Terrorist attack

When he wakes up in the morning, he notices that he has slept on top of the cylinder, which has left a red mark on his chest. He wakes up earlier than usual, and he manages to enjoy a strengthening cup of real tea and cook his emergency ration before the wake-up alarm sounds. Confused by the intense dream, dizzy from the colors he experienced, the sensation of touch and sound. It doesn't feel like a regular dream. He wonders if this is what a religious revelation is like. He walks lightly to the gathering point. On the way, the scent from the bakery is just as alluring as it was yesterday. He wonders if the flower arrangements in the bakery's window are real or made of fabric or plastic. They look unnaturally fresh. As usual, he stands at the front when the bus arrives, and, as usual, he's the last to board. He dozes off when the bus suddenly stops. Have they reached their destination? Upset voices can be heard. Bangs? Is something breaking, has the bus broken down? A peculiar crackling sound, he can't place it. Serious men board the bus and grab the bus driver. He can see them throwing him out on the ground outside. Surprised, it's not quite like that, that's not how it's usually done. Another person boards the bus, fires a shot into the ceiling, the noise is deafening, his ears ring, and in the distance, he hears screams, people pushing and shoving. They jostle him, but he struggles to remain in his seat. He feels something cold, then warm and wet. This is not good, he thinks.

...

He wakes up, feeling refreshed but bewildered by the lifelike dream, still reeling from the colors, sensations, and sounds he experienced. It doesn't feel like an ordinary dream. With solemn steps, he heads to the assembly point. On the way, the enticing smell from the bakery is just as tempting as yesterday. He stops outside the bakery's window, gazing longingly at the lined-up pastries and sweet treats. They look unnaturally fresh. As usual, he stands at the front when the bus arrives, but today, he boards first, choosing to sit at the back for some reason. He's not sure why; it's just a feeling he has. He half-dozes as the bus suddenly stops. Have they already arrived? He hears agitated voices. Gunshots? The sound of automatic fire, just like he heard in news reports on TV. Stern men board the bus at the front, grabbing the bus driver. He watches as they throw him onto the ground outside. He hides on the floor and witnesses them walking down the aisle, shooting passengers one by one, watching their bodies twitch.

...

He wakes up late, wondering why the alarm didn't wake him. Did he accidentally turn it off in his sleep? He hurries to get dressed. He knows the bus has already left, but perhaps it's been delayed. Deep down, he knows that no matter how much he runs, how fast he runs, it's already too late. He started running as soon as he woke up, but he runs anyway. When he arrives at the assembly point, it's empty and deserted. He breathes heavily and wheezes, standing against the wall for several minutes, just trying to catch his breath before doing anything else.

He stands there, hearing a distant air raid siren wailing, then another, and another. Soon, the sound becomes deafening. He wonders, "Is it Monday at 3 am?" but no, it's morning, this can't be happening. It's morning, and it's a Thursday. There shouldn't be air raid sirens now! He peers into the collection office, where all the bureaucrats have gathered around the wall-mounted TVs with their coffee cups, absentmindedly watching a news anchor's solemn face. He stands outside in the cold, pressing his face against the glass, feeling the dirt on the unwashed window against his skin, tiny grains of gravel and salt against his lips.

In awe, he watches contrails create spiderwebs in the sky. Other wispy clouds form from them and descend towards the ground.

...

He wakes up with a start, long before the alarm is set to go off, and it's still dark. A faintly glowing mist hovers over the kitchen corner, but he doesn't dwell on it. With a sense of impending unease, he gets dressed and ventures out into the early morning. putting the cylinder in his pocket. He absentmindedly rubs his chest where the cylinder has left an imprint from falling asleep on it. When he steps out into the night, it's dark and cold.

Halfway to the gathering point, he reaches into his pockets. His fingers are slightly stiff from the morning chill, and the air feels a bit colder and damper than usual, signaling that rain is on the way. To his surprise, he finds bills in his pocket. Unexpectedly, he looks at them, and they appear entirely genuine and new. All the bills are in sequential order. It's a substantial amount of money. He gazes at them in wonder on the final stretch to the gathering point, then carefully puts them back into his pocket.

To his surprise, he's not alone there. Linn is also at the gathering point. She stands huddled in a corner, staring down at the gutter, wearing too little clothing for the weather. She seems as cold as he is. Pontus approaches her cautiously.

