Transmission 012 // "Amazing Grace”
As Amelia left the house, she bent to tie her sneakers. Her gaze lifted, catching herself in the mirror.
The face in the glass was hers. The jaw, the cheekbones, the lines she had lived in all her life. But now she saw something else. Her mother surfaced first: hazel-grey eyes, sharp as flint, carrying that quiet defiance she remembered only in fragments. Eyes that demanded the truth, even when it hurt. And there, lower, at the corner of her mouth—the faintest dent—her father’s gift. A single dimple that appeared so rarely she had almost forgotten it existed.
She pulled in a steadying breath and held them close. She could feel them. They were still here. Not just in memory, but in her. With her.
The thought sharpened her resolve.
Whatever secrets Richard Helpmann was guarding, she would tear them from the shadows.
It was time to bring everything to the light.
For her mother, Evelyn.
For her father, Benjamin.
For herself…
Amelia Lockwood.
The girl in the mirror.
* * *
The platform at Willowbrook Station smelled faintly of rain and engine oil. Morning lessons had long since begun, and the rush-hour tide had ebbed away. A few commuters lingered with paper cups and tired eyes, the clatter of a vending machine marking time between trains.
Marv was already waiting on the platform, hood up, one foot tracing lazy circles on the concrete. He held up a folded slip of school letterhead with a flourish.
“Behold—my masterpiece.” He grinned. “Scholarship funding review meeting. And mom’s doing a double shift at work today, so you’re down as my plus one. The office is in Uptown, so if anyone looks at our EverPass logs, it won’t look weird that we tapped in there.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “You think the school might check?”
“It’s not the school I’m worried about.” He smiled faintly. “I can handle them. My mom’s the real problem. She doesn’t miss a thing. I still got up at five, did the three buses, made it look like a normal day, even though I could have slept in. She’d have known something was off the second I woke up.”
Marv glanced down the line as the rails began to hum.
A moment later, the train appeared, silver and silent, gliding through the drizzle like a held breath. The doors slid open. They stepped inside and found a pair of seats. The station fell away behind them, rooftops shrinking into haze. Neither of them spoke. Ahead, Uptown waited.
* * *
When they stepped off the train, Greenhaven Central station was bustling, but not in the way Amelia and Marv were used to. There was no shouting. No shoving. No tramps lingering near the station doors, begging for change, waiting for the next soup kitchen to open.
Uptown had rules against that.
Matthew spoke of them often, with something close to pride. He never missed a chance to remind them that the streets were safer, cleaner, and quieter on his daily commute. The Urban Regeneration Act, he said, had been a revelation. In Uptown, at least, overpopulation was no longer a problem. The homelessness crisis had been solved. Amelia wasn’t sure what that meant.
People drifted through the station’s main concourse with an eerie precision, gliding onto escalators, arranging themselves into neat lines along platforms. The floors under their feet gleamed like mirrors, untouched by the litter and grime that clung to the underbelly of Old Town’s stations like barnacles on a boat.
A swell of soft strings floated through the air—calming classical music. Evie’s voice wove through it, guiding commuters to their platforms with gentle certainty. The faint sting of citrus cleaner caught in Amelia’s nose, a palette cleanser after the heady blend of engine oil, burnt pretzels, and stale coffee they left behind in Old Town.
Marv turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. “Woah. What kind of station is this?” he said, mouth open wide. “It’s like we’ve walked into a sci-fi movie.”
Amelia hitched her bag higher. “You’re just used to Old Town’s idea of public transport, that’s all.”
“I mean, I knew it’d be different,” he said, still staring. “But this is awesome.”
Everywhere they looked, digital signs looped in perfect harmony. At every platform, a sleek electric train waited silently, their curved noses gleaming in the artificial light. The air thrummed with expectation, as passengers boarded their carriages and people said their goodbyes.
They drifted past the departures board and into a large, open atrium. A giant billboard filled the entire wall, shifting with green and black patterns. The EverLink logo bloomed across its surface, as Evie’s voice boomed promises of seamless connection and unlimited potential, from speakers hidden somewhere nearby.
Marv slowed, head tilting back, hand running through his hair, as he stared upward. “Okay,” he murmured. “Now this… this is very cool. I wonder how many pixels it—”
Amelia grabbed him firmly by the scruff of his hoodie, and pulled hard. “Come on, Marv. We’ll be late.”
They exited the station. On the street, a collection of signs pointed toward Uptown’s main districts. Amelia read them aloud.
