!”

  The weight of the news hit Nye like a meteor strike. “Oh,” he said, the word hanging in the air as he processed it. A pang of envy tightened his chest—marriage was so rare in this lonely, apathetic universe. To find someone, to commit—it was almost unheard of.

  But he pushed the feeling aside, forcing a wide grin. “First off, I’m sorry I don’t remember her, and second—congratulations, Vin! That’s absolutely wonderful!”

  Vin beamed, his face glowing with pride. “Thanks, Nye. It means a lot.”

  “So, how does it work?” Nye asked curiously. “Marriage, I mean. What’s next?”

  Vin and Bret exchanged amused looks.

  “Well,” Vin began, “we set a date—preferably at Sun Valley City—and host a ceremony. Lots of dancing, terrible speeches, and way too much food. Speaking of which…” He leaned closer. “I want you to be my best man.”

  Nye’s jaw dropped. “Me? What does that even mean?”

  Bret rolled his eyes. “It means you stand there looking dashing and keep him from fainting.”

  “I… don’t know what to say,” Nye admitted. “Except yes, of course! I’ll even research the role if I have to.”

  “Perfect,” Vin said, clinking glasses with him.

  The night dissolved into laughter and teasing, Bret poking fun at Vin’s romantic side while Nye enjoyed the lighthearted atmosphere. At some point, fueled by the cocktails and Bret’s relentless prodding, Nye confessed his growing attraction to Mia in his blissful intoxication.

  Vin was all encouragement. “Go for it, Nye! You’re a catch.”

  Bret, however, grumbled, “Mia? Really? She’s bossy.”

  “And you’re annoying, but we still love you,” Vin shot back, dismissing Bret’s opinion.

  That night, Nye staggered through the front door of his boho, minimalist home, his steps as unsteady as a comet veering off course. The alcohol coursing through his system turned the familiar layout into an intricate maze, and his usually sharp mind was now clouded with a pleasant haze of laughter and memories from the evening. His overcoat hung half-off his shoulder.

  “Welcome home, Nye,” Eve greeted him in her soft, modulated tone. She detected his uncoordinated movements instantly. “You appear intoxicated. Would you like assistance?”

  Nye waved her off with a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling something incoherent about independence as he shuffled past the entryway. His feet, which seemed to weigh a ton each, led him toward the living room couch rather than his bedroom. By the time he reached it, his legs gave out entirely, and he collapsed onto the couch with the grace of a fallen asteroid.

  Eve’s sensors picked up his rapid decline into a slumber even before his head hit the cushion.

  “Initiating relaxation protocols,” she murmured, dimming the ambient lighting to a warm, amber glow. The expansive glass walls of the room, which offered stunning views of the neon wild gardens outside, fogged over, shielding him from the outside world.

  Nye sprawled across the couch, his limbs haphazardly draped in all directions, a faint, peaceful snore escaped him—a sound so soft it was almost endearing. He slept like a heap of space junk, utterly immovable, the stress and tension from earlier in the evening having evaporated entirely.

  His thoughts didn’t linger on Vin’s encouragement or Bret’s teasing; they had dissolved into the fog of alcohol and fatigue. Yet, somewhere deep in his subconscious, the memory of Vin's unwavering support to tell Mia lingered like a faint star in the night sky. Nye’s breaths slowed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, as the AI quietly adjusted the room temperature to optimize his comfort.

  The house fell silent, save for the occasional whisper of a breeze through the ventilation system. Eve observed him for a moment, ensuring he was stable, before dimming further into standby mode. Outside, the expanse of his estate growled, screeched, and sang with wildlife, oblivious to the man sleeping soundly inside—he had drunk the best drinks of his lifetime.