Justin left the college building as the final bell echoed behind him. The moment the last student stepped out, the walls shifted. It was almost silent — a low mechanical hum beneath the ground. Steel pillars retracted. Shock-absorbing foundations disengaged. Within seconds, the entire structure descended smoothly into reinforced chambers below the surface. The empty courtyard above sealed itself with layered composite slabs.
Learning from the tragedy of 2072, humanity had redesigned survival. Anti-seismic institutions became mandatory in developed regions. Schools, universities, parliaments, hospitals — all equipped with rapid descent mechanisms that activated at the slightest abnormal tectonic reading.
Some nations, like Japan, abandoned surface architecture entirely, constructing cities beneath layers of reinforced earth. Others relied on retractable engineering systems.
Poorer regions, unable to afford such technology, still built traditionally — hoping history would not repeat itself. Justin stepped onto a transit platform as the mag-train arrived. It moved silently, gliding over stabilized rails. Within minutes, he reached his sector.
His home, like most in his district, lay beneath the ground. The entrance hatch recognized his retinal scan and slid open. The air inside was cooler, still. Artificial lighting mimicked late afternoon sunlight.
His father was not in the common room. A plate of food sat on the table, covered. Justin ate in silence. He didn't check his Life Balance. He didn't speak. When he finished, he lay down in his narrow room. The ceiling lights dimmed automatically.
Sleep came quickly. And with it, the dream. He stood in a hallway that felt too long. The walls were metallic. Cold. The lights flickered overhead. Voices echoed — distorted, distant. Ahead of him, two figures were dragging someone away. A woman.
Her face was blurred, like smoke covering memory. Her hand stretched outward, fingers trembling, reaching toward something behind Justin.
He tried to move. His feet would not respond. Behind him, a man collapsed to his knees. He was holding a child tightly against his chest. The man was crying. Not loudly. Not screaming. Just breaking.
The woman's voice tried to say something — but the sound was swallowed by the corridor. The child reached out toward her. The distance between them stretched unnaturally, like the hallway itself was growing. The metallic doors at the far end slid shut. Silence. Justin woke abruptly.
His room was dark. For a few seconds, he didn't move. Then he turned to his side and stared at the wall. He had seen that hallway before. He just didn't know where. He couldn't get the nightmare out of his mind.
The hallway.
The woman being pulled away.
The man collapsing.
The sound of silence. Justin exhaled sharply and stood up from his bed. He needed noise. He needed distraction. He took the lift to the surface level — the regulated open zone where students gathered after classes. Artificial sunlight filtered through atmospheric shields above. The air felt warmer here.
"Hey Justin! I hope you're not mad at me," said the short boy with circular glasses, jogging toward him.
"Yeah, it's totally okay, William. I'm good," Justin replied, forcing a faint smile.
William studied his face for a second, then nodded. The third member of their trio was already setting up the field.
They didn't play air hockey on tables anymore. The ground itself was engineered. Electromagnetic panels beneath the surface generated controlled repulsion fields. When activated, a flat disc hovered slightly above the ground, gliding smoothly as if on air.
Justin picked up the paddle. The game began. The disc shot across the floor in a streak of white light. William deflected it. Justin moved faster than usual — aggressive, focused, silent. The ringing in his mind slowly dulled with every impact.
They played for hours. Laughing. Shouting. Arguing over points. For a moment, the world felt normal.
Then—
Zipp.
Buzz.
The sound was sharp. Metallic. Wrong. Justin froze. A sudden surge of heat flashed through his skull. His vision fractured into fragments of light. The ground beneath him seemed to tilt sideways. He collapsed.
"Justin!" William shouted.
The disc slid harmlessly across the field as both friends rushed toward him. "Hey! Hey, wake up!" the third boy said, shaking his shoulder.
From Justin's perspective, the world had become distant. Blurry. Shapes without edges. Voices echoed as if underwater. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears — constant, overwhelming — like drums beating inside his skull. The sky above flickered unnaturally.Green. Flickering.Then darkness swallowed everything. And he closed his eyes.
Justin opened his eyes slowly. The ceiling above him was familiar. His room. The artificial light was dimmed to evening mode. Two figures stood beside his bed.
"He's awake," Anthony said, still wearing his usual bright clothes — pink pajamas and a brown shirt that somehow clashed even in low light.
Justin looked at them and kept his palm on his forehead, trying to reduce the pain and remember what had happened.
"He looks disgusted by your clothes, Anth," William muttered.
"Why are you always jealous of my fashion sense?" Anthony replied.
"Nevermind. I don't want to wake up a dreamer."
Justin let out a faint breath that almost became a laugh. He pushed himself upright and stretched his arms. "What happened?" he asked.
"You collapsed," William said. "Mid-game."
"Was it dehydration?" Anthony asked.
Justin paused. He tried to replay it — the sound. The heat in his skull. The flicker of green.
"No," he said slowly. "It didn't feel normal. It felt… wrong. But maybe you're right."
"You should check your balance," William said casually. "See how many years you lost." Anthony said
Justin nodded. "Yeah. I'll do that."
He reached into the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a small handheld chronometer — a matte-black device shaped like a wrist module. He activated it and pressed it first beneath his tongue, then against the skin of his wrist.
The device hummed.
Ring.
Ring.
A sharp vibration pulsed through it. Justin stared at the display. Then he stood up too quickly and nearly dropped it. William and Anthony were arm wrestling across the room when they noticed his expression.
"Guys…" Justin said.
"Are you waiting for me to kiss you or something?" William replied without looking up.
"What is it?" Anthony asked.
Justin swallowed. "I have forty more years."
William stopped mid-motion. Anthony let go. The room fell silent.
"What?" William said.
"I didn't lose years. I gained them."
Neither of them spoke. Anthony grabbed the device and checked it himself. He recalibrated it and scanned Justin again. Same reading. He left the room without a word. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a secondary scanner. They tested Justin again. Same result. Anthony lowered the device slowly.
"That's impossible," he said. "Forty years isn't a mistake. That's… that's millions in market value."
William looked at Justin carefully now.
"Why would someone give you that?"
Justin stared at the number glowing on the screen.
Forty.
"I don't know," he said quietly. "But whoever did this…"
He looked up at them.
"I need to know why."