Transmission 004 // “Casserole”
Sycamore Lane stood still in the hush of early evening, the sky above deepening into soft bruises of twilight. The street was empty. Light spilled through curtained windows, bleeding gently into the dark. Autumn pressed in close, threading woodsmoke and damp moss through the cool air. The trees that lined the road were already beginning to surrender to the season, baring themselves branch by branch, slowly offering up their secrets.
The only sound was Amelia’s footsteps on the sidewalk. A breeze stirred a handful of fallen leaves, sending them skittering like startled crabs—a kaleidoscope of gold, orange, and red tangling with the dull browns of decay. Amelia’s thoughts moved in the same way. Brittle and restless, tumbling over each other.
Raymond’s words turned in her mind like a signpost in a storm.
Every piece has a purpose. Every sacrifice holds meaning.
He made it sound simple. A matter of strategy—not luck. As if everything was just a game that could be mapped out in advance, split into neat little segments.
Opening. Middle. End.
But Amelia knew life didn’t really work like that. Not hers anyway. Her board had been upended in the opening gambit. Twelve years later, she was still trying to pick up the pieces, while girls like Bryony moved like the rules of the game didn’t apply to them. A queen to Amelia’s pawn, that damned EverBand sparkling at her head and wrist—her crown and scepter.
Bryony Thorburn.
Even her name made Amelia’s palms itch. She didn't really need the insults, her vibe did all the talking. Effortless. Confident. Curated.
…And completely in control.
Amelia could handle the over-polished perfection and the self-satisfied smugness. That didn’t bother her one bit. She didn’t even mind that Bryony had seemingly been pre-approved by the universe for platinum-tier living. But the cruelty that came with it? That was different. Quiet. Surgical. She was a sniper rifle with a compliment for a silencer. Bryony hated Marv just because of where he came from. No other reason. He smiled through it. It never broke him.
But it made Amelia burn.
She blew out a breath and kept walking.
A block later, she scuffed her sneaker against the curb. Not out of boredom, or rebellion. Just to feel something solid bite back. The knot in her stomach didn’t budge an inch.
The hedges on either side fell away and the street widened, sycamore trees arching overhead.
Amelia stopped walking. Her head tilted upward. The first stars had appeared—tiny dots of light scattered across the sky. They looked still, hanging there, but Amelia knew they weren’t. She’d learned in physics that it’s only the distance that makes them seem calm. In truth, stars were restless and violent. Constant fire and fusion. Pressure and collapse.
They were burning and building at the same time.
Death and life.
Dark and light.
Opposite forces, always at war.
Like chess.
Like everything.
She looked at the glowing windows again.
She was alone here, but there were people all around.
She had exactly what she needed in this moment.
But, somewhere—deep down—she yearned for more.
She lived with a constant undertow of anger.
But, still, there was hardly a ripple on the surface.
She exhaled, long and hard.
“I get it,” she whispered to the sky. “I really do.”
The wind brushed her skin. Soft, damp and edged with salt. It felt like the breath of the sea, whispering up from the bay.
She closed her eyes. Drew it in deep. Then turned and walked toward her front door.
* * *
The dark blue door clicked shut behind her like an airlock. In a split second, the world outside was gone.
The smell of roasted vegetables grabbed her immediately in the hallway. It wrapped around her like a blanket. Her stomach growled. She realised she hadn’t eaten since lunch. A granola bar and half an apple—she’d picked at it, while Marv devoured half the cafeteria, like he always did.
She envied his appetite sometimes. Marv seemed convinced that the five food groups were different varieties of carbs—fries, noodles, potato chips, churros, pastries—whatever else the lunch line coughed up. He ate like hunger was something to fix. An itch to scratch. Amelia couldn’t remember a time when food had been that simple, or enjoyable. She ate when she had to. No more, no less. Somewhere along the way, want and need had tangled up with loss. And she found it easier to keep both at arms length. She ignored it as much as she could, in the hope that it would just go quiet again.
Right now though, she was ready to eat. She kicked off her shoes, dropped her bag, and let the scent pull her toward the kitchen.
Warm light pooled across the counters where Laura stood. She was chopping up salad with a quiet, practiced rhythm. She didn’t look up. Just kept going—adrift in whatever quiet, unreachable place she disappeared to when her hands were busy. The knife tapped the board in a steady rhythm. The sound scraped something at the back of Amelia’s mind.
