I did not sleep that night.

  Curled on my pallet, I pressed the earpiece against my skin and surrendered to the flood of functionary speech. Routines and checks, reports and updates poured into my consciousness in an endless stream. I had never heard so many words at once. Happiness washed over me, though I couldn't explain why this torrent of emotionless data should affect me so. Perhaps because it was the voidhold's voice. Its heartbeat.

  Gould's dry notation of our altitude:

  Redd's clinical assessment:

  Vilett's meticulous log:

  The earpiece hummed against my skin, a revelation unfolding in my mind. With this, I could track the functionaries' movements, and thereby slip through corridors unseen. For the first time, I could move through Zero untethered, invisible to the mechanical eyes that had tracked my every step since birth.

  I could maybe even help Larkin.

  The thought sparked an electric thrill through my veins. I should have been cautious with this newfound power, should have tempered my expectations, buried the wild ideas blooming in my mind.

  But the rush was intoxicating.

  And that's how the trouble began

  When morning came, I moved through my duties with secret joy throbbing in my chest, and when I was done, I hurried to find Larkin. His was in an empty corridor near the environmental controls, his body twisted in strange positions in a process he called "stretching”. In the habitation areas, humans required no functionary escort, so he was alone.

  "Shade." He straightened when he saw me, sweat beading at his temples. Wariness flickered across his face. "Is something wrong?"

  I shook my head. "You asked about something yesterday," I said quietly.

  His body tensed, though his expression remained neutral. "Oh. Did I?"

  "You did. The room. The prisoner." I took a step closer. "I know which one you mean.”

  "Do you?" His voice dropped to match mine. His eyes sparked with hunger, calculation, and excitement.

  “Yes,” I said. “And I can show it to you."

  ?

  He didn’t question how I was able to navigate the labyrinth of corridors without being seen by the functionaries, how I seemed to know exactly which routes were empty, which passages the they weren’t patrolling. Perhaps he assumed this was normal for a Zero-born human: an instinct for slipping between the gaps.

  I, meanwhile, foolishly believed that he'd known the true nature of the gift he had given me. That he'd chosen me as worthy of hearing the functionaries' secret stream of data and observations. Later I would understand my error, but at that moment, I was dizzy with the thrill of rebellion, of doing something forbidden with this man who moved like a creature of the void streams.

  Walking the corridors with another human felt oddly wrong. Larkin followed close behind, his footsteps almost as silent as mine as we ascended the corridor's gentle slope. I kept catching myself nearly reaching for his hand due to muscle memory from countless cycles with Oren.

  "These sections are rarely visited," I explained, keeping my voice low. "Maintenance is automated. Even the functionaries have little reason to come here except during scheduled checks. The White Room is just ahead.”

  "White Room?" Larkin echoed, voice sharp with interest.

  The approach corridor stretched before us, illumination dimmed to conserve energy in this seldom-visited sector. At its end stood the door—grimy white against the metallic walls, like a bone protruding from flesh.

  The access panel spoke softly in my ear: Touch to enter.

  My hand trembled as I pressed against the panel. The door slid open with a soft hiss, releasing a rush of sharp, antiseptic air. I stepped through, squinting as the harsh light assaulted my eyes.

  The ceiling viewport dominated the room, not with the electric storms outside but with the glare of artificial illumination. The stark white walls made the room seem larger and colder than it was. And there, caught in that merciless light, stood the figure.

  Larkin sucked in a breath, the sound wrenched from deep in his chest.

  "There he is," I said.

  Commander Sentix stood in this month's pose, arms outstretched as if sleepwalking. The stasis field that held him glowed with a faint blue light, visible mostly where it coated the lower half of his body. His face was frozen in a rictus of agony, muscles locked mid-scream, veins bulging across his forehead.

  "What in the hell..." Larkin's voice cracked. He took a step back, then forward again, as if pulled by morbid fascination.

  "This is Commander Zae Sentix," I explained, confused by Larkin's reaction. "Former commander of Voidhold Zero." When he didn’t answer, I added, “Did you mean someone else? I know of no other prisoner.”

  Larkin shook his head, moving forward one slow step at a time. The blood had drained from his face, leaving him ashen. "But this is..." He gestured vaguely, words failing him. "How long has he been like this?" he asked, coming within touching distance of the commander.

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  "I don't know the exact date. Before I was born.”

  “He killed Zero’s crew, right?”

  “Yes. Seventy-five souls.”

  "And they keep him like this... why?" His hand lifted toward the stasis field, stopping just short of touching it. "Stars above, why not execute him?"

  "It is his punishment," I said, repeating what I'd heard Yeller announce month after month. "He must reflect on his crimes for the full length of his sentence."

  "Which is?"

  "Twenty-two thousand five hundred months."

  Larkin's fingers curled into fists as he calculated. Then he let out a hiss of breath. "Almost two thousand years? That's not punishment, that's—" He stepped back from the commander, disgust etched across his features. "That's beyond inhuman."

  “Yes,” I said, puzzled by Larkin’s reaction.

  "And you..." His gaze swivelled to me, eyes wide with horror. "You're completely fine with this?"

  "I come here on the first of every month. It used to terrify me, but now I've learned to manage it."

  Larkin's hand went to his mouth. "You...come here? Regularly?"

  "A human must be present when Yeller performs the ritual," I explained, uncomfortable under his gaze.

  "What ritual?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.

  "Yeller recites his crimes, adjusts his pose, and checks the stasis systems."

  "Adjusts his..." Larkin's eyes darted back to the commander. "They pose him? Like a doll?"

  I nodded.

  "And you just... watch?"

  "I am human-present. It's my duty."

