The will of the few

The will of the few

Albert Zinkevich

© Albert Zinkevich, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0065-6510-4

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Prologue: Shadows of the Past

Fog. Mornings in Novoteria always began with this oppressive shroud, a mantle that draped itself over the city, shielding it from the silent brutality of reality. Thick and impenetrable, the fog clung to the streets as if trying to conceal the horrors and devastation left behind by a world once brimming with life and light. Once, cities had glittered with vibrant energy, but now they lay submerged in a dim twilight. Their streets were lit by flickering lamps, which sputtered like dying stars, casting grim shadows over the thoughts of those who passed beneath them. People hurried along the asphalt, their eyes downcast. Their faces, devoid of expression, resembled masks of extreme indifference. They asked no questions, sought no answers to the anxieties that gnawed at them. They no longer remembered what freedom felt like.

These dark times were the result of a cataclysm that had irrevocably altered the landscape, not only of Novoteria but of the entire continent. Legends of cities engulfed in flames, of volcanoes erupting from the depths of the earth, intertwined with the harsh reality of what had transpired. The Chaotic Era had begun – a time of upheaval when ideals crumbled and society fractured. People lost hope in the madness, and the explosion of possibilities turned into disaster. The cities they had once dreamed of building vanished. Vast expanses were reduced to ruins, and only small groups of survivors managed to endure, forming the isolated state of Novoteria.

And then came the Council.

The Council of Observers, created to maintain order in Novoteria, acted swiftly and ruthlessly. They demolished the ruins, paved the land with concrete, and erased every page that might have told the story of the past. Those who could still hear, read, or remember disappeared into the depths of secrecy. But the shadows of the past could not be entirely destroyed. They lingered in the corners of memory, in the whispers of the wind, in the dreams of those who still dared to yearn for freedom.

In this new order, proclaimed by the Council of Observers, harsh laws reigned. Every old tradition and ideal was consigned to oblivion. Society was divided into castes – some served, others ruled, while the overwhelming majority remained silent, each carrying the scars of the past and the weight of what it meant to exist. The clash between the old and the new gave rise to resistance – a movement of people striving to reclaim what had been lost, fighters for freedom who faced relentless terror. Unseen in their actions, they used whispers and secret gatherings to spread their ideas.

Somewhere in the depths of the abandoned districts, among the remnants of old buildings, fragments of the past endured. Shards of glass, rusted metal frames, scraps of paper with barely legible words. These words, once powerful enough to alter the course of lives, now sat on the shelves of oblivion, symbols of courage and hope weakened by the blows of a bitter reality.

One such forgotten voice was that of Arkady Renn, a young scholar whose words had once captured the spirit of the age. It was there, in one of those ruins, that he had penned his final lines. His name had been erased from history, his works destroyed, but the shadow of his ideas still lingered in the air like a restless ghost.

«Man is not a cog in the machine,» he had written. «He is a creator, a maker, a source of light in a world of darkness. But that light fades when it is locked in a cage of fear and obedience.» These words resonated deeply with those who still remembered what hope felt like, but they were brutally suppressed.

Over time, these ideas found their way into the hands of a young boy who stumbled upon them among the debris. He saw them as a riddle, not fully grasping their meaning, but his soul responded to the undercurrent of anxiety and hope they carried. He brought the scrap of paper to his father, who paled as if seeing a ghost from a bygone era and immediately threw it into the fire. But it was too late – the words had already begun to spread like a virus, eating away at the foundations of the new world.

Now, decades later, Novoteria appeared peaceful on the surface. The cities had been rebuilt, everyone worked and obeyed, and life seemed to resemble a silent existence of order and stability. Yet beneath this facade, cracks were forming. Echoes of the old world.

Somewhere in this bleak world, among the gray walls and faceless crowds, there was a girl who would one day find what had been lost. Her name was Elira Valtorn. She did not yet realize that her fate was already intertwined with the shadows of the past, or that she would soon become part of a resurgence of ideas that would change everything.

The fog thickened. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of machinery echoed, and the lamps flickered once more. But this time, one of them went out forever.

Part I: A World Without Faces

Chapter 1: The Nameless City

Elira Valtorn was a woman who didn’t stand out in a crowd. Her appearance was ordinary, yet there was something subtly striking about her that drew attention. Her dark, slightly curly hair was always neatly tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of her way while she worked. Her eyes, gray and cold like the skies of Novoteria, held a depth few could discern. Her figure was slender but not fragile – years of labor as an engineer had toughened her body, making it strong and resilient.

She was a creature of habit, strict in her routines. Every morning, she woke up precisely at 6:00, did a short set of exercises to get her blood flowing, and headed to work. By the age of 24, her days were meticulously scheduled, and she rarely deviated from her plan. Elira loved order; it was her shield, her comfort. But deep within her soul lurked a shadow of chaos, a dark whisper she tried in vain to suppress.

Yet, despite her efforts to maintain the illusion of a calm and orderly life, Elira couldn’t shake the flashes of memory from her past. She couldn’t recall her parents’ faces, their smiles, or their voices. These fragments were hazy and elusive, like shadows retreating step by step from the light. Her life had begun in an orphanage in Novoteria, under horrific conditions that would have broken anyone else. She remembered only fragments – cold nights on hard beds, whispers and screams mingling with childish laughter and animalistic fear.

The orphanage offered no care, no love. Cruelty reigned there, masked by ruthless discipline. The caretakers, pressured by the Council of Observers, were merciless, like exterminators targeting every child. Elira remembered how some children vanished – emaciated, blending into the gray shadows. She never understood where they were taken, but each disappearance left a heavy mark on her heart. Every factor – systemic lobbying, persecution of gatherings, the screams – didn’t kill hope but instead strengthened her will to survive.

She learned to hide her emotions because showing them came at a cost. Her childhood wasn’t filled with toys and laughter but with constant struggle. She sought her own salvation, and it was this desire that once led her to dream of becoming an engineer. Every incident at the orphanage – whether it was the sting of mockery or a slap that left marks not only on her body but on her soul – added to her resolve to escape that place.

Elira succeeded. Later, she learned that her ticket out had been the opportunity to study, granted to her by the strict rules and distant lessons far removed from the orphanage. She studied relentlessly, spending days in the library surrounded by books that became her only solace. Technology and engineering became more than just subjects to her – they were her path to freedom. Every formula, every blueprint gave her a sense of control she had always lacked. Knowledge was her weapon against loss and fear.

Elira was observant. She noticed the little things others ignored. She saw how people’s hearts broke when they thought no one was watching, how fear stiffened their movements, how they tried to remain invisible. And she knew she was no different. But for her, it wasn’t just survival – it was a game. A game where she was both the player and the pawn.

Her talents and achievements didn’t go unnoticed. Channeling her passion and determination, Elira mastered the intricacies of engineering and honed her skills, becoming part of the system she once despised. But the system oppressed her endlessly, stripping away the last remnants of her humanity and individuality, turning her into just another cog in a machine that knew nothing of freedom.

Elira’s inner contradictions only fueled her drive. She dreamed of a world where order wasn’t tied to cruelty, where ignorance didn’t envelop people in its cold fog. And perhaps that was why she continued to play this dangerous game, ready to face the truth – the truth that had tried to consume her several times before.

She walked down a street that had no name. Like all streets in this city, it was designated only by numbers: Sector 7—12, Line 3. The city she lived in had no name either. It was simply called the «Central Region,» though it was far from central in any geographical sense. But in Novoteria, everything followed a logic that required no explanation. A logic that dictated names were superfluous and individuality was dangerous.

The air was thick and heavy, as always. The sky, perpetually shrouded in gray clouds, blocked out the sunlight. Elira was used to it. She couldn’t even remember what the sun looked like. Its image survived only in old books and archives, accessible to a select few. She had seen them once when, as one of the top engineers, she was granted access to the General Archive’s technological database. That was the first time she wondered if the world could have been different. But such thoughts were quickly suppressed. Thinking about the past was forbidden. Thinking about the future was forbidden too. The only thing that mattered was the present. And the present was gray.

Elira stopped at the entrance to the Engineering Corps – a massive concrete and glass structure towering over the other buildings. Its design was stark and functional, devoid of any ornamentation. Everything in Novoteria was like that: practical, faceless, stripped of individuality. Even the people.

She passed through the scanner that checked her identification chip embedded under the skin of her wrist. A green light flashed, and the doors slid open. Inside, the usual bustle greeted her. Engineers in identical gray jumpsuits hurried through the corridors, ignoring one another. No one greeted anyone. No one smiled. It wasn’t the custom.

Elira took the elevator to the 14th floor, where her office was located. The room was small and cozy, if such a word could even be applied to anything in this world. On her desk stood a holographic projector she used for work, alongside a stack of blueprints and calculations. She sat down and activated the projector. A three-dimensional model of a new city appeared before her – a city meant to house thousands of people relocated from the ruined regions.

She stared at the model, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Lately, she had been plagued by strange sensations. She caught herself asking questions she wasn’t supposed to ask. Why did everything have to be so gray? Why couldn’t people choose where and how to live? Why did they have to obey rules no one had established?

Elira knew such thoughts were dangerous. She had seen what happened to those who asked too many questions. They were taken away. They disappeared. And no one ever heard from them again. But she couldn’t stop. Her mind, like her designs, pushed beyond the permitted boundaries.

She sighed and returned to her work. She needed to finish the calculations for the new energy supply system. The city had to be completely autonomous, independent of external energy sources. This was crucial. Novoteria couldn’t afford dependence on anything. Independence was paramount.

A few hours later, a chime at the door interrupted her. She pressed a button, and the door slid open. Cain Dronov stood in the doorway.

«Elira,» he said, smiling. «Are you busy?»

She nodded but gestured for him to come in. Cain was her friend. No, not a friend. In Novoteria, there were no friends. He was her colleague. But with him, she could speak more freely than with others. He was like her – talented, intelligent, but cautious. He knew how to survive in this world.

«What’s wrong?» she asked.

«Nothing,» he replied, sitting down across from her. «Just wanted to check on you. You look tired.»

«I’m fine,» she said, though she knew he wouldn’t believe her.

Cain glanced at the holographic model.

«New project?» he asked.

«Yes,» she replied. «A city for the relocated. They want it ready by the end of the year.»

«Can you manage?»

«I hope so,» she said, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

Cain was silent for a moment, then said, «Elira, you know I’m always here to help. If you need anything, just say the word.»

She looked at him. His eyes were warm, but there was a strange shadow in them. She couldn’t quite place it. But she knew Cain was the only person she could trust. At least, that’s what she thought.

«Thank you,» she said. «I know.»

He nodded and stood up.

«Alright, I’ll get going. Don’t forget to rest. You’re not a machine.»

He smiled and left. Elira stared at the closed door, feeling a strange unease. She couldn’t pinpoint its source, but it was there, deep inside, like a worm gnawing at her.

She returned to her work but couldn’t focus. Her thoughts kept circling back to the questions she had no answers for. Why? Why did it have to be this way? Who decided everything should be like this?

She sighed and turned off the projector. She couldn’t work anymore today. She stood and walked to the window. Outside was the same gray world. People, like shadows, walked the streets with their heads down. Cars, just as gray and faceless, drove along the roads. Everything was the same. Everything was predictable.

But Elira believed that somewhere beyond this city, beyond Novoteria, there was another world. A world she had never seen but felt in her dreams. A world where people smiled and spoke their minds openly. A world where one could be oneself.

She closed her eyes and imagined it. But when she opened them, the gray, nameless city was still there. The city she was helping to build. The city that had become her prison.

She turned and left the office. She needed to go home. But home was just another place where she was alone. Alone with her thoughts. Alone with her questions.

Elira walked down the street, lost in thought. She had just left the Engineering Corps after spending long hours working on the new city project. Her head was heavy with numbers, calculations, and the endless demands of the Council. She felt her mind, trapped in a vise, trying to break free from the permitted boundaries. But to where? There were more questions than answers.

She turned onto Line 9, one of the oldest streets in the Central Region. Here, some buildings from before the Catastrophe still stood. Their once-grand facades were now cracked and coated with layers of gray paint, regularly applied to «refresh» them. These buildings stood as silent witnesses to a past no one dared remember. Elira often passed them, but today something made her slow her pace.

She stopped in front of one building. It was taller than the others, with massive columns at the entrance that had once likely been imposing but now resembled broken teeth. Above the door hung a sign with barely legible text: «Archive No. 17.» Elira frowned. She had never noticed this building before, though she had walked this route hundreds of times. It was as if it had appeared out of nowhere.

Her attention was drawn to the door. It was slightly ajar, which was strange in itself. In Novoteria, all doors were supposed to be locked. Unsecured spaces were a violation of the rules, and violations were punished. Elira glanced around. The street was empty. Even the surveillance cameras, which usually monitored every movement, seemed to be off. Their red lights, which always blinked like ominous eyes, were dark.

A chill ran down her spine. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. Her heart raced, and conflicting thoughts flooded her mind. On one hand, curiosity urged her to step inside, to find out what lay beyond that door. On the other, fear held her back. Fear of the Council of Observers, of the Citadel of Silence, of being caught breaking the rules. She knew even the smallest mistake could lead to disappearance – vanishing without a trace, without explanation, without a chance of salvation.

She glanced around again. The street was empty, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t being watched. Cameras could be hidden in the shadows, or agents of the Council could be following her, invisible as shadows themselves. Elira clenched her fists and took a step back. No, she couldn’t risk it. Not now. Not here.

She walked away quickly, resisting the urge to look back. Her pace quickened, almost to a run. She felt fear tightening her throat, as if an invisible presence was tracking her every move. She knew it was paranoia, but in Novoteria, paranoia was the only way to survive. Every step, every word, every glance could be used against you.

Elira turned onto Line 5, where her apartment building stood. It was a standard residential structure, as gray and faceless as everything else. She took the elevator to the 12th floor and entered her apartment. The room was small, with minimal furniture: a bed, a desk, a chair, a closet. Nothing extra. Nothing that could reveal her individuality. Even the walls were bare, devoid of pictures, photos, or decorations. Everything was as it should be.

She sat on the bed and closed her eyes. Her mind was overwhelmed with thoughts she couldn’t silence. Archive No. 17. What was it? Why had she never noticed it before? And why was the door open? It could be a trap. Or a test. The Council loved testing its citizens, especially those in prominent positions. Elira knew her status as a top engineer made her vulnerable. Her successes drew attention, and attention in Novoteria was dangerous.

She sighed and stood up. She needed to distract herself, but her thoughts kept returning to that building. To that door. To what might lie inside.

Chapter 2: Blueprints and Defiance

Elira Valtorn sat at her desk, surrounded by holographic projections and stacks of blueprints. Her fingers moved swiftly, making adjustments to the schematic of the new city. The project was progressing slowly, but she knew this wasn’t the limit of her abilities. Designing infrastructure for the relocated population was an important task, yet she felt her talent could be used for something greater. However, access to significant projects that could alter the course of history was tightly controlled. The Council of Observers strictly monitored who worked on what, and despite her skills, Elira wasn’t part of the inner circle.

In her free time, when she was alone in her apartment, Elira worked on what truly inspired her. On a small table in the corner of the room lay the blueprints she had been developing in secret. It was a project she called the «Regulator.» The idea had come to her one night as she pondered how to improve energy distribution in Novoteria’s cities. The Regulator was meant to be a compact yet powerful device capable of redistributing energy between systems, minimizing losses and increasing efficiency. For now, it was just a hobby, but Elira sensed that one day her invention could become the key to something significant.

