THE DAY AFTER THE FRACTURE
Morning in Greybridge always felt muted, but today the city was suffocating.
Cars crawled along cracked asphalt with headlights on though the sky was bright. People walked faster than usual, avoiding eye contact, muttering excuses they didn't believe.
Yet no one said why. No one could say why.
Aiden Thorn walked among them with his backpack slung over one shoulder, notebook inside, posture relaxed but movements perfectly efficient—no wasted steps, no unnecessary shifts of balance.
He looked like any other quiet student heading to school.
But inside his mind, the world was being disassembled and cataloged.
*************
The moment he awoke that morning, he knew his consciousness was different.
His thoughts were faster—not in the sense of urgency, but in the sense of optimization. There was no emotional weight behind them. No internal monologue. Just pure, cold process.
When he blinked, symbols flickered on the inside of his eyelids.
Not words. Not UI. Not helpful messages.
Just fragments:
■—LAYER 3B PRIME ■—CONFIG—LOCKED ■—NEURAL THREADING: ACTIVE ■—ACCESS: 0.3%
It was like being given the output of an impossible engine without instructions. The System didn't guide. It didn't train. It simply was—silent, indifferent, vast.
Aiden appreciated the challenge.
Systems with tutorials catered to the weak. Systems meant for perfection were obstacles, not aids.
And obstacles could be studied.
Analyzed.
Dismantled.
He adjusted the straps on his bag as he walked along the crowded street, listening to snatches of conversation.
"Couldn't sleep last night…" "Did your lights flicker?" "The air feels heavy, right?" "My dreams were— I don't know, blurry."
Aiden didn't comment.
He simply noted:
Post-Fracture Syndrome is widespread. Symptoms: Instinctive fear, sensory distortion, memory fog. Cause: System-level memory masking? Probability: 83%.
A truck passed him, its wheels grinding against the gutter. The noise echoed strangely, as though the world's acoustics had shifted half a degree to the left.
Aiden paused.
A faint hum vibrated in the air.
No one else reacted.
He closed his eyes.
Listened.
The hum was faint but regular—a pulse, like a heartbeat made of pure information. It vibrated through the concrete, the metal, the air. No direction. No source.
A global signal. A steady whisper:
■—CALIBRATION— ■—CALIBRATION—
Aiden opened his eyes. The hum stopped.
He continued walking.
*************
Greybridge High looked wrong.
Not visually. The building was the same decaying structure of beige concrete and graffiti that it had always been. But the atmosphere…
Students huddled in groups, speaking quickly, anxiously. Teachers moved stiffly, eyes shadowed. The principal stood by the gate, forcing a smile that wavered every few seconds.
Aiden entered through the main doors.
Immediately, he felt it.
A pressure. Faint but undeniable.
The System resonated.
■—DETECTION: ANOMALOUS AURA FIELD ■—SOURCE: UNIDENTIFIED ■—RISK LEVEL: VARIABLE
He stopped in the hallway.
Students brushed past him.
A girl bumped his shoulder and stuttered, "S-Sorry—" before quickly hurrying away, not knowing why his presence unnerved her.
Aiden didn't glance at her.
His attention was on the air itself.
The pressure fluctuated—pulsing inwards, then releasing. Subtle. Almost gentle. But impossible.
Aura.
Unrefined. Uncontrolled. Wild.
Aiden considered the implications.
Aura used to exist only in myths, occult circles… now manifesting post-Fracture? System interference likely. Probability: 91%.
He walked toward his classroom.
With every step, the pressure grew stronger. He could track it like following a scent.
Something powerful was in the school
**********
Class 3-B was a room barely holding itself together. Flickering lights. Broken blinds. Desks scarred by generations of bored students.
Aiden took his seat by the window—the furthest corner, optimal for observation, minimal for social contact.
He had been sitting there for two minutes when the source entered.
A boy with messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and a nervous twitch.
Elias Crane.
An unremarkable student. Ordinary grades, ordinary social life, ordinary personality. But today—
His presence made the fluorescent lights buzz.