"Hey," he says softly.

Linn responds slowly to Pontus' greeting, deeply lost in her own thoughts. She lifts her gaze from the gutter, looking at Pontus with a mix of surprise and tired attention. "Hello," she replies guardedly, her voice muffled by the cold and fatigue. "You're here early too."

Pontus nods in response and moves closer to her. "Yeah, I just woke up and couldn't sit still. What are you doing here?"

Linn shrugs and wraps her arms around herself to keep warm. "I couldn't sleep either. It feels like something is happening, something strange."

Both fall into a moment of silence, gazing out at the empty gathering point. The rain starts to fall slowly, the drops pattering against the worn asphalt. Their shared presence offers some comfort in the early morning chill and the growing unease in the air.

Pontus knows that they both have very limited money, and his upcoming question will probably sound strange. They don't really know each other, even though they've seen each other every day. He's admired Linn from a distance for a while, finding her cute in an interesting way. Hesitating, he attempts to ask,

"Linn, you know, I pass by a bakery every morning, and today is my birthday. (He's lying; it's not his birthday at all.) Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee and a birthday morning bun? We're way too early anyway, and it's warm and cozy there."

Linn is taken aback by Pontus' request but hesitates for a moment. However, it appears as though her face softens somewhat. After a brief pause, she responds,

"Sure, happy birthday. Coffee sounds fantastic. Thank you for the invitation."

Pontus smiles gently, and he leads the way to the bakery. They walk together, and he feels happy, the excitement of it all, having coffee with an interesting girl. The rain falls more intensively, but their shared steps toward a warm place feel like a comfort.

At the bakery, Pontus pays for two coffees, two morning buns, and two cinnamon buns. He's quite hungry now and hopes that Linn feels the same.

"Linn, do you want cheese and cucumber or ham and salad?"

"Cheese," she replies.

He pays discreetly so that Linn doesn't notice that it's a rather high denomination bill. The cashier eyes the bill suspiciously, but it scans okay.

"Also, a cinnamon bun?" Linn thanks Pontus for his generosity. They take their trays with coffee and freshly baked buns and find a table in the bakery. While they sit down, Linn contemplates the unusually new and crisp bill he used to pay. Curiously, she asks,

"Where did you get this bill? It looks almost unused."

Pontus smiles gently and answers,

"It just appeared in my pocket this morning. A real surprise. You know, it almost feels like it's my lucky day today."

Linn chuckles softly and says,

"Yes, it was indeed a great start to the day. Sometimes, you need such surprises." She finds his explanation not entirely convincing but decides to let it be his secret if he doesn't want to share.

They start to enjoy their morning sandwiches and coffee while the rain patters heavily on the window. They relish each other's company, basking in the warmth and the feeling of their clothes drying.

Pontus looks at Linn cautiously. He finds it hard to look people in the face, usually ending up gazing at their chins. But Linn's green eyes are so beautiful and lively as she eats her sandwich. He sees that she becomes embarrassed when he stares at her a bit too long, and he becomes embarrassed too. He feels like she's about to say something.

Linn, blushing slightly, smiles gently and says,

"This is the nicest morning I've had in a while."

Pontus feels more at ease and smiling, he replies,

"I wanted to treat you, Linn. I rarely invite anyone. I'm glad you said yes." (I rarely can afford it either).

Linn giggles; she finds him a bit dramatic but cute.

A comfortable silence settles between them as they continue to enjoy their sandwiches. The rain outside seems to make the atmosphere even cozier and more relaxed.

Pontus senses his mind crackle, and he says things he's been wanting to say.

"Linn, every morning we meet, I only look for you. I wish we could meet every day and be together, go on dates, because I find you cute, and I want to get to know you." Pontus feels like maybe he's ruined everything now, scared her away. He anxiously watches her reaction as if there's a hurry, as if they must decide to become a team before it's too late.

Linn looks at Pontus in surprise, her cheeks even redder. She smiles gently and responds as if she understands his seriousness,

"I've actually thought the same, Pontus. Every morning, I look for you too, and I'd like to get to know you better. I want to meet you, not just in the morning, but anytime you want."

It takes a moment for him to realize what Linn is actually saying, that she wants to meet?

