STARLIGHT UNBOUND by Deus Ex Machina - HTML preview

STARLIGHT UNBOUND

first glance, it all seemed mundane, another bureaucratic system report. But when Harun opened one of the flagged folders, everything shifted.

The monitor filled with a grid of star charts, each labeled with a name and date of birth. Lucien recognized the format instantly —it was identical to the structure used to generate a person’s Chart of Life.

Something was wrong.

Several charts were slashed with red lines, others marked by a small, blinking icon in the corner. Lucien frowned, leaning in closer. “What are those markings? ”

Harun clicked on one of the flagged charts, opening it. The display revealed an incomplete record —entire sections missing, overwritten with that same ominous red icon. His voice was grim. “These are erased charts. People whose alignments were flagged as... incompatible.”

His stomach twisted. “Incompatible with what?”

Harun scrolled through more files, his tone dark. “With harmony. With the Order’s definition of balance.” He opened another file—this one an internal memo, decades old. The dense, clinical text was filled with technical jargon, but the meaning was clear:

“Subjects flagged as non-aligned present significant risk to societal stability. Recalibration recommended in cases of high deviation. Erasure required for cases beyond adjustment thresholds. ”

The words blurred in Lucien ’s vision, his mind struggling to process them. Recalibration. Erasure. They weren ’t abstract concepts—they were people.

Lyra leaned in as Harun opened the next folder. A series of video files appeared, each labeled with dates and cryptic tags. She exchanged a glance with Harun before nodding.

Harun hesitated for a split second, then clicked on the first video.

The screen changed, showing a sterile, featureless room. A man sat in a chair, his hands trembling, his eyes fixed on the floor. A cold, mechanical voice echoed through the speakers.

“Subject 4728. Alignment: incompatible. Recalibration commencing.”

The man flinched, his entire body tensing as though bracing for an unseen force. A sleek machine descended from the ceiling, its arms extending toward him. Before the process could begin, the screen cut to black.

But the sound remained—slow, rhythmic clicks, mechanical and precise. The kind that crawled under your skin.

Harun shut the video, his hands trembling slightly as he moved to the next file. “They’ve been doing this for years.”

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