Chapter 11

• “What about you?” Gala asked as he picked up an apple slice. “You haven’t eaten anything.”
• “Any food I consume would just fall through me and make a mess.”
• Gala choked. “So you really are transparent?”
• “Yes. But I’m able to interact with physical objects. Like earlier—when I cooked. You saw that, didn’t you?”
• He blushed, remembering it. “So... what do you eat, then?”
• “Inside the dice, I recharge my energy.”
• “Electricity?”
• Dice shook her head. “Solar.”
• Gala didn’t understand what Dice meant. He just gave the hologram girl a blank, confused stare.
• “Can I touch you?” he asked.
• “You can,” she replied. “Only the owner of Dice can. And if the owner chooses to introduce me to someone else, only then can they touch me too.”
• That answer only piqued Gala’s curiosity more. “Will I get electrocuted or something?”
• Dice gave a stiff little laugh. “No. You’re welcome to try if you’d like, Sir.”
• She stood up and leaned in slightly, offering her hand—because no matter how awkward or unrefined this young man seemed, he was still her master. Her owner.
• Cautiously, Gala reached out, his hand hovering in the air. He was nervous, hesitant, but too curious to stop now. He’d seen her interact with the physical world, seen her handle objects like any normal human. So surely… she could be touched?
• As soon as his fingers contacted her hand, a strange sensation spread through his body.
• A soft orange glow pulsed along his skin, but Gala barely noticed it. His eyes widened—because at that moment, his mind was suddenly elsewhere.
• A vast field stretched before him, blanketed with vibrant flowers in every color. He could feel someone grasping his hand tightly, warmth radiating from the touch. And then he saw her. The woman they’d spoken of earlier that morning.
• His mother.
• Gala jerked his hand back instantly. The glow faded just as quickly. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart pounding in his ears.
• “What… what was that?” he whispered.
• “The future,” Dice said calmly.
• Gala turned to her, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “What?”
• “The future, Sir,” she repeated, her voice unwavering. “That was your future.”
• “How do you know that?”
• “With advanced technology, glimpses of what’s to come can be accessed,” she explained. “Many residents across Metro are already able to tap into it. But most of them… end up in mental institutions. The illusions of a perfect future are too intoxicating, too overwhelming. You saw the truth—but your heart hasn’t been corrupted by false hopes.”
• Gala stared blankly at her, unable to process any of it.
• “That vision you saw,” she continued, “that’s the real future waiting for you, Sir.”
• “No,” Gala muttered, shaking his head. He grabbed the glass of water from the table and drank deeply, like he was trying to wash away the image. He wiped the leftover water from his lips with the back of his hand, too tired to care about a napkin. “You told me my mother is in North Metro. But that vision—?”
• Dice offered a faint, almost mechanical smile. She sat back down in front of him, her tone steady. “You can save her, if you choose to.”
• “What?”
• “You have the power to set her free.”
• “You’re insane.”
• “I’m not. Why would you say that? I only speak the truth. You can rescue Mrs. Bellamie.”
• After that, silence fell between them.
• Gala was lost in thought, too tangled in the web of his own mind to respond. Dice simply waited—because that was what she was built to do. Wait for commands, assist, and ensure her master was safe… while