And the wall went up. Thick. Tall. Violent.

A statement of failure. The failure of humanity. Wait, no. A failure of humanism. Yes, that is. A dismantled world with a dismantled society. That's where we lived: In a land sliced in two.

They used to say language is power. The most precious asset humankind has. Letters, words, sentences, ideas. Apparently, in the past, they could transform your mindset. They could define your identity. Even establish the meaning of your life. How odd is that, ha.

Trying to use words to convince anyone about anything now, was making a fool of yourself. Because why use words when you have data?

Data could scout your veins, crack your desires, forge your fears, predict your thoughts. Not bad, right? That's what we thought at the beginning. That's what we all fools thought. What. Fucking. Fools.

I was waiting in the fifth queue. My brother Michael next to me. We had our color mark stuck on our shirts as all the others who, like us, waited for the gates to open. We were the orange group. Green, white, blue... there were others. I couldn't see them all. Ten long queues stood in front of that big, endless wall that divided our world.

Four unbearable hours had passed, and the border still remained silent. Gates closed. Not a sound. Not a movement. Why did they make us wait so long? I was sick of it. My legs hurt, and Michael was, again, pressing his lower lip with his fingers, in that weird way he always did, folding it into several shapes as if doing origami with it. Sometimes I thought one day that lip would fall off. He turned twenty last week, but to me still looked very much like a little boy.

On the day of his birthday, I traded my breakfast for a slice of cake and spent almost an hour looking for two little branches that resembled a two and a zero, so I could use them as candles. The zero was impossible to find, of course, but I did find one that somehow, using your imagination, could look like a two. So, I woke him up with a dry slice of chocolate cake and a single branchy two candle on it.

If it weren't for the fact that he possessed the calmest spirit on earth, he would have stuck that cake in my face. I saw his eyes turn white. Because, what the hell was I thinking, trading my breakfast for a meaningless slice of cake? That's what he said.

Despite being two years younger than me, Michael was the most "responsible" of us. Or at least, that's what he repeated over and over again. From my point of view, he needed to live a little. Just a little. And sometimes that means being reckless and skipping breakfast to surprise your brother. Because how many times does one turn twenty?

A gust of wind slapped us with cold. The temperature was dropping. It wouldn't be long before a thousand knives of frozen air stabbed everyone and we didn't have much clothing on. But I couldn't complain. It just took me a glance to realize. Others were in worse conditions. Torn shirts and broken shoes. They wouldn't survive the temperature drop. A raw classic, if I'm honest. People leaving towns for the first time in their lives to cross the border, without any knowledge of the wild weather ahead. Many would freeze to death. Terrible? Yes, but nothing new.

"Do you think he... he'll be there?" Michael said with his finger between his teeth.

"Of course."

"But it's been two years... Do you think he'll remember me?" He met my gaze, his nose already red, his eyelids flaky.

"Nobody could forget you. Even less him. I'm sure he'll be the first one to hug you when we get there." I said, but I mean... who could be sure? I felt guilty. But I wouldn't snatch away the only thing that had sustained Michael to this point: Erik. We met him in a refuge ten years ago.

Since that day, they had become inseparable, which was quite something because Michael wasn't very friendly as a kid. He was the type of baby who would cry upon seeing new people, always scared of his own shadow. I used to have him glued to me every time we played hide and seek with other kids, following me everywhere. Although I have to admit, he was cute, and I could never get mad at him. I liked to protect him. That's why I loved Erik so much; he was quite the opposite of Michael, and surprisingly, he helped him come out of his shell. Plus, as they grew up, their friendship became something more.

I will never forget the day I found Michael with his cheeks blushing like tomatoes and telling me they had kissed during the wood recollection period. I was so happy for him. A bit of love in a world that seemed doomed to hate. Unexpected yet perfect. But Erik received The Call before us and we had lost contact with him ever since he crossed the border.

That's when Michael changed his mind, and now The Call didn't seem so bad of an option. What love does, huh?

By the way, The Call was, in other words, your chance to switch sides. Your only chance. Once in a lifetime. If you didn't show up, no matter the reasons, you were fucked. They wouldn't call you again. Stuck. Forever. On the side of the losers. On the side where you had to trade your breakfast for a slice of cake.