“The Galleria. Tech Quarter. Civic Square. Crestview Rise.”
Marv smiled. “Crestview? We should definitely check that out while we're here. That’s where the real high rollers live. Government officials, celebrities, CEOs. And, of course, the sports stars...” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock admiration. “The Pioneers’ star Quarterback. Point Guards for the Cascades. Gotta keep the gladiators close to the colosseum, right?”
“I figured the only gladiators you’d know about would be pixelated?”
“Hey,” Marv shot back, “I might not be a jock, but I’d be number-one pick in the useless trivia draft.”
Amelia rolled her eyes.
As people passed by, Amelia noticed that EverBands were everywhere in Uptown. At Willowbrook High, Bryony had the only one. Here, they seemed to be standard issue. Sleek bracelets glinted on wrists all around her, catching the light as commuters gestured in mid-air, manipulating invisible interfaces with effortless precision.
One man in a tailored suit caught her eye. He had the upgrade—dual EverBands, one on each wrist. His fingers on both hands moved in mid-air, like a conductor guiding an unseen symphony. It made her skin crawl. Two grey bands. One on each wrist. For a split second, they almost looked like handcuffs.
She knew that EverBands projected a digital layer over the world, stitching pixels seamlessly into everyday life. But, if augmented reality was just an illusion, then what about the world underneath? This place. Uptown. This perfect, polished paradise—was it any more real? Any less augmented? Or was it just another projection, designed to feel convenient, safe, and comforting?
Marv broke her train of thought. “Two bands? What a show-off.”
Amelia smirked faintly but didn’t reply.
They carried on, and soon found themselves at the edge of The Cascadium, Uptown’s main retail square.
“Bring on Hiroshi Nakamura,” Marv declared, practically vibrating with excitement, as they wove through the crowds, sidestepping countless shopping bags swinging at their knees.
“Don’t forget, Marv. We’re here for Helpmann,” Amelia said, yanking him back to the mission.
He smirked, unfazed. “Hey, if we can get the truth from Helpmann and I meet my hero in the process, I’d call that a successful day.”
“Okay. Just don’t get distracted.”
“No promises,” Marv replied absentmindedly, his gaze already drifting sideways. He watched a squat, beetle-shaped LitterBot trundle across the square, chrome pincers snatching a stray wrapper before it even touched the ground. A green light blinked on what was nominally its face, before it scurried away, vanishing between the polished shoes of Uptown commuters.
After the next corner, the Grand Central Library came into view. Despite her best efforts to remain indifferent, it made Amelia’s breath catch in her ribs.
Thick steel towers climbed skyward, and giant panes of glass angled out from the body, stacked and twisted like a colossal deck of cards mid-shuffle. Every surface seemed to catch the light, making the whole building shimmer like an enormous crystalline chameleon.
The plaza at its feet was sculpted to perfection. Rows of manicured greenery cut into geometric shapes. Fountains arced water with algorithmic precision. Commuters and tourists wound down the wide concourse like ants crawling along a rope—small against the spectacle, dwarfed by the design.
They navigated the plaza together and climbed the wide marble steps carved beneath the library’s entrance. Marv skipped straight inside. Amelia hesitated at the threshold. She thought about how far they’d come to stand here, and how little she knew of what waited inside. Behind her, the plaza felt suddenly distant. Ahead, the air felt cool but inviting.
She drew a breath and stepped forward.
Inside the glass walls, the library’s atrium seemed impossibly high. Shelves stretched as far as the eye could see, displaying the pristine spines of countless books. They looked outward in perfect lines, like they had never moved since the day they arrived. There was no scent of worn paper, no damp in the walls, or squeaky cart wheels. It was modern, sleek and minimalist—everything in its proper place and nothing that didn’t belong. In truth, it felt more like an art gallery than a library. An exhibit. A space to be admired rather than explored.
Marv let out a low whistle. “Fancy.” His voice echoed softly, a mix of awe and admiration. “What do you think Raymond would make of this?”
“Oh, he’d hate it. With a passion,” Amelia replied, a smirk tugging at her lips despite her best efforts. She could see it clearly: Raymond stepping inside, curiosity curdling immediately into deep disapproval. He’d stand dead center, in the middle of the atrium, arms folded, surveying the spotless floors and curated shelves, weighing up which of them insulted his principles the most.
Amelia straightened and dropped her voice into a deep rumble. “A library should be a sanctuary for knowledge, not a monument to man’s unquenchable vanity.”
“Nailed it!” Marv snorted, wiping an imaginary tear from the edge of his eye.
