The last signal

THE LAST SIGNAL CHAPTER 1 FIVE DAYS EARLIER At exactly 11:47 p.m., every screen in the city went black. Not dim. Not frozen. Black. For three seconds, the entire city seemed to hold its breath. Then, high above the clouds, a thin blue line appeared. It stretched across the night sky like a c***k in glass. Nobody knew what it was. Nobody knew where it came from. And nobody noticed the tiny message that appeared on one ordinary phone in one ordinary bedroom. INCOMING TRANSMISSION The screen flickered. Then the message disappeared. Five days earlier, Leo had been worrying about something much more ordinary. His mathematics test. --- Leo opened one eye. “Leo!” He pulled the blanket over his head. “Leo!” His father’s voice came from the hallway. “If you’re awake, get up. You have school.” Leo stared at the ceiling. School. Right. He had forgotten. Or, more accurately, he had remembered and desperately hoped that forgetting would somehow make it disappear. His alarm clock showed 6:31 a.m. Leo immediately sat up. “Seriously?” He jumped out of bed. His room was small but comfortable. A desk stood beside the window, covered with notebooks, unfinished assignments, a broken pair of headphones, and several electronic parts he had promised his father he would organize. He had made that promise three months ago. Nothing had changed. As Leo grabbed his uniform, something outside the window caught his attention. He stopped. The morning sky was unusually clear. Far above the city, beyond the towers and transportation lanes, a tiny white light moved slowly between the clouds. Leo frowned. It looked almost like a star. Except stars didn't move like that. He stepped closer to the window. The light stopped. For a moment, Leo had the strange feeling that it was looking directly at him. Then it vanished. “Leo!” “I’m coming!” He grabbed his schoolbag and hurried downstairs. --- His father was standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand and a transparent tablet in the other. He glanced at Leo. Then he looked at the clock. Then back at Leo. “You know,” his father said, “most people use mornings to prepare for school.” Leo grabbed a piece of toast from the table. “I was preparing.” His father raised an eyebrow. “You were sleeping.” “That’s part of my preparation.” His father shook his head. “Eat.” Leo looked around the table. “Where’s the other toast?” “You have two hands.” “That isn't an answer.” “It is in this house.” Leo smiled. His father almost smiled back. Almost. There had always been something different about mornings in their house. Not because they were unhappy. Just quieter than they should have been. There used to be three people at the breakfast table. Now there were two. Leo's mother had disappeared when he was eight. No body. No clear explanation. No goodbye. Just gone. For years, Leo had asked his father what happened. Every time, he received the same answer. “We don't know.” Leo hated those words. We don't know. They were supposed to end a question. Instead, they created a thousand more. Leo still remembered pieces of his mother. Her laugh. Her perfume. The way she tapped her fingers against the table whenever she was thinking. And there was one other memory he could never explain. A blue light. His mother standing beside the window. And her whispering something he could never quite remember. His father had always told him that memory was probably a dream. Leo wasn't convinced. He finished his toast and reached for his bag. His father noticed him looking toward the window. “You're staring again,” he said. Leo turned. “At what?” “The window.” Leo shrugged. “Nothing.” His father watched him for a moment. Then his tablet made a soft notification sound. His expression changed. Only for a second. But Leo noticed. “What?” His father looked up. “What?” “You did the face.” His father frowned. “What face?” “The face you make when something’s wrong.” “I don't have a face for when something's wrong.” “You definitely do.” His father placed the tablet on the table. “Go to school, Leo.” Leo narrowed his eyes. “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the answer you're getting.” Leo sighed. “Fine.” He turned toward the door. “Leo.” He stopped. His father's voice suddenly sounded serious. “Don't stay out late today.” Leo turned around. “Why?” His father hesitated. “I just don't want you wandering around after dark.” “Did something happen?” “No.” The answer came too quickly. Leo stared at him. His father looked away. Leo knew he was hiding something. But he also knew that pushing his father too hard rarely worked. “Fine,” Leo said. He opened the door. His father spoke again. “And Leo?” “Yeah?” “Be careful.” Leo smiled faintly. “It's school, Dad. Not a war zone.” His father didn't smile. That bothered Leo more than the warning itself. --- The city outside was already alive. Autonomous buses moved silently along elevated roads. Delivery drones flew between skyscrapers. Digital advertisements floated above storefronts and changed depending on who walked underneath them. Technology had become part of almost everything. People trusted machines to drive their cars, organize their schedules, monitor their homes and even help them learn. Leo didn't completely trust technology. Maybe that was because of his father. His father had worked with advanced communication systems years ago, although he rarely talked about his old job. Whenever Leo asked about it, the conversation ended quickly. So Leo had learned not to ask. Mostly. He reached the school entrance and immediately spotted Marcus waiting beside the gate. Marcus, Leo’s closest friend and classmate, had known him