Stillness gripped the cemetery. As the ground cooled, it exhaled a dense, narrow curtain of mist. Scarcely a soul remained. The birds sang the final, melancholic notes of dusk.
Two shadows approached a grave built only two years prior. Within rested the meager remains of a woman. A mother.
Young Erlantz carried the flowers. They were pink and white, smelling of purity. Their petals tickled his nose as he walked; the bouquet was so large he could barely see over the blooms.
"Aita, is it much further?" the boy asked Oinatz.
Oinatz was a man deep into his grey years, his face weathered like cured leather. The weight of life was etched into every furrow of his skin. His calm expression stood in stark contrast to his somber eyes. His son’s eyes were identical, though the sweetness they reflected was an inverse mirror, filled with a bright, untarnished light.
"We’re here. That one. Leave the flowers where ama rests and come back." The man rubbed his hands together to stave off the chill. Ghostly plumes of vapor escaped his mouth with every word.
The moment Erlantz began to lay the flowers, one by one upon the frozen stone, a shrill croak tore through the silence. A crow perched on a nearby mound, watching the scene with inquisitive eyes. The boy felt a prickle of unease as his gaze met the animal’s. Its absolute blackness made him take a fearful step back.
"Don't be afraid. It’s only a crow," Oinatz said, beckoning him back with a wave of his hand.
Erlantz’s father placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, looking at him with sudden gravity.
"You’re ten years old now, son. Soon, you’ll begin the transition into manhood." His expression softened. "I know it’s been hard for you, without ama."
Erlantz felt a sharp pang in his chest. His eyelids grew heavy and wet. A few solitary drops traced delicate paths down his face.
"Yes," the boy whispered, the word catching in his throat.
"It’s been hard for me, too. For both of us." Oinatz reached out and handed him a handkerchief.
Erlantz wiped his tears under the bird's watchful scrutiny. He met the crow's eyes again, but this time he didn't flinch. He stared back, defiant. The animal merely preened its feathers.
"Listen to me," his father demanded. "You must burn this into your memory."
"I'm listening, Aita."
"Haizea didn't die from illness or any natural cause. They killed her. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. You know who they are."
"I know," the boy replied, glancing cautiously at their surroundings.
"How could you not, when they are everywhere?" Oinatz stroked Erlantz's hair gently, ruffling it with a faint smile. "We will never have peace, neither you nor I, unless we do something about it. Never forget. Your mother was a great woman who gave everything for us... and for the things that are still worth fighting for." For a fleeting second, Oinatz’s mind drifted back to the day he first met her.
"I won't forget," Erlantz whispered. A croak echoed again, sounding more mournful this time. "I never will."
"If you like, we can leave some crumbs for our friend later," Oinatz said, turning his head toward the crow. In that instant, an almost imperceptible blue shimmer flickered from the bird.
In that moment, he understood.
"Don't move."
Erlantz nodded, freezing in place.
The man took several steps, circling the mound where the bird sat. He moved without a sound—slow, deliberate, decisive. In the span of two seconds, his hand vanished into his black jacket and emerged with a pistol. He leveled the barrel and fired at point-blank range.
The gun hadn't been used in a long time. An Intxorta III: a classic. It was the standard sidearm for members of Aberria ala Hil.
The laser tore through the synthetic bird. There were no prying witnesses to see the black feathers drift onto the mound, nor to witness the shower of sparks and the now-exposed internal circuitry.
The boy remained motionless.
Oinatz approached Haizea’s grave. He traced the groove of the stylized lauburu engraved on the stone. His memory drifted one last time—to their final day together.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
"Maite zaitut," he murmured under his breath. "Time to go, Erlantz. Our friend won't be needing those crumbs after all."
"Yes, Aita." Erlantz stole one last look at the smoking bird before running back to his father's side. Oinatz pulled him close by the shoulder, and they began to walk.
The disintegrated remains of the crow lay on the ground like rotted, fallen fruit. The air reeked of scorched circuits. The crow was consuming itself, melting in the heat. A solitary column of smoke unraveled as it climbed toward the sky.
Half an hour later...
The night was ominous. It had been that way ever since the Hecatomb. The sky had a viscous texture, casting a layer of rot over everything. The apparent silence felt heavy, suffocating.
They walked without speaking, Haizea’s memory still heavy between them. Every stride cut through the swirling navy-blue mist at their feet. They returned the way they had come, toward where the gravity vehicle awaited. They had a short journey ahead to reach their home: the Santutxu 01 Megablock.
But before they reached the vehicle, Oinatz stopped. Erlantz, having walked a few meters ahead, realized his father wasn't following.
"What is it, Aita? ...Aita?" he asked, puzzled.
There was no answer. No movement. He stood like a statue silhouetted against a dark sky—a sky without moon or stars, a victim of "climate blindness."