However, as odd as it may seem, some were okay with that. Not everyone supported what had grown far away from that wall: The Reg Society. The first time I heard that name, I thought they were some kind of superheroes with special powers. I imagined them with red capes and metallic blue uniforms, flying around the earth at lightspeed. I was five and naive. It didn't take me much time to learn the truth, though.

If you could ask my dad, he would put on a resonant voice and say: "The Reg Society, a civilization guided by data. Submitted to technology. Claiming to be the saviors of humanity! Heartless, inhuman monsters!"

But let me tell you that the reality (and I can't say this out loud because some would kill me) was that they really were the saviors of humanity. At least so far. They sure were slaves to data and blah, blah, blah, but whether we like it or not, they had managed to sustain life for years, something we hadn't succeeded in. People who lived there had a life expectancy of 80 years. Can you believe it? It sounds delusional to me. Here, on The Other Side, the planet swallowed us alive. Every. Single. Day. The most common way to die was due to unexpected acid rain storms. Five minutes under it, your skin would turn yellow. Ten minutes, you'd feel torched. Fifteen minutes and all the pores of your skin would bleed like a fountain. No need to tell you what would come next.

Then we also had the famous dark-hole grounds. This was funny. Imagine you're strolling through a lovely forest, but suddenly you step into an area that sounds void, and then, BAM. The floor opens and you fall into a dark hole, just God knows how many meters inside the earth. When we were little, we thought maybe, if the hole was long enough, you could escape to the other side of it. At least that's what we wanted to believe when our dog, Kas, fell into one of those. Our parents didn't contradict us. They simply nodded and never brought up the topic again.

So yeah, that was our lovely side of the world. What do you think? Paradise, right?

And now, for the first time (and only), we were about to switch it for... we had no idea, really.

"What would Mum and Dad think about us being here?" Michael asked, finally releasing his lower lip from that anguish-folding exercise.

I sighed. "Please, don't start with that again."

Michael feeling judged by the ghost of our dead parents was an exhausting trend lately. But I have to admit he had a point. Mum and Dad would never have thought we would be here. Not after all they had done to create a livable place for us on The Other Side. In the beginning, I admired them. Both refused to join the Reg Society and declined The Call when it arrived. But once they died, nothing made sense anymore. I wanted a life. A real life. I was exhausted.

Appreciating your life isn't being weak. Look at Erik—he didn't think twice when he got The Call, even if it meant leaving Michael behind, the only human he had loved. I didn't blame him, but Michael did for a while. And I get it, okay? But we can't afford foolishness. Not anymore. The world is what it is. Take what you can get. Get what you can take. Find peace with that. That's life for me. Moreover, that's a good life.

Besides, Erik had become everything to Michael. Seeing him again was what drove him to cross the border and for God's sake, it was hopeful to see that love still had a place in the world. That was precious, valuable, and unusual. That's why he couldn't lose it. I wouldn't let him lose it. He deserved to be happy.

Once we joined The Reg Society, everything would be much easier for us. I was sure about it. We just had to be patient.

Suddenly the sound of the gates. A shrill sound that pierced my brain. Everyone went rigid. Queues perfectly aligned like soldiers. I spotted some trying to smile. As if by seeming happy they would have more chances to get in. Pathetic.

The gates opened. Behind, the silhouette of a woman. I couldn't see her properly because the sun was fading right behind her. A gleam of light emanated from her dark figure. I heard her voice.

"Outsiders. Welcome."

A pause.

"Thanks for responding to The Call. Today, some of you will be transferred."

Fuck. Some of you? Chaos. That's what I was afraid of. Your only chance becomes suddenly the only chance for hundreds of people. Hungry, scared, and frozen people. Complaints erupted everywhere spreading like a virus. I couldn't hear anything else. People pushed us. The once-perfectly aligned queues became not-so-perfectly aligned. Someone pushed Michael. Someone pushed me after. Michael grabbed my hand.

A shot.

"Calm down, everyone!" The woman at the gates yelled. Her arm was raised to the sky, holding a laser gun. Desperate eyes locked on her. Silence.

"For every second we lose in chaos, a person will be left behind." She said. "We'll try to transfer as many people as we can, but we need your collaboration."

Now I could see her more clearly. She wore the silver and shiny Narval Uniform that all of them had and for that, they called them Narval Officers. She also wore the unmistakable Reg bracelet on her wrist, of course. Her brown hair was trapped in a braid and her eyes were... clear blue? So it was true. I thought my parents lied to me when they told me there were people with blue eyes beyond the wall. I had never seen a single one. Radiation had extinguished that gene ages ago, at least on our side. Ha, blue... A color that spoke of privileges.

The woman stepped forward.

"The green group." She yelled. A bunch of desperate folks advanced anxiously toward her like rats to cheese.

"The white group." She said next.

The white group was the shortest of all. We had no idea what each color meant, another of the one hundred things we didn't know. Information was very much a problem these days on The Other Side. Which is funny, when you think about how much data the Reg Society had. But they didn't share a single thing with us. No communication between the sides.

"The orange group." The woman finally yelled.

I gazed at Michael, trying to convey the most serene look ever. However, his eyes didn't mirror mine. He wasn't sure about it. I held his hand, and he took a deep breath in response.

As the queue moved forward, I mentally bid farewell to the world I knew: bye cracks on the floor, bye white trees, bye brown rivers, bye Kas, bye Mum, and Dad.

The blue-eyed woman waited for us, holding a weird digital device I had never seen in my life. "Name?" She asked without moving her eyes from the screen emitting a soft blue light that bathed her skin.

She had the most flawless skin I had ever seen. No trace of the cuts, scattered and red cheeks we, the Outsiders, usually had. I wondered what my skin looked like. No idea why. As if that would matter to anyone. It would for sure not be near close to hers. I suddenly felt a bit embarrassed.

Michael nudged my shoulder, I hadn't answered her question. She looked at me raising an eyebrow.

"Are you ok?" She asked.

Still didn't get used to her blue eyes. Blue is an odd color for human eyes, don't you think? It would be more fitting for owls or wolves, but humans? I didn't like it. However, she did resemble a wolf in some ways: cold, fierce, and devoid of emotion. Although with flawless skin, all said.

Michael nudged my ribs, this time harder, it hurt. "Answer her question." He whispered.

"Grace, it's Grace. Grace Haynes." I finally said, raising my voice a bit too much. As If trying to compensate for the overlong silence before. The woman touched the screen of that odd digital device for the thousandth time that day.

"What's yours?" I asked in return.

Michael gasped. "What are you doing?" he whispered, nudging my ribs again.

"Ouch!" I said, turning to him.

Maybe asking for her name wasn't the smartest idea, but I couldn't stand the feeling of them peppering us with all the questions, and us responding like trained puppies as if we could only speak with their permission. They looked at us as if we all were the same thing. The same pitful, wretched, and stinky human. I just wanted to reclaim my individuality.

The blue-eyed woman gazed at me, and this time she was really looking. It wasn't the same dull, superficial look she had given to all the others before. Now, she was focused on me, which, to my surprise, I found horribly uncomfortable. I had no idea why, but all of a sudden, I felt the need to apologize.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to..." I stumbled over my words, a typical nervous Grace reaction. Shit. I hated that.

She interrupted me. "Heather. Heather Anderson."

I nodded like an idiot, not knowing how to continue that weird introduction I had started. "Nice to meet you, I guess." I extended my hand to her.

I could hear Michael mumbling behind me, uttering all the bad words he knew, probably swearing to all the gods above about why he had such a crazy sister.

Heather observed my hand for a second, not moving a single inch. Then her blue eyes returned to mine.

"Please, move forward." She ordered.

I hid my hand, feeling a bit sheepish, and crossed the gates. When I got to the immigration waiting area, I turned, hoping to see Michael behind me, but he was still waiting at the gates.

The blue-eyed woman, apparently named Heather, had changed position with another officer and they had stopped the transfers for a moment. Michael looked at me from the distance, moving his feet nervously. "Keep calm." I whispered, hoping he could read my lips.

Finally, the new officer resumed the transfers, while Heather joined the immigration point where I was, along with another thirty outsiders. I heard the officer ask for Michael's name.

Suddenly, a thin thread of smoke caught my attention. It was snaking from somewhere amid the crowd still waiting to be transferred.

"What the hell is that?" I said.

