[8:30 a.m.]
The sun bathed the streets of Manhattan in a golden hue. It was a normal morning—people walking to work, children in school uniforms, cafés opening their doors. Everything seemed peaceful.
[Bryant Park]
Micah walked hand-in-hand with Jane, his mother. Beside them, his father Asher was calmly answering a work call. Micah was only seven, but he felt safe between them, as if nothing in the world could go wrong.
But then the ground began to move.
At first it was a subtle vibration, as if something deep beneath had awakened. Within seconds, everything around them shook with tremendous force.
Car windows nearby shattered. The concrete cracked. People screamed, fell, ran. A roaring sound—impossible to describe—spread across the city. It was as if the sky itself had cracked open.
Micah didn't understand what was happening; he only felt a desperate tug from his mother trying to protect him. His father tried to shout but a tree uprooted from the ground fell over him, stifling every word.
A fissure opened just ahead of them, about ten meters away. Jane tried to step back with Micah, but part of the park sidewalk collapsed beneath her feet, nearly swallowing her. Still, with all her strength, she threw Micah toward a nearby patch of grass.
Then everything went dark. Fear overwhelmed him, and he lost consciousness.
[11:50 a.m.]
He woke up under harsh lights and the constant beeping of a machine. He was lying on a hospital bed, dust-covered, with dried blood on his forehead and a dull ache throughout his body. He looked around.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"
A nurse spotted him and rushed out to find help. Minutes later, two doctors examined him closely while behind them an officer spoke into a phone with a grave expression.
"He's the only child…" the officer began but didn't finish.
Micah didn't understand. He only remembered his mother pushing him as the ground swallowed her.
The clock read 12:00 p.m. More than three hours had passed since the disaster began, but now everything was eerily silent.
Outside the door, blurred murmurs came from doctors and officials. Squinting, he noticed a short figure approaching. He couldn't see clearly, his ears felt plugged, and everything seemed distant. The figure spoke, but he couldn't make out the words.
A nurse came back and escorted the figure away. Micah lay alone again… and fell asleep.
[1:30 p.m.]
After a while, he woke again, more steady. He had no idea how long he'd slept. He barely remembered distant voices, footsteps, flickering lights.
"Mom...? Dad...?" he murmured hoarsely.
A child's voice answered from the hallway:
"Mom, Mom! He's awake!"
A little girl peered at him through the glass. Moments later, the door opened—it was the same nurse who had been with him before.
"You can come in, but only for fifteen minutes, please."
Micah recognized the newcomers: Leyra, his friend, along with her parents, Zeshia and Magnus.
Leyra dashed forward to hug him, while Zeshia approached with concern.
"Are you feeling better, Micah? Does anything hurt?"
Magnus, silent, sat on the chair by the door and watched him sternly.
Leyra gently seated herself on the edge of the bed and hugged Micah tightly.
Leyra (softly):
"I missed you… Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
Micah stared at her, confused. He blinked.
Micah (low, trembling):
"My head… it hurts a little. Where's Mommy?"
Zeshia tensed up and moved in swiftly, offering a soft smile.
Zeshia:
"Oh, sweetheart… don't think about that now, okay? What matters is that you're here with us."
Micah lowered his gaze, frowning.
Micah:
"But… but she held my hand and pushed me. She was going to come back, I think…"
(he paused a few seconds)
"And Daddy? He said we'd eat cake when he got off work…"
Magnus, sitting still, crossed his arms. He exchanged a quick glance with Zeshia.
Magnus (firm but calm):
"Listen, champ. You've been through something really tough. It's best if you rest a bit. We'll talk more later, okay?"
Micah gripped the sheets tightly, bewildered. Leyra hugged him even tighter.
Leyra:
"When you get out, we'll play like before, remember? We can go to the park… even if it looks ugly now, we can still go."
Micah barely nodded, his eyes glassy.
They continued to speak softly without pushing him to respond.
[1:45 p.m.]
The fifteen minutes flew by. Too fast.
The nurse gently entered.
"Sorry… it's time for the patient to rest again."
Zeshia leaned over and stroked Micah's hair tenderly.
"We'll come back tomorrow, sweetheart."
Leyra didn't want to let go, but her mother took her hand.
Leyra:
"But Mom, Micah is alone!"
Zeshia:
"I know, but he needs to rest… and so do we," she said with a sad smile.
Micah said nothing. He simply watched them leave one by one. Magnus was the last. He gave Micah one serious look before closing the door.
Alone again.