"Do you want to meet tonight?" he asks, surprised.

"Of course, I do," she says shyly, looking at him with a smile from under her bangs.

Pontus feels a sense of relief spreading within him, and his smile widens even further.

"How exciting," is all he can think to say.

He reaches for her hands under the table, and to his surprise, they're already waiting for him.

Their hands meet under the table, and an electric feeling of anticipation and tenderness spreads between them. They continue talking and laughing, and the rainy morning suddenly becomes much brighter and warmer. Something special has begun between Pontus and Linn, something beyond the early morning meetings at the gathering point.

It's almost time to head back to the gathering point. Pontus stands up to quickly go to the bathroom. When he's almost at the bathroom door, he feels himself pressed against the wall. It's not exactly a sound, but a pressure on his ears. Afterward, he's just dazed and tries to orient himself. Everything is eerily quiet. He can hear his own voice as a distant echo in his head. His face is covered in dust, and he wipes it away, blinks, and cries when the dust gets in his eyes. There's dust everywhere. He finds Linn half-sprawled against a wall. Red liquid lies like warm pools in the folds of her jacket. He becomes sticky and gooey when he touches her. Or maybe he was already sticky. It runs from his elbow down his arm, making everything wet and sticky that it touches. Linn looks so pale; she appears even paler than copy paper, and the red liquid is so red against her skin, against her clothes. Linn says something, but he doesn't hear, doesn't understand.

He reads her lips. It looks like she's saying,

"Don't leave me." He feels dizzy, leans over her, falls over her, trying to catch her.

The white mist comes toward him, and he hears the rhythmic, sweet music singing to him. He feels the wind whistling over his chest, around his arms as he flies through the mist.

Golden confetti dances around him, promising liberation. He hears Shekl speaking, whispering soothingly and comforting, "It's not for us. Everything we desire will be taken from us, leaving only longing."

Regenerate

"Am I dead?"

"Perhaps," Shekl replies. Pontus looks at Shekl, who has taken on Linn's body. They are in a room, although it's not certain if it's a room; there are no clear walls or ceilings, everything is white and semi-translucent. "You liked her, didn't you?" Shekl explains. "But you're not her," Pontus protests. "Indeed, I am, down to the smallest detail. Every texture and hardness is Linn. You are also you." She demonstrates by separating Pontus' leg and splitting it lengthwise, showing his bones and muscles, then reattaches the leg. "I am also Linn," she says as she removes her torso, dividing herself into 10 mm slices to reveal her beating heart. "I've never seen Linn's heart, so that proves nothing," Pontus protests. "You have seen her heart; you might just not remember it," says Shekl/Linn as she reassembles herself. "Do you find it strange that we're lying here together?" she asks him.

"It's strange," Pontus admitted, while simultaneously feeling calm and strangely detached, as if he wasn't really here, here but also somewhere else. He saw himself gently caressing Linn's beautiful naked back. How she moves closer to him and bask in his proximity.

"Let's grow together," she whispers in his ear. "You can grow with me, and I can grow from you."

When she embraces him, he's not sure if she's going to hurt him or do something gentle, but he accepts it, holding her gently. He feels it getting tighter around them. The space around them shrinks.

He shivers, wondering what she's doing, feeling her hands, her hair, against his body.

"You can move," she urges, and he does, so does she.

Afterward, she explains, "There's no possible world where both you and her exist in the future. I see another world that's good for you, and I've chosen it for us."

...