When he walked, the chalk on the board vibrated.
His shadow stretched a little too far.
Students glanced at him with instinctive discomfort, then quickly looked away.
Aiden's eyes narrowed.
Post-Fracture awakening? Aura instability? Potential first observed "deviation" in subject population.
He opened his notebook.
He wrote:
Subject: Elias Crane. Condition: Aura Emergence. Notes: Instability high. Psychological distress likely. Potential danger: Moderate.
The teacher, Ms. Ralston, began roll call but kept faltering. She kept glancing at Elias as though something about him made breathing harder.
Aiden felt no fear. He felt interest.
Elias sat down two rows ahead, shaking slightly.
The System pulsed in Aiden's mind.
■—SIGNAL INTERFERENCE DETECTED ■—LOCAL AURA SIGNATURE: ERRATIC ■—POTENTIAL HOST CANDIDATE: NO
Aiden quietly exhaled.
Host candidate?
Meaning: The System evaluated other humans.
Meaning: The System judged Elias and rejected him.
Meaning: The System had criteria.
Aiden leaned back in his chair, processing possibilities.
The lesson began. He paid enough attention to memorize everything automatically while observing Elias.
Halfway into class, Elias jerked violently.
The room fell silent.
A pen rolled off a desk. A student gasped.
Auden watched Elias's aura flare—an invisible pressure that pressed against the walls, bending the fluorescent lights like heat waves.
Ms. Ralston whispered, "E-Elias… are you feeling okay?"
Elias clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp.
"I don't— I don't know what's happening— I can't— it's too loud—"
Aiden tilted his head.
**Aura sense overload? Common trope in fiction, now manifesting as real phenomenon. Analyze: sensory input feedback loop. Neural pathways flooding. Lack of mental filtration. Subject integrity deteriorating.
Elias dug his nails into his scalp.
The lights flickered violently. Several students yelped. A desk creaked as if it were suddenly bearing far more weight than before. The air thickened until breathing felt like inhaling syrup.
Elias whimpered, "Make it stop—please—make it stop—"
He wasn't speaking to anyone in the room.
Aiden listened beyond the audible words. The patterns in Elias's voice were wrong—modulated by something deeper, like a second voice overlapping in a frequency humans weren't meant to perceive.
The chalk on Ms. Ralston's hand snapped in half.
"Everyone, stay calm—" she began, voice trembling.
She didn't finish. Elias's aura suddenly spiked. Not outward—inward. As if something inside him was collapsing, folding, condensing into a singularity of pressure.
The lights exploded.
Glass rained over the room. Screams filled the air. Students ducked under desks. Someone cried. Someone else hyperventilated. The faint smell of burning copper seeped from the ceiling.
Aiden stood.
Not out of fear. Simply because sitting was no longer optimal for survival.
He watched Elias twitch like a malfunctioning puppet.
The boy's eyes rolled back, showing only white. His veins darkened, pulsing like roots of a diseased tree. His spine twisted unnaturally. His chair cracked under him.
Aiden analyzed in real time:
Pattern resembles early-stage eldritch contamination? Probability 42%.
Could be raw aura backlash. Probability 38%.
Could be—unknown variable. Probability 20%.
Proceed with caution.
A low hum filled the room.
Not from Elias.
From the world.
Aiden's System pulsed sharply, the fragments inside his mind vibrating in warning:
■—DANGER—UNCLASSIFIED PHENOMENON ■—PROXIMITY: EXTREME ■—WARNING: DO NOT INTERFERE
How curious.
The System had made its first recommendation.
No.
Its first command.
Aiden almost smiled. Almost.
He ignored the warning.
He took a step forward.
"A-Aiden, what are you doing!?" a student whispered, voice shaking.
Aiden didn't answer. He approached Elias calmly, each step calculated to avoid broken glass on the floor.
Elias's aura rippled like heat distortion around him. It reached Aiden's front foot—and recoiled, like something unseen had been burned.
Interesting.
Aiden continued approaching.