He stared at the ceiling—white, cold. The beeping of the machine reminded him he was alive.
[2:00 p.m.]
Time blurred. Suddenly, the room lights flickered. He felt a faint tremor beneath the floor. Barely noticeable, but he sensed it.
His body tensed.
"Not again…" he whispered.
Yet nothing else happened. Maybe he just imagined it.
He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping not to dream. He didn't want to see the crack or hear the screams again.
[4:20 p.m.]
A new figure entered. Not a nurse this time.
A man in a dark uniform with an unfamiliar badge, alongside a serious-looking woman with her hair tied back, holding a folder.
Micah sat up, wary.
Woman:
"Hello, Micah. Don't be afraid, okay? We just want to talk to you for a moment."
Micah:
"Where are my parents?" he asked bluntly.
The adults exchanged glances, avoiding his question.
Woman (soothing):
"Let's not talk about that right now, okay? We want to know if you… remember anything from this morning."
(the man added)
Micah shrank back.
Micah:
"There was… a terrible sound. Everything was shaking. Mom told me to run. But I couldn't… she just pushed me."
The woman took notes without lifting her eyes.
Woman:
"Did you see anything on the ground? Anything… strange?"
Micah:
"Something black opening... black. I didn't see very well."
The man leaned closer.
Man:
"And did you hear anything when it opened?"
Micah thought for a moment, then shook his head.
The woman gently stroked his head and said:
Woman:
"Your mom and dad, your friend and her parents—they'll tell you about it, okay? Try to sleep a bit more."
They turned and walked out.
[Night – 9:10 p.m.]
Micah couldn't sleep. Not really.
Every time he closed his eyes, the crack reappeared—the sound, the fall, his mother's voice screaming his name.
The room was nearly dark, lit only by faint hallway light under the door.
Outside, footsteps echoed—hurried, heavy. Sometimes a metallic noise, like something being dragged.
Micah pulled the blanket to his neck. The air felt colder. Or maybe he just felt it.
---
[Cut to: hospital hallway]
A doctor and nurse spoke in hushed tones:
Doctor:
"There are reports from other cities… Chicago, Dallas, Vancouver… All fissures are different, but the energy is the same."
Nurse:
"And the 'awakened'? Is it really happening?"
Doctor:
"There are records. A worker in Chicago lifted a collapsed building with his bare hands. A doctor in Dallas stabilized twenty injured just by touching their chests. They say a screen appears in front of them, showing what they can do based on their strengths."
"It's real."
Nurse:
"And the boy?"
Doctor:
"He survived without critical injuries… and he was right on the edge of a fissure. That's not normal."
Half-asleep, Micah caught fragments of their words:
"Fissures… abilities… screens."
He closed his eyes. Something inside him had ignited. As if, deep within, a spark whispered that not everything inside him was gone.
---
[Five Days Later]
The city no longer sounded the same.
From his hospital room, Micah heard hurried military boots, the constant drone of aircraft overhead, and booming announcements over speakers. Everyone spoke of "abilities," "tuning into the system," fissures still opening… red zones.
Micah could walk now, though limping slightly. He approached his window. Outside, people were training. One raised a hand and a concrete wall rose up like water.
Micah watched silently.
But the strangest thing—each person was staring at empty air in front of them. He recalled what they called "a screen." Confused, he realized he could not see it. He thought maybe it was too far away.
He stepped away from the window and walked to the bathroom mirror in his room, staring at his reflection. He lifted a hand, mimicking the others. Nothing appeared.
Micah (whispering):
"Screen?" he mouthed, looking at himself. "System… I want one."
He waited. Only the overhead fan responded.
He frowned and raised both hands this time, waving them in front of his eyes. He snapped his fingers, then clenched his fists tightly.
Micah:
"Come on… I want a screen… everyone has one," he said, frustrated.
He collapsed to the bathroom floor, hugging his knees. Something odd pulsed in his chest. Not just fear. Something else… as if he had been forgotten.
He remained motionless on the cold floor. The drone sound outside echoed faintly, like a bothersome hum.
He rested his forehead on his knees… and his mind drifted to another place.
---
[Memory – Dad]
"Harder, champ!" his father laughed as he swung Micah by the arms through the air.
"More! More, Daddy!" Micah yelled, squealing in delight.
"You're a bolt of lightning, Micah—a superhero without a cape."
Micah looked at him, his eyes bright.
"And what are you?"
Asher smiled and swung him again.
"Your shield."
---
[Memory – Mom]
The memory shifted—softer, warmer.