She carefully folded the blueprints and hid them in a concealed drawer of her desk. Thoughts of the Regulator distracted her from the monotony of her daily routine, but now she needed to focus on her official work.

The next morning, as soon as she entered the Engineering Corps, Elira received a message on her terminal: «Elira Valtorn, you are required to report to the department head’s office at 10:00. Do not be late.»

She frowned. The department head, Garrick Torren, rarely summoned anyone personally. He usually limited himself to general meetings and issuing directives. Elira felt a flicker of unease. Had someone noticed her? Had someone seen her blueprints? Or worse, had they discovered her interest in forbidden ideas?

At exactly 10:00, she stood before the heavy door to Torren’s office. It slid open automatically, and Elira stepped inside.

The office was spacious but devoid of any warmth. Diagrams of cities and graphs adorned the walls, while a holographic projector on the desk displayed the department’s current projects. Garrick Torren sat behind the desk, his expression unreadable. His pale face, short haircut, and colorless eyes seemed to blend perfectly with the gray, sterile walls of the office.

«Elira,» he said, gesturing for her to sit. «Thank you for coming.»

She sat down, trying to remain composed.

«You wanted to see me?» she asked, striving to sound confident.

Torren nodded.

«Yes. I wanted to discuss your current project. You’re working on the new city for the relocated, correct?»

«Yes,» Elira replied. «We’ve completed the primary calculations and are now in the infrastructure design phase.»

«Good,» Torren said, his voice even but with a faint undercurrent of tension. «The Council of Observers is pleased with your work. However, they have some… concerns.»

Elira’s heart began to race.

«What kind of concerns?» she asked, trying not to betray her anxiety.

Torren leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

«They believe your project is too… ambitious. You’re proposing solutions that go beyond standard requirements. This attracts attention.»

Elira felt her palms grow damp.

«I just wanted to make the city more efficient,» she said, striving to sound convincing. «If we can minimize energy loss, it will benefit everyone.»

Torren studied her as if weighing her words.

«I understand your intentions,» he said finally. «But you must remember that in Novoteria, everything must remain within established norms. Individual initiatives are not encouraged.»

Elira nodded, trying to mask her disappointment.

«I understand.»

«Good,» Torren said, leaning back in his chair. «I trust you, Elira. You’re one of our best engineers. But be careful. The Council of Observers is watching everyone.»

He said it like a warning. Elira felt a chill run down her spine.

«I’ll be careful,» she said, standing up.

«Excellent,» Torren replied, his tone neutral again. «You may go.»

Elira left the office, her thoughts in turmoil. She understood she had been warned. But about what? Her project? Or something bigger?

She returned to her desk but couldn’t focus on her work. Her mind kept circling back to the Regulator. She knew her invention could change many things, but for now, it was just a hobby. Yet, if she could complete it…

Elira sighed and opened the drawer where her blueprints were hidden. She stared at them, feeling a fire ignite within her. She couldn’t stop. Even if it was dangerous.

Because somewhere beyond the gray, nameless city, another world might exist. And she knew that one day, her invention could be the key to reaching it.

The next day, Elira returned to Line 9. She couldn’t shake her thoughts about Archive No. 17. She knew it was a risk, but her curiosity outweighed her fear. She walked slowly, trying not to draw attention. The street was as deserted as the day before. The cameras were still offline.

When she reached the building, her heart raced again. The door was closed. Elira hesitated, unsure whether to approach. She glanced around, but no one was in sight. Finally, she took a step forward and cautiously pulled the handle. The door didn’t budge. It was locked.

Elira felt a mix of disappointment and relief. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps she shouldn’t meddle where she wasn’t invited. She was about to leave when she noticed something on the ground near the door. It was a small piece of paper, almost imperceptible. She bent down and picked it up.