for years and had a talent for appearing exactly when Leo needed either help or trouble. Marcus looked at him. “You studied, right?” Leo stopped walking. “Studied what?” Marcus stared at him. “The mathematics test.” Leo smiled. “Oh.” “Leo.” “I know what you're going to say.” “What am I going to say?” “That I'm finished.” Marcus nodded. “You are finished.” Leo shrugged. “Maybe the questions will be easy.” “You said that last time.” “And I was almost correct.” “You got forty-two percent.” “Exactly. Almost.” Marcus laughed. The two friends walked into the school building. --- The school looked ordinary from the outside, but almost everything inside had been modernized. Interactive walls displayed lessons. Students carried lightweight tablets instead of piles of books. Artificial-intelligence systems helped teachers create simulations and experiments. Yet despite all the technology, school still felt like school. Students complained about homework. Teachers gave tests. People arrived late. And Leo still wished Monday mornings didn't exist. During mathematics class, Leo tried to concentrate. He failed. His teacher continued explaining probability while Leo stared at the classroom window. Then his teacher stopped. “Leo?” Leo looked up. “Yes?” “Would you like to explain the answer?” Leo looked at the screen. Then at his teacher. Then at Marcus. Marcus silently mouthed, You're dead. Leo stood slowly. “Probability is…” He paused. “Probability is the mathematical way of proving that something probably happens.” The classroom went silent. A student near the back laughed. His teacher stared at him. “That,” she said, “may be the worst definition I have heard this year.” Leo sat down. Marcus leaned toward him. “You're a genius.” Leo whispered, “I know.” --- At lunchtime, Leo and Marcus sat beneath a tree behind the science building. Marcus was explaining a new game he had downloaded. Leo wasn't listening. His attention was fixed on the sky. Marcus eventually noticed. “You're doing it again.” Leo looked at him. “Doing what?” “Looking up.” Leo glanced toward the clouds. “Do you ever feel like something is watching you?” Marcus stopped eating. “That is a very strange question.” “I saw something this morning.” “What?” “A light.” Marcus looked toward the sky. “I don't see anything.” “It disappeared.” “Maybe it was a drone.” “It didn't look like one.” Marcus shrugged. “Maybe aliens.” Leo laughed. “You're an idiot.” “You're the one staring at the sky.” Leo smiled. But the strange feeling remained. Something had changed. He just didn't know what. --- That evening, Leo returned home. “Dad?” There was no answer. He checked the kitchen. Empty. The living room. Empty. He was about to go upstairs when he noticed something on the table. His father's tablet. Leo stopped. His father never left it lying around like that. The screen was still active. A file was open. Leo stepped closer. At the top of the screen were the words: PROJECT ORIGIN — ACCESS RESTRICTED Leo's curiosity immediately took over. He reached toward the tablet. The screen suddenly went black. Leo jumped. “What the—?” A voice came from behind him. “What are you doing?” Leo spun around. His father stood in the doorway. Leo swallowed. “What is Project Origin?” His father's face changed. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Then his father walked over and picked up the tablet. “Where did you hear that name?” “It was on your tablet.” His father looked at the screen. “Leo…” “What is it?” “Nothing you need to worry about.” Leo frowned. “That’s what you always say.” His father sighed. “Because you always ask questions you shouldn't.” “Maybe if you actually answered one, I wouldn't have to keep asking.” His father looked at him. Something painful passed across his face. Then he said quietly, “Your mother asked too many questions.” Leo froze. “What does Mom have to do with this?” His father didn't answer. “Dad?” “Go upstairs.” “No.” “Leo.” “You just mentioned Mom.” His father's voice became softer. “Please.” That word stopped Leo. His father rarely said please. And he had never said it like that. Almost afraid. Leo slowly turned and walked upstairs. But before he reached his bedroom, he heard his father make a phone call. Leo stopped. His father's voice was low. “We may have a problem.” Leo leaned slightly toward the stairs. A pause followed. Then his father spoke again. “The signal may have returned.” Leo's heart skipped. The signal? What signal? He quickly continued upstairs and entered his room. He closed the door. For several minutes, he simply stood there. Then he sat on his bed. His father's words kept repeating in his head. The signal may have returned. Leo reached for his phone. The screen was normal. No messages. No notifications. Nothing. He was about to put it down when the phone vibrated. Once. Leo looked at it. Nothing had appeared. Then it vibrated again. The screen went completely black. Leo frowned. A single line appeared. SEARCHING FOR CONNECTION… The lights in his room flickered. Leo stood up. “What is happening?” His phone vibrated a third time. A strange blue symbol appeared on the screen. Leo had never seen it before. Words appeared beneath the symbol. TRANSMISSION LOCATED. Leo stared. Another line appeared. SOURCE: EARTH His confusion deepened. Then the final line appeared. DATE OF ORIGIN: 100 YEARS FROM NOW. Leo stopped breathing for a moment. That was impossible. A timer appeared beneath the message. 59 DAYS, 23 HOURS, 59 MINUTES… Leo's hands began to shake. Then another message appeared. This one contained only one word. LEO. His phone screen flickered. A final sentence appeared. IF YOU ARE SEEING THIS, WE FAILED.