A voice came from nowhere.
Laura, according to the recipe notes, your casserole should be ready. Shall I turn the oven off?
Amelia lingered in the doorway, watching.
“Oh—yes. Thanks, Evie,” Laura said, placing the leaves in a bowl. She sliced a lemon in half and squeezed the juice through her fingers..
The oven clicked. Then beeped. The house obeyed.
The oven has been deactivated, Laura. Residual heat will keep the food warm for approximately twelve minutes.
Laura kept moving. Tomatoes quartered. Olives drained. Cucumber sliced. She moved like someone who’d done it a thousand times. Amelia guessed that she probably had.
Would you like me to remind you before the temperature drops below serving level?
“Perfect,” Laura replied. “Although, Matthew should be home soon.”
Amelia wasn’t sure whether she was talking to Evie, or reassuring herself.
Evie answered anyway.
I’ll set a reminder. But you’re correct, Laura —
Matthew has arrived in Willowbrook. He’s traveling on foot.
Estimated arrival time: four minutes.
“Oh. Right. Good. No need for the reminder then.”
Okay, Laura. Reminder cancelled. Let me know if you need anything else.
The green light on the EverHome Hub blinked out.
The Hub was a sleek plastic box shaped like a sunflower seed. There were millions of them, sitting on countertops across the Commonwealth. Most people just called it The Seed. It could run your entire home—lights, doors, heating, appliances. Buttons and dials were a thing of the past. Now, you simply asked, and Evie took care of everything.
But Evie didn’t live in the Seed. It was just a shell. Not much more than a speaker, a microphone, and a WiFi connection.
An empty stage.
The performance happened elsewhere.
In the cloud.
Where Evie was listening. Connected, day and night. Waiting to serve.
Laura leaned on her. Matthew practically worshipped her. But Amelia kept her distance. There was something in the tone—too perfect, too eager, too calm. And always there. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but Evie gave her the creeps.
Laura set the salad bowl down and looked up.
“Oh—hi, honey. Just in time for dinner,” she said brightly, reaching for a serving spoon. “How was school?”
Amelia shrugged, leaning on the doorframe. “The usual.”
Laura nodded but didn’t press. She turned to the oven and removed a casserole that looked like it had been pulled straight from a recipe book. The steam rose up from it in slow, lazy curls.
She glanced at the clock.
“Your dad should be home any second.”
Right on cue, the front door clicked. A coat rustled. Footsteps moved down the hall.
Most weekday evenings followed the same script. Matthew clocked out at the United Commonwealth Revenue Service at six—he worked there as a Tax Consultant, though Amelia wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. He’d take the train from Uptown, then walk the last few blocks home to Willowbrook. He’d usually arrive around seven, just in time for dinner. Sometimes he was earlier. Sometimes later. But always the same routine.
He stepped into the kitchen, glasses fogged from the cold.
“Hi, girls” he said, already halfway to his chair. “How are you both?”
He sat down at the head of the table and set down his EverLink tablet. The green glow of the screen lit his glasses as he began to scroll. After a moment, he loosened his tie.
“Busy day?” Laura asked, handing him a jug of water for the table.
“Busy doesn’t touch it,” he said, eyes glancing down at his EverWatch.
“Two audits. One company didn’t even have digital compliance logs. I had to file paper receipts. Paper. Can you believe that? I had to scan them in by hand.”
Laura gave a soft nod. “Sounds… frustrating.”
“Frustrating? Yes. Very.”
His voice sharpened as he looked up.
“EverLink has made everything so much easier—for everyone—but some people still want to live in the Dark Ages.”
Amelia carried on watching from a distance.
As soon as her dad mentioned work, she noticed his tone would changed. Not louder, just sharper. More official. Like he was slipping into someone else's skin. Someone she didn’t really recognise.
“Come get some dinner, Amelia,” Laura beckoned her over to the table, pulling a chair out.
Amelia took her seat. Laura placed down some more bowls.
Casserole. Vegetables. Salad. Bread.
Amelia looked at the spread. Her stomach rumbled again as she repositioned her cutlery.
“Thanks, dear.” Matthew said, reaching for the bread. “How was your day?”
Laura smiled faintly as she poured water into his glass.