Micah was wrapped in a blanket, sitting on his mother's lap while she gently combed his messy hair.
Jane (whispering with a smile):
"I told you not to go out without a hat. Now your head's cold and full of wind."
But he wanted to see the stars…
She wrapped him in a tight embrace.
"You are my star. And you will always shine—even if the sky breaks."
Micah said nothing. He closed his eyes.
---
[End of Memory]
He returned to the present with a lump in his throat. His little fingers gripped the fabric of his pajamas.
Micah (whispering, tearfully):
"Why didn't they take me with them?"
Outside, the training continued. But inside him, something shattered.
Moments passed. The door slid open with a "shh" sound. Micah jumped up, hope shining in his eyes.
Micah (shouting):
"Mommy!!! Daddy!!!"
He ran toward the hallway—and stopped. It wasn't them. It was Leyra, Magnus, and Zeshia.
Leyra ran at him, calling joyfully:
Leyra:
"Micahhh!! I missed you!!"
A doctor approached Magnus and Zeshia. In a serious voice:
Doctor:
"Please let them be for now. Stay with them."
The door closed, leaving Micah and Leyra inside the room.
---
[Hallway Conversation – Adults Only]
The doctor guided them down the hallway and spoke in low, concerned tones. Line after line, he explained they needed to carefully tell Micah about his parents.
Doctor:
"We don't know how he'll react. He may be blocking the memory or not fully grasp what happened. But it's important that he knows… although with care."
Zeshia pressed her lips together, anxious. Magnus looked down.
Doctor:
"We'll need to refer him to a child psychologist. It's not uncommon for a child in this situation to enter a critical mental state if he doesn't accept the loss. Sometimes silence is more damaging than truth, even if it hurts."
Doctor (continued, gently firm):
"Let's be clear. Micah survived an event few can imagine. He has no major physical injuries, but what he experienced… it's not going away."
Zeshia (whispering):
"How much longer does he need to be here?"
Doctor:
"Medically, he could be discharged as soon as tomorrow. But psychologically, he needs support—emotional containment, therapy, and above all, not feeling alone."
He paused.
Doctor:
"That's why I'm asking: it's important that you attend the sessions with him. You… and Leyra too. You're the only family figures he has left."
Zeshia nodded, tears in her eyes. Magnus looked at the doctor solemnly but didn't oppose.
Magnus (hesitant):
"And if… over time… he adapts with us? Not as his parents, maybe. But as one of us. Would that help?"
The doctor nodded gently.
Doctor:
"That would be best for him. But it will take time. He needs to feel secure, not replaced. We must proceed step by step."
Zeshia took a deep breath.
Zeshia:
"We'll do it. We'll stay with him."
Magnus, quiet but resolute, placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
---
[Pediatric Rehab – Therapy Room – Later That Day]
The room was warm, with soft pastel walls and toys arranged on shelves. Instead of cold office chairs, there were floor cushions, rag dolls, crayons, and blank sheets of paper.
Micah sat at a low table, staring at a wooden block in his hands.
Leyra sat next to him, legs crossed. She glanced at him occasionally but remained silent.
Magnus occupied a corner of the couch, quiet. He didn't seem at ease but he was there—a steady anchor.
Opposite them sat the therapist, Elina. She had a calm presence and a gentle voice as if not wanting to break anything fragile.
Elina:
"Micah… may I ask you something?" she said, twisting a crayon between her fingers. "What do you remember from the day you arrived here?"
The boy didn't answer right away. He lowered his gaze and his hands clenched the block. After a moment, he murmured:
Micah:
"There was a very awful noise. Everything was breaking. And Mom… she pushed me."
Elina nodded gently. She didn't press. She just continued.
Elina:
"And then?"
Micah swallowed. His fingers tightened.
Micah:
"Then… I was alone."
Silence filled the room like a cloud. Magnus frowned but said nothing. Leyra lowered her head, biting her lip.
Elina spoke again, even more softly.
Elina:
"Sometimes, when something very painful happens, our hearts take time to understand… even if we saw it with our own eyes."
Micah:
"Like when someone has a bad dream?" he asked without looking at her.
Elina:
"Sometimes, yes," she said. "But this isn't a dream, Micah. That's why we're here—with you. Not to tell you what to feel—but to help you understand that you're not alone."
Micah looked at her at last. His eyes weren't crying—they glowed with confusion.
Elina:
"Your parents aren't here, Micah," she said gently but firmly. "Not because they didn't love you or they didn't want to stay… but because they did everything they could: they saved you."
