Five years changed the shape of everything.
Aurelia learned that before she ever learned the word time.
At six years old, she was small but composed, her black hair kept short and neat, her golden eyes always watching. She blended in well enough—too well, some might say. Teachers called her quiet. Neighbors called her polite. No one noticed the way she positioned herself near exits or how her gaze tracked movement long before sound followed.
The system noticed.
[OMNI-RANGER SYSTEM — DEVELOPMENTAL SYNC COMPLETE]
[USER AGE: 6 | COGNITIVE RETENTION: STABLE]
Aurelia stood at the edge of a public plaza, clutching a paper cup of juice while families passed by. A temporary barricade had been set up nearby. Sirens echoed faintly—distant, controlled. A minor incident, according to the public alerts.
To Aurelia, it felt… wrong.
The air carried tension, not fear. Anticipation.
Something's going to happen, she thought.
The system did not contradict her.
Then she saw him.
A boy about her age stood alone near the barricade, dark curls falling into his eyes. He wasn't watching the crowd like everyone else—he was watching nothing. Or rather, everything. His gaze drifted constantly, unfocused yet alert, as if his mind refused to settle on a single outcome.
He shifted position just before a street sign fell loose from its mounting and crashed where he had been standing moments earlier.
Aurelia's eyes widened.
That wasn't luck.
System, she thought carefully. Scan him.
[REQUEST DENIED]
Non-Grid individual. No detectable energy interface.
Aurelia frowned.
The boy noticed her staring and gave an awkward half-smile, like he wasn't sure whether to apologize for existing.
"Hey," he said. "You probably shouldn't stand there."
She blinked. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Bad spots have a feeling."
That made her heart skip.
Before she could respond, the incident escalated. A transport drone malfunctioned overhead, sparks raining as it spiraled toward the plaza. People screamed and scattered.
Aurelia felt the familiar pull of the Grid—ready, but waiting.
The boy moved first.
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her backward just as debris slammed down where she had been standing. They tumbled behind a kiosk, unharmed but shaken.
Aurelia stared at him.
"You knew," she said.
He grimaced. "I guessed."
That was a lie—but not a dishonest one.
Sirens grew louder. Rangers arrived moments later, armored figures moving in practiced formation, neutralizing the drone and securing the area. The crowd cheered.
Aurelia watched closely.
They were efficient. Coordinated. Predictable.
The boy beside her didn't watch them at all.
"Name's Eli," he said, brushing dust from his jacket. "You okay?"
"Yes," Aurelia replied. Then, after a pause, "Thank you."
He shrugged again. "Bad things don't like patterns. They slip through."
Her chest tightened.
System, she thought. Why didn't you warn me sooner?
Outcome probability remained within acceptable thresholds.
She looked back at Eli—who had acted without probabilities, without permissions, without power.
Not everything fits a system, she realized.
As Rangers escorted civilians away, Eli walked off without looking back, already absorbed in the moving world around him.
Aurelia didn't follow.
But she remembered him.
Far above, unseen and displeased, the Custodian adjusted its calculations once more.
Two anomalies intersected.
Probability of future divergence increased.
Aurelia sipped her juice, hands steady.
She had just met someone the system could not model.
And that, somehow, felt more important than power.