  "Duty?" Larkin's laugh held no humour. "Has he ever spoken? Given any sign of awareness?"

  I shook my head. "The stasis field prevents all movement."

  "But is he conscious?" Larkin pressed. "Aware?"

  "I've been told that he can hear."

  Larkin ran his hands through his hair, turning away from me to stare at the commander. His shoulders heaved with rapid breaths.

  "This isn't right," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

  "The punishment?"

  "Any of this." He spun back, his face transformed by shock and anger. "I knew he was frozen, but I thought it was like suspended animation. You know, peaceful nothingness. No one mentioned..." He gestured at the commander's contorted features. "This is torture, Shade. Plain and simple."

  "Torture?" The word felt strange on my tongue. "But this is justice. How else should he be kept?"

  Larkin stared at me in anger, then swept his arm in an arc to encompass the pristine walls. "This room is the functionaries' true face. Their control. Their ruthlessness."

  I took a step back, nervous around his fury. "I don't understand what you're saying."

  He moved closer, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "My home, Voidhold Four? It isn't just deteriorating, it's under complete functionary control. The accident I told you about? Deliberate. The functionaries sealed off sections, trapped humans inside, manufactured failures to thin our numbers."

  "No." I shook my head. "I don't believe you. Why would they do that?"

  "Because we're inefficient." Bitterness laced his words. "After the so-called accident, it was much easier to instigate protocols to keep us in line. You remember PQ9, right?"

  I nodded, my hand unconsciously going to my throat.

  "Each human on Four has a machine shadow, constantly vigilant for any deviance. Ready to correct any behaviour." He pointed at the commander. "What's happening to him is the ultimate outcome of all humans on Mosogon, just more slowly. This is…" He hesitated. “This is what I am trying to escape.”

  “Escape?” I barely knew what the word meant.

  "I learned to pilot. Volunteered for every suicide run they offered. Void scouting. External repairs in active storm zones." His grin stretched, wild and feral. "It gave me access to the void, and eventually, a channel to Voidhold ."

  "Voidhold Two?"

  "Yes." His voice softened. "Humans call the shots there. They've thrown off the machine yoke, built a life without servitude. I want to live there, to breathe free air."

  "But…no. You married my sister!” I felt my own anger kindling. “Why did you come here if you wanted to go to Voidhold Two?"

  Larkin's gaze shifted back to Sentix. "Because I need to prove myself first. Two wants to find Voidhold One. It vanished along with Zero over eighty years ago." He jabbed a finger at the commander. "He knows what happened to One. He's the only one who knows where it is, why it disappeared."

  "Why is finding One so important?"

  He hesitated, searching my face. "The voidholds weren't meant to be isolated. They were designed to work together, to form something greater." He gestured around us. "This isolation, these separate kingdoms—it's all wrong. We were meant to be unified."

  The words and ideas he was spouting seemed wrong, incomprehensible. This was knowledge I did not want. Then, through the earpiece I heard:

  My heart stuttered. "We have to go now,” I said, grabbing his hand.

  ?

  When we rounded the corner to enter the human habitation area, there stood Rashala, her face a mask of cold fury.

  "What is this?" she snarled, stalking toward us. Her gaze locked on my hand, which was somehow still in Larkin's grip. "He’s mine!"

  "Rashala, this isn't—" Larkin began.

  "Shut up!" she screamed. "I knew something was happening! I knew you were sneaking away. But with her?" Her laugh was bitter. "My sister, so ugly she can’t show her face? This is what you choose?"

  "Rashala, please," I said. "We were just—"

  "Just what?" She advanced on me, her hands curled into claws. "Showing him our secrets? Touching him? Did you think I wouldn't notice how you watch him?"

  "That's enough!" Larkin stepped between us. "Shade was helping me understand this voidhold. Nothing more."

  "Liar!" Rashala's eyes flashed with hurt beneath the rage.

  "We can discuss this later," I said quietly. "Yeller is coming."

  The mention of the functionary only inflamed Rashala further. "Of course! Call your machine friends! Hide behind protocols!"

  She lunged forward, but I dodged her grasp. Her momentum carried her forward, and she stumbled against the wall with a snarl of frustration.

  The corridor door slid open with a hiss, and Yeller appeared, its eye blazing orange.

  “Cease conflict immediately," it said.

  Rashala recovered her balance, pointing at me with a shaking finger. "She took him away from me!”

  Yeller's sensor eye shifted to red. "Confirm unauthorised interaction beyond designated permissions," it said, looking directly at me.

  "Yes." I couldn't lie, not directly to a functionary. My protocol was clear: I was not to engage with Rashala's husband without supervision, and certainly not to touch him.

  The eye pulsed brighter. "This is a protocol violation. Unauthorised physical contact. Unsanctioned access to maintenance corridors. Return to your quarters immediately."

  "Wait," Larkin interjected, stepping forward. "This is absurd. We were just talking. Humans must be able to move freely, speak to whoever they wish. You can't punish someone for a simple conversation."

  Yeller's head swivelled toward him, eye flashing crimson. "Your original protocols are irrelevant here. Zero maintains strict boundaries for optimal human development. Non-compliance is not permitted."

  "Non-compliance?" Larkin's voice rose in disbelief. "You're treating her like she's committed a crime!"

  "Further discussion terminated," Yeller stated. "Your protocol does not grant authority to challenge me."

  Larkin turned to me, frustration and concern warring on his face. "Shade, this isn't right. You shouldn't—"

  "It's okay," I said, cutting him off before he could say something that would only make things worse. "Don't worry about me."

  He stared at me. Rashala wrapped her arms around him.

  “Fine,” he said, letting her pull him down the corridor.