Elias's body convulsed. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
Aiden reached out.
Not to touch him—not yet—but to test the air between them.
The invisible field shivered, bending like soft metal pressed under a blade.
Aiden's thoughts accelerated:
His aura is unstable but reactive. Instinctual defense mechanism. Possibly parasitic. Possibly awakening.
If left unchecked, the subject will rupture. Casualties imminent.
If contained—data acquisition possible.
If observed—insight potential high.
The System pulsed again:
■—RECOMMENDATION: EVACUATE ■—RISK: INVALID PATH
Aiden's fingers curled slightly.
Invalid path? According to what metric? Efficiency? Survival rate? System compatibility?
The System offered no answer.
He leaned closer to Elias, studying every tremor in the boy's muscles, every fluctuation in his field of pressure.
Elias gasped, "It's… looking at me—"
The classroom went dead silent.
Aiden's voice was low, controlled, empty:
"What is looking at you?"
Elias's trembling intensified. His nails tore small streaks of blood down his face.
"It's in the walls—it's in my head—it's in the—"
His words dissolved into static.
Actual static. The air crackled like a detuned radio.
Aiden's eyes sharpened.
External interference. Non-human. Non-physical. Source: unknown.
Reality thickened. The windows darkened. Shadows along the walls elongated unnaturally, stretching toward Elias like curious tendrils.
Students sobbed. Ms. Ralston fainted.
Aiden remained still, observing the shadows closely.
Not sentient. Reflexive. Feeding off Elias's instability. Not a threat unless provoked.
He reached out again—this time mentally, focusing on the buried threads of the System.
■—NEURAL THREADING: ACTIVE
■—LINK OFFSET: VARIABLE
■—ACCESS POTENTIAL: 0.3% → 0.31%
A microscopic increase.
But Aiden felt it—a slight opening.
He pushed.
Something in the air snapped.
The shadows froze. Elias convulsed once—and the aura collapsed inward as if sucked into a vacuum. The lights stabilized. The pressure in the room lifted instantly. The static vanished.
Elias fell limp.
Silence.
Aiden stood over him expressionlessly.
He noted:
Subject stable. Aura dormant. Contamination unclear. Further study required.
Environmental instability ceased.
System interference minimal.
Outcome: acceptable.
Students slowly emerged from under desks. Crying. Shaking. Confused. Horrified.
No one approached Aiden.
They didn't know why—but they felt it on an instinctive level.
Something about the boy near the window wasn't… human.
Not fully.
Not anymore.
Aiden walked back to his desk and sat down, opening his notebook.
He wrote:
Elias Crane: first observable crack in baseline reality.
Fracture aftermath accelerating.
Aura awakening: confirmed.
Shadow phenomenon: possibly semi-sentient.
System warning: ignored without consequence.
Result: Subject stabilized.
Hypothesis: I can interfere with aura fields through System-linked cognitive pressure.
Next goal: reproduce effect intentionally.
He closed the notebook as the paramedics finally arrived.
No one questioned Aiden.
No one wanted to look directly at him.
He picked up his pencil and waited for class to resume—though he already knew it wouldn't.
Instead, the principal's voice cracked through the intercom:
"Students… please calmly proceed to evacuation points… there has been… an incident."
Aiden stood again and joined the flow of students out of the school.
Not because he needed to.
But because now, the city was a ripe hunting ground for data.
He stepped outside.
The sky was gray.
The air was heavy.
People were terrified.
Aiden felt nothing.
But somewhere deep within the System, something responded to his defiance earlier.
A new fragment flickered across his mind:
■—PERFECTION PATH: 0.0001%
Aiden blinked slowly.
So there was a path.
He stepped onto the street, blending into the panicking crowd, an expressionless figure whose shadow did not behave correctly under the sun.
There was no fear in him.
Only calculation.
Only silence.
Only the pursuit of something impossible.
He adjusted his backpack strap and began walking toward the next anomaly.
The day after the Fracture had only begun.
And Aiden Thorn intended to dissect all of it.