“Did some work in the garden. Reorganised the pantry. A productive day really.”
“That’s good,”
He began to chew. It didn’t stop him talking.
“You know, speaking of productivity, what Nakamura’s done with the latest update is incredible. EverLink’s new integration with our collection systems is completely seamless.”
Amelia spooned some vegetables onto her plate next to a hearty portion of the casserole.
“It’s not just the technology,” Matthew continued. “It’s a new way of thinking. Everything’s connected in a way that just works. It's all right there at our fingertips.”
Laura offered a soft hum of agreement as she hovered over the table, taking care of a few finishing touches.
Amelia bit her lip and kept her gaze on the plate. She’d heard this speech before
“And yet there are still people who resist. Clinging to their backwards ways of working. It’s maddening really. Like watching someone drown while refusing a lifeboat.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“In Uptown, people have a completely different attitude towards change,” Matthew mused. “They’re embracing the future, not fighting it. ”
Amelia’s fork hit the plate. The clink was soft, almost nothing. But she noticed Laura flinch
“Maybe it’s because they can afford to, Dad. Do you even know how much an EverBand costs? It’s not like they’re giving them away.”
Matthew didn’t blink.
“Nor should they be. EverLink isn’t charity, Amelia. It’s a business. These days, too many people are happy to rely on handouts. You know, I had to work my way up from the mailroom to get to where I am today. That’s how life works, I’m afraid. People need to take more responsibility for themselves, and then their lives might improve.”
He shifted tone.
“You’re still young. You don’t see how the world works. How much it’s improved. It’s so much better...”
She looked up. Cold.
“Better for who?”
His jaw tightened as he met her stare.
Challenge accepted.
“For everyone,” Matthew shot back. “EverLink is making things fairer for—”
“Fair?” she cut in. “What about Marv and his mom? She works harder than anyone. Double shifts at the hospital, every week. Marv barely sees her, but they’re still stuck in Old Town. They can’t move. She can’t even afford a car, so he takes three buses every day just to get to school. How’s that fair?”
“That’s different. I agree with you, nurses should be paid more, considering the important work they do. But nursing, well… it’s more of a calling than a career. I’m sure Miriam doesn’t do it just for the money.”
“So, because she wants to help people, you’re saying she can’t earn a decent wage?”
“That’s not what I said at all.” Matthew waved a hand dismissively in her direction. “Please, don’t twist my words, Amelia. All I’m saying is that people end up where they are because of the choices they make. It’s not always fair, but life rarely is. You get what you earn.”
Amelia snorted a hollow laugh.
“Fairness isn’t a beta upgrade, Dad. Either everyone gets it… or it doesn’t exist.”
Matthew opened his mouth, then closed it again. He exhaled hard and shook his head slowly, wearing the tired look of someone trying to be patient with a child.
“Amelia, you have to be realistic. The world’s not perfect. It never has been. But we’ve come a long way since the Black Fall. Things are a lot better now. Safer. There’s more stability. Thanks to EverLink, we’ve got more technology, more convenience, more opportunity than ever before.”
“Yeah, and there’s no possible downside to outsourcing our entire lives to a company that only exists to make a profit. What could possibly go wrong?”
The sarcasm came out sharp. Sharper than she’d intended.
Matthew bristled.
Laura reached out and placed a hand on his arm.
“Let’s not argue,” she said gently. “It’s been a long day. For all of us.”
He brushed her hand away.
“Amelia, you need to understand that EverLink isn’t just smart hubs and social media. It’s infrastructure. It’s the glue that’s holding this country together. Without it, we’d have nothing. Transport, banking, healthcare—it all runs through EverLink now. If it weren’t for Nakamura, we’d be bartering in the streets and rationing supplies. People would be waiting hours—days even—for basic healthcare.”
“Like the people outside the city, you mean? The people we locked out.”
Matthew pressed his palms flat, his shoulders tensing.
“Look, you’re too young to remember what it was like after the Black Fall. I do. People were looting shops in broad daylight. We were days away from martial law. Order doesn’t maintain itself, Amelia. Without the city borders, we’d have been—”
“What?” she snapped. “Swallowed up? Overrun? By families with nowhere to live? Kids who have nothing? People who are beyond desperate?”
Laura stood. She quietly began gathering the empty glasses.