Many others turned to see it. Heather, the Narval Officer who had transferred me, also raised her head. But before anyone could make sense of the situation, an explosion shattered violently. I crashed to the ground, a heavy weight on me. I felt a painful punch in my temples as if an electric charge squeezed my brain. Something crushed my right leg and needles drilled my hearing. I couldn't move. Shouts. Movement. Smoke. Why the hell I couldn't move? There was something on me. I forced my eyes open and saw that Heather was on top of me, her body covering mine. I tried to move and once she realized she stood up. Her perfect skin had now a bloody cut that came from her chin to her lower lip. Smoke swirled with the wind surrounding us as if we were inside a grey wormhole.

"Are you ok? Can you move?" She said helping me stand up.

I looked around. People running. Bodies on the floor. Blood. More shouts. Suddenly Michaels's voice through the distance.

"Grace!"

My eyes darted at him. He was behind the gates. The Narval Officers had made a human chain to prevent everyone from crossing in the middle of the commotion and Michael was on the other side. They didn't get to finish his transfer before the bomb shattered everything.

"Michael!" I shouted. I attempted to run at him, but a whiplash of pain in my leg made me fall. Heather caught me in the air.

"You're hurt." She dragged me to the central immigration booth, where many others observed with horror the scene. "Sit here. Don't move." She ordered.

"Please, help my brother. He was just behind me!"

She didn't answer but I knew she had heard me. Instead, she observed the commotion, her gaze firm and serious, not a single sign of stress.

"Officers, listen to me!" She yelled. "Prepare the gates for closer!"

"No!" I screamed.

Heather ignored me and ran through the crowd to help the other officers who carried injured people.

"Grace!" Michael yelled again.

No way. This couldn't happen. I stood up feeling the bones of my leg as cracked thin glass about to break into pieces. But I didn't care. I had to reach Michael. He had to cross.

"Michael! I'm coming!" I yelled.

One, two, three, four... I counted the unsteady steps as I did them trying to forget the pain and with a single idea in mind: saving Michael. I felt the dust rasping my lungs. The closer I got to the gates the more bloody bodies I discovered. What the hell had happened? And why did this had to happen today, on the day of our fucking transfer?

"Grace!" Michael's voice.

"I'm coming!" He was sinking in the middle of a hysterical crowd, who pushed against the human chain the Narval Officers had formed to prevent illegal transfers.

"Narval Officers, move back!" Heather's voice ordered. She raised her arm and made a signal I couldn't understand. The gates started to close.

"No! No!" I forgot the pain and ran to Michael.

The hysterical crowd dispersed at the threat of being crushed by the moving gates. Michael was on the floor. I ran and ran and ran as the gates drew closer. When I was just a few meters from him, someone blocked my way.

"I told you to stay still." Heather pushed me as if I was a street dog. My wobbly leg couldn't hold me anymore and I crashed to the ground.

"I have to help my brother!" I yelled as I stood up again.

"You're gonna end up dead! Step aside!" She said pushing me back, once more.

This time I didn't fall. Who the hell did she think she was? No one would stop me from rescuing my brother. I raised my fist ready to do what I was best at: fight. But to my surprise, she clenched it as fast as a fox and twisted my arm, making me scream in pain. She was way stronger than me, damn it. I folded on myself due to the pain and only then when I was practically melted on the ground, did she let me go.

"Grace!" Micheal's voice grew more desperate each time. He managed to stand up, but the people running prevented him from moving forward.

My sight blurred. A buzz. A hum. The drones were coming. A sound that always triggered the most terrifying sensations in me. Screams of dismay filled my ears.

"Take her back!" Heather yelled to one of her partners.

A Narval Officer dragged me away while I watched the drones land at the gates. Michael's confused face faded into the distance. The gates were just about to reach their closer when the drones unleashed a burst of Raynm fumes. Yellow and purple mist splashed. The clang of the gates resonated. Closer reached. Silence followed. A heartless void engulfed me which could only mean one thing: I was either dead or wished I were. Death seemed easier than facing the harsh reality that lay ahead of me: A world without Michael. 

Author's Note: 

Hey lovely reader! 💖

Thank you for finishing the first chapter of Silver Eyes! 😊 I hope you enjoyed it.

Please share your thoughts and impressions in the comments. This is the second version of Chapter 1, so if you've read the original one, I'm curious to know if you prefer this version.

If this is your first time here, welcome! I'm eager to hear your feedback. I'm currently editing the chapters, so there might be minor inconsistencies, but I assure you they won't hinder your enjoyment of the story!

Thank you so much for spending a bit of your precious time on my story.

Love,

Ava 💫