It was nearly time for the event to begin, so they followed the crowd deeper into the main hall. Security guards in crisp white uniforms stood at intervals, steering the flow into a forest of chrome posts, strung with taut belts of red nylon. At the end of the maze waited a row of digital ticket scanners—the gateway to the auditorium. Evie’s voice chirped from each machine, as she read EverPass details and checked them against her central database.
They joined the nearest line. With every step forward, Amelia felt her shoulders pull tighter, her heart keeping time with the steady shuffle of the line. She leaned toward Marv.
“Are you sure these IDs will work?” Her voice was a thin whisper, stripped to the bone so nobody could overhear. Marv didn’t look the least bit concerned.
“Relax, Ames,” he waved a hand, flashing the kind of casual grin that almost put her at ease. “These IDs are twenty-four karat—completely flawless. Polished to perfection by a master craftsman. Think about it, Ames, when have I ever let you down?”
“Well, there was that time you ‘upgraded’ my laptop and, for a month, it wouldn’t stop narrating everything I typed in an angry pirate voice.”
“That was different. That was art.”
The person in front of Marv took a few steps forward. He was next. Tablet in hand, he moved up to the device, a quiet smugness in his stance—confidence unicycling on the edge of arrogance. The scanner hovered over his screen, a soft red glow spread across the surface. Then, a flash of green, followed by Evie’s voice:
Welcome, Kevin Harris.
The guard didn’t look at him, just extended an arm to invite him through. Marv strolled into the body scanner without hesitation. The machine hummed. Another green light.
He turned back and flashed her a grin.
Told you so.
But Amelia wasn’t reassured.
She stepped forward, phone in her grip, fingers clamped so tight they ached. Her heart fluttered, her palms were slick with sweat.
Across from her, the next person passed through. Their line kept moving.
She raised her phone beneath the scanner.
The red light hovered, drifting slowly over its surface.
Nothing happened.
Her pulse thudded, deep and heavy—in her feet, in her throat, in her ears.
The red light continued to hover.
Then—
Green.
Welcome, Grace Carter.
Relief flooded Amelia’s chest. She kept her face as straight as she could, and stepped past the guard. As she left the body scanner, Marv ambled over.
“Told you, Grace,” he said with a knowing wink.
“Never doubted you, Kevin,” she hissed, at the edge of a long exhale. “Now let’s move.”
Marv gave a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Then, under his breath, he started to hum.
Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound…
Amelia cut him a warning glance.
“Don’t even.”
He grinned. “Just setting the mood.”
They merged into the steady stream of visitors ascending toward the auditorium, their borrowed identities dissolving into the crowd. In the upper tier, they found their seats and settled in. Amelia scanned the room, taking in the curved sweep of the auditorium as it filled—every seat taken. A full house.
The stage remained empty. But the air was anything but still. The room carried the low hum of a rainforest—a living canopy, dense with breath and heat and hunger. And this menagerie had migrated from far and wide, not just for an event, but because they’d felt it on the wind—a monsoon was coming. And they wanted to see it break land.
Amelia tugged at her sleeve. Small, restless movements that her body couldn’t contain. The arched walls, the vaulted ceiling, the polished stage, even the low murmur of the crowd—all of it pressed inward, folding around her like a weight. A reminder that this was not her world, and these were not her people.
She glanced over at Marv. He was sprawled across his chair as if he’d been born in it, one leg slung over the other, arms draped across the rests. He looked calm and composed, but Amelia knew better. Confidence and wisecracks were his last line of defense. For Marv, wearing a mask was easier than showing how he really felt. She understood… because they had that in common.
Mask or not, at least one of them looked like they belonged.
She leaned over. “So, Nakamura… is he really worth all this?”
Marv’s smirk softened. “Oh, absolutely, Ames. He’s next level. Hiroshi is like the final boss of the tech industry. He’s not just selling gadgets, he’s rewriting how people connect with each other—how they experience the world. You’ll see. What he’s got in store will completely blow your mind.”
Amelia arched a brow. “Sounds like you’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid.”
Marv chuckled, sinking deeper into his chair. “Maybe a little. But trust me—you might not like this place, but Nakamura? He’s the real deal.”
Amelia scanned the crowd again. A sea of faces lined up in anticipation. She wasn’t sure she believed him. But, she had to admit, Marv’s excitement was contagious.
“We’ll see,” she murmured, settling into her seat with a sideways smile.
Around them, the room continued to hold its breath.