Erlantz approached. When he saw his father's face, he recoiled in terror. The man looked like the living dead. His gaze was lost in a void. He had never seen him like this.
"Aita, what's wrong? What's happening?"
Silence. Oinatz remained standing as if nothing were amiss.
"Aita, please, we have to go home. Come on, please!" Anxiety began to claw at the boy. He tried to grab his father's arm to pull him, but it was like trying to move a mountain.
"Aita, what are you doing? We have to leave!" he screamed, desperate and sobbing.
Oinatz’s face was deathly pale. He seemed rooted to the earth, staring without seeing. His muteness was a physical blow to his son. Erlantz lunged forward, trying to shake him, to persuade him to wake up.
He looked like a soul-less scarecrow. As the boy gripped him with both hands, he saw blood begin to leak from his father's nostrils.
First a drop. Then another. They slid down his face like stray, crimson tears.
Erlantz watched, transfixed, as the red liquid soaked into his father's jacket. He couldn't react when the blood began to soak him as well. It was flowing uncontrollably now.
Oinatz’s head tilted at an unnatural angle. His pupils vanished, leaving only a white, empty sclera threaded with thin veins of blood.
Erlantz, trembling and drenched in his father's blood, stood paralyzed. He could only feel the rhythmic drip of the blood hitting him. Then, he screamed—a sound of pure helplessness, fear, pain, and isolation.
But no one heard him.
Robert A. Elosegui had sent them. A wanted dissident had been located after the accidental discovery of his pistol.
The elegant black ship with purple thrusters descended vertically nearby. From within, special agents watched as a Techno-Emergency medical pod carried away a hollow-eyed man on a stretcher.
Two officers from the Automated Communities (AC) were speaking to a young boy. They were the ones who had alerted their superiors; upon searching the man, they had found the weapon.
An elderly couple, who had stumbled upon the tragic scene of father and son while walking the Old Path, had called for help, and the police had arrived shortly after.
"Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?" a cyborg, armored from head to toe, remarked.
"That's how Russian roulette works—except here, there are three bullets," replied his superior, whose face was encased in a plastisteel helmet that revealed only his eyes and mouth. "Pure statistics. Same thing happened to an acquaintance of mine last week."
"This one was under surveillance according to the guy on the 'Computer,'" the cyborg added.
"Well, he won't be anymore. You can be sure of that."
The two elite agents shared a hollow laugh.
"What are we doing with the kid?" The cyborg’s face twisted into an unpleasant grimace.
"He's alone. Take him to the orphanage."
"Which one?"
"Orders from above say Ardatza, under the Etorkizun Corp."
"And after that?"
"We swing by Santutxu Megablock 01 to see if they find anything else."
"God, what a bore," the cyborg spat.
"Your name is Erlantz, right?"
"Yes," the boy said cautiously.
"Don't worry, nothing's going to happen. Just stay calm." The officer flashed a practiced, patronizing smile.
The military lead stroked the hair of Oinatz’s son. With his other hand, he checked his watch.
"Come on. Have you ever ridden in an AC Army 'Razor' ship?"
Erlantz felt a surge of revulsion and terror as he looked into the eyes hidden behind the masked face.
"Though, you’ll have to clean yourself up before you step inside."
-
Intxorta III: A deprecated laser pistol of local manufacture from the Euskal Zone. The Intxorta line began as firearms, but the III variant shifted to laser energy cells. The name references an ancient battle. It was a staple for Resistance factions until replaced by the IV.
-
Megablocks: Massive residential structures designed for the working class, prevalent since the 24th-century population explosion. They feature "Algorithm" infrastructure and biometric devices in every unit.
-
Gravity Vehicle: While wheeled transport has been common for centuries, aerial vehicles (save for low-altitude exceptions) are museum pieces due to post-collapse conditions. Gravity-based tech has gained popularity, hovering 30–50 cm off the ground. Globally, 60% of vehicles use kinetic bio-vapor engines, 30% gravity, and 10% hydrogen.
-
Lauburu: An ancient symbol of the Basque Country (Euskal Herria). It gained prominence after the Hecatomb. Its mystery lies in how various ancient cultures adopted similar forms without contact. It is associated with motion and the sun, though no definitive proof exists.
-
Climate Blindness: The sky over 2512 Euskal Herria is an almost solid ceiling due to the fallout of the Hecatomb, specifically nuclear weaponry. The sun and moon are obscured, rarely seen in full, and stars are invisible. Astronomy is obsolete. The world remains in a state of 60–70% nuclear winter, making for a grim transition.
-
Razor: A low-altitude VTOL (Vertical Take-Off and Landing) craft used by the special forces of the Automated Communities. Typically used by units close to the Executive, serving a military-political police function.
-
Images of datapad terms and video here: