The connecting corridor of the Gray Zone was always crowded.

  The vibration-free rush of maglev motorcycles, people who never sounded their warning signals, crowds who never made eye contact.

  Elion walked along the narrow walkway. His shoulders brushed against smooth collars, his feet wavered on the frictionless metal plates of the floor.

  People lined up to board the tram.

  The tram that stopped at precisely constant speed, inside which no one spoke.

  No one raised their head, no one closed their eyes.

  They were all believers in their own perfection under the Light. Yet Elion felt alien among them.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  They had only ever lived under perfect light. They knew nothing. Neither the depth created by light, nor shadows, nor contrasts.

  Their lives were like a single sheet of white paper. Unmarked, merely bright. He repeated to himself.

  This city has no darkness.

  That's why no one knows what true 'Light' is.

  A motorcycle passed by him. The wind stirred his coat, and a child in the back seat was smiling radiantly.

  That smile, too, was born within the light. Elion quietly closed his eyes.

  He had to show them.

  That darkness isn't necessarily always something to fear.

  And that their current light was how narrow and prejudiced it truly was.

  His resolve was quiet.

  But, unyielding. In that moment he knew.

  Darkness would visit this city for the first time.

  And it would be not an end, but a beginning.