Micah said nothing. The wooden block slipped from his hands. Leyra hugged him without asking—he didn't resist.
Elina spoke again, even more slowly this time.
Elina:
"Micah… has anyone ever told you what it means when someone… can't come back?"
Micah furrowed his brow, searching his mind for something he couldn't name. He didn't reply.
Elina:
"Sometimes, when something very bad happens… there are people who can't stay with us. Not because they chose to leave… but because the world changed so much, so fast… that they didn't have time."
The boy's gaze fell. His feet twitched nervously on the carpet.
Elina:
"Your parents… did something very brave that day, Micah. They were with you, right?"
He nodded softly.
Elina:
"They… made sure that you would live," she said softly but clearly. "They used everything they had to protect you. Because you were everything to them."
Micah pressed his lips together. Leyra, without a word, took his hand.
Micah (whispering):
"They're not coming…?" his voice trembled as if he couldn't believe it.
Elina:
"No, sweetheart," she said, holding back tears. "They're not coming. But not because they didn't love you. But because… they're no longer in this world."
A shaky sigh escaped from Micah's chest. The words hit him like a cold wind. He didn't scream—he only lowered his head and let Leyra's embrace hold him.
Magnus moved closer, sat beside him, and wrapped an arm around Micah's shoulders.
Magnus (quietly):
"And although we can't replace them," he said softly, "we're going to stay with you. For as long as you need."
Micah didn't respond. He closed his eyes and, for the first time, let tears fall silently—feeling something more than sorrow: the beginning of not being alone.
---
[Days Later]
The therapy wasn't easy.
Micah didn't fully understand his feelings. Sometimes he sat in silence, eyes fixed on the floor. Other times he spoke as if everything were normal, as if his mind still believed his parents would appear any day.
Elina, with infinite patience, guided him through that sea of emotions he couldn't name. There were days when Micah cried without reason. Days when he simply didn't want to talk. And very few days when he smiled—even if just a little.
Leyra stayed by his side. In sessions, she sat next to him—sometimes drawing, sometimes holding his hand. She didn't speak much about what happened, but her presence was constant, warm—as if a tiny lamp alive in the darkness.
Magnus and Zeshia attended the family support sessions. Sometimes in silence, sometimes with heavy words. Their effort was visible: to understand, to hold, to accompany.
The days stretched as if unwilling to pass. But they did—one by one. And although the pain remained, and absence didn't erase itself, something began to shift.
Micah didn't feel completely alone anymore… even if not entirely healed.
Over time, Micah stopped asking why his parents didn't come back.
He didn't smile like before—but when he did… it was genuine.
There were cloudy days in his chest, yes. But gradually, flashes of light began to appear.
Elina didn't stop therapy. They continued weekly—not because Micah was broken, but because he was learning to live with the shards that remained.
And although the world outside still trembled—with fissures, with chaos, with systems—something inside him also began to move. To grow.
Micah didn't know it yet, but his story was only just beginning.
---
[Outside the Medical Center, At Dusk]
Nearly a month had passed.
Micah slowly pushed through the glass doors of the medical building. The evening air brushed his skin—fresh, clean. He closed his eyes for a moment—not because of the breeze, but because of everything this moment meant.
The world outside was no longer the same… but it wasn't in ruins either.
In the distance, workers raised concrete walls with just a wave of their hands. Watchtowers stood thanks to beams formed in seconds. Damaged buildings rose again as if time had reversed. Drones patrolled the sky—not with urgence, but as silent guardians over a city healing itself.
And the strangest thing… was what everyone was watching.
Each person seemed to see something invisible before them. They sometimes spoke aloud. They sometimes touched the air. Each one locked onto that "screen" only they could perceive. Micah had heard mention of "the system." He'd noticed it from his window. Now it was right in front of his eyes—but still he saw nothing.
He didn't stop to try.
He walked beside Leyra, who glanced at him without speaking. Magnus followed behind, watchful and protective. Zeshia waited nearby, smiling softly, a blanket ready in the back seat of their car.
Micah took a few more steps and stopped.
The sky had an odd—nearly violet—tint. But it was still sky.
Magnus (gently):
"Are you ready?"
Micah didn't answer. He just nodded.
Inside, something still hurt. Not everything was healed. But he was standing. And that, in this new world, already meant something.
Without another word, he took his first step out of the hospital.
And—even without a system, even without seeing a screen—in his heart something was beginning to awaken.