“Desperation isn’t an excuse for lawlessness,” Matthew scoffed. “The city borders are protecting our homes, our jobs, our safety. Without them, Greenhaven would be chaos. Just like Seraluna and Meridia. Our neighborhood would be flooded with criminals and vagrants.”
Amelia’s hands clenched beneath the table.
“They’re not vagrants, Dad. They’re people.”
Her voice stayed low and steady. Her eyes didn’t leave his as she continued.
“People who lost everything. Maybe they’re desperate because no one’s helping them.”
But Matthew didn’t seem to hear. He was in full stride now.
“You may not like the idea of the city passport system, but it’s necessary. After the Black Fall, President Marshall hesitated, and we nearly paid the price. But Marcus Thorne made him see sense. He wasn’t afraid to make the hard choices to protect the Commonwealth.”
He tapped the butt of his knife on the table.
“That… is what good leadership looks like, Amelia. And it’s the only reason we’re still here.”
Her voice cracked, but she didn’t look away.
“And, if things are so great—if Marcus Thorne is so brilliant—then why are so many people homeless out there? Why is Old Town falling apart? Why can’t Marv go to school without being bullied about where he lives? Is that all down to good leadership?”
Amelia raised both hands in a frustrated shrug.
Laura reached out and gently put a hand on her shoulder.
“That’s enough now,” she said, with the quiet authority of someone trying to defuse a bomb. “Just… stop. Both of you.”
She shot Matthew a sharp glance. He leaned back, arms folded, face closed.
“You’ll understand when you’re older,” he muttered.
Amelia stared down at her plate, stabbed a piece of casserole, and chewed like it had wronged her in another life.
The house held its breath.
The cheerful chime of the doorbell broke the silence, releasing the tension from the room like steam from a kettle. Matthew glanced at his wrist, glad of the distraction.
“Evie, who’s at the door?”
His EverWatch lit up and Evie replied.
It’s one of your approved visitors: Marv Dumile. Shall I let him in?
He looked at Amelia through narrowed eyes.
“It’s Marv.”
“Yeah. I heard” she said, already standing. “ We’ve got a study session.”
Matthew raised his wrist again. “Amelia is on the way, Evie.”
Thank you, Matthew. I’ll ask Marv Dumile to stand by.
Amelia moved quickly. The air in the hallway loosened the tightness in her ribs and cooled her skin. She clicked the handle down and pulled the door wide.
Marv stood there, backpack slung low, one hand buried in his coat. His smile was easy. His eyes flickered with concern, like he’d read her frustration through the door.
“Hey you,” he said. Calm and steady.
“Hey.” She stepped aside and ushered him in. The door clicked behind him.
“Good timing. You just saved me from a total meltdown.”
Marv raised an eyebrow. “Happy to be of service. Honestly, I figured something was up when Evie started side-eying me at the door.”
“She’s very particular about who we let in, you know.”
Amelia smiled.
“Noted. High standards.” He mimed pulling a pen from his jacket, blew on the invisible nib with exaggerated care, and scribbled a note in the air. “Next time, I’ll bring flowers.”
“She prefers seeds, I think.”
He chuckled, slinging his backpack off one shoulder. “You’re sharp tonight, Swanson. Bravo.”
Amelia smirked. Briefly. Then it passed.
“My Dad’s on his soapbox again,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Let me guess…Politics? EverLink? Climate migrants?”
“All of the above. I swear, he gets all of his opinions from that tablet. If it told him to jump off a cliff, he would.”
Marv’s eyes danced with mischief.
“Yeah. But first, he’d probably make a spreadsheet to map out the optimal jump velocity and fall trajectory.”
Amelia let out a mini-snort. The kind that only surfaced when Marv found a crack in her amour. He grinned, obviously pleased with himself.
Laura appeared from the kitchen, tea towel over one shoulder. “Hi, Marv. You eaten? There’s some sweet potato casserole left.”
Marv half-raised a hand. “Thanks, Mrs. Swanson. Already stuffed. My Mom fed me to the point of combustion before I left.”
“We need to study,” Amelia snapped.
Laura just smiled, gave a small nod, and walked back to the kitchen.
They climbed the stairs without another word.
The bedroom door closed behind them. Marv flung his bag down on the floor and dropped into the desk chair, spinning from left-to-right.
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled, like her lungs were just remembering how.