He wakes up with a start, and it's still dark. A faintly glowing mist hovers over the kitchen corner, but he doesn't dwell on it. He quickly gets dressed, putting the cylinder in his pocket. He absentmindedly rubs his chest where the cylinder has left an imprint from falling asleep on it. When he steps out into the night, it's dark and cold. He has a sense of purpose, albeit unclear, and he walks briskly along the street, down a narrow staircase between two buildings he's never seen before. This is the neighborhood of the wealthy. Suddenly, he notices a white envelope lying on the ground. He picks it up and finds a stack of crisp, fresh bills inside. He's astounded as he examines them, noticing that all the bills have serial numbers in ascending order. It's quite unusual; he's never seen such new bills before. He hasn't seen paper money in a long time, if it's even still in use. Everything else on the envelope is completely anonymous. He thinks of the wonderful bakery he usually passes by. Where is he? He pulls up the map on his phone. The app is as sluggish as always, but he finds the bakery almost as quickly as he did with the map. He goes in and buys a fragrant loaf of bread and two of each pastry. He doesn't know why, but he does it. He feels joy pounding in his chest and his glasses fog up from happiness. He wipes them, but the fog remains in the corner of his eye. He heads toward the gathering place. Surely, no one is there yet. Today, he's early and brought plenty for lunch, he thinks smugly. He spots Linn from a distance, shivering. Is Linn always this early? He walks up to her and is surprised to see her delighted to see him. "You're early," he says. "I know," she replies miserably. He has an idea. "Come on, join me. We'll take a subway ride." She shakes her head slowly. "Come on," he insists, "I'll treat you to some coffee, and it's warm down there. I'll get the tickets." She follows him skeptically, and they head to the nearby subway station. It's not really expensive, but it's a luxury when you don't have money.

They sit together on the blue line, enjoying cinnamon rolls when suddenly everything goes dark. The train slows down with a screeching sound, and small yellow lights in the ceiling come on. Then, not much happens for a long while. For some reason, they don't feel surprised. They continue to eat calmly. Linn points out that the blue line is the one that goes deepest into the bedrock; it's good to know, she says.

Pontus notices that Linn is not as comfortable as he is sitting in the stationary train. "Do you want to hear a funny story?" he tries to joke. Linn glares at him angrily. "Well, maybe not," he mutters. "Do you want to hear a boring story," he tries instead, thinking that's much funnier. "You don't really know me, do you!" Linn snaps, "You don't know what a panic attack is, do you?" Pontus feels embarrassed; this is not how he imagined their interaction. He thought they would become a team in some magical way, understanding each other and becoming better together.

He falls silent and refrains from saying anything else. Linn still looks worried, and he feels helpless.

After a while, Linn takes deep breaths to calm herself. She turns to Pontus and says in a calmer tone, "I'm sorry if I reacted that way. It's just... I've had difficult experiences with panic attacks, and it's hard to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it."

Pontus keeps his thoughts to himself, realizing that Linn assumes he knows nothing about panic attacks. He doesn't feel like explaining that she might be mistaken, that he's been told he has them, even though he personally believes it's not true. It's just that he gets a little angry sometimes. 

Pontus nods in understanding. "No need to apologize. I should have thought about it before I started talking about jokes and boring stories."

Linn smiles faintly and says, "Thank you for understanding. I really hope we get out of this soon."

They continue to sit in the darkness, quiet and tense. Time passes slowly as they wait to learn more about the situation. They hear the sound of someone opening the door between the train cars, and another passenger squeezes in.

The man entering looks as confused as the two of them. "Do you know what's happening?" he asks.

Pontus shrugs. "Unfortunately, we are as clueless as you. The train has stopped, and none of us know why."

Pontus decides to show Linn the discovery he made yesterday to both calm her nerves and have something to discuss. "Look, I found this yesterday," he shares. "It's actually quite a strange story." Immediately, Linn becomes interested. "It's so cute with its pointed ears," she says, accepting it gently from his hands. He's surprised and looks at her. It has nothing resembling ears; it's a smooth, cylindrical shape, thicker in the middle and tapering towards the ends, slightly bulging. "What a lovely glaze," Linn continues. "I like the intense blue-turquoise color. What is the figure holding in its hands?" He looks bewildered at her hands, wondering if they're looking at the same thing. She looks happier now. She carefully hands it back to him, and he senses that it feels warmer now. With amazement, he tucks it into the inner pocket of his jacket. The train isn't going anywhere. They sit across from each other, the air is warm and dry, and he feels himself dozing off. The last thing he remembers is Linn's broad smile.

Pontus wakes from a brief nap as the train comes to a stop at their station. He looks up at Linn, always immaculate with her daisy braids and steel-framed glasses. He leans down to pick up his briefcase, then stands and straightens his trousers, making sure the creases are still in place. Linn scoffs annoyed at his fussiness.

In this version, Linn is not Linn: When he looks closer, he realizes that it's not Linn after all. Why did he think it was her? It must have been a dream or a fantasy. It's just one of the cadets from the female youth division who also takes this route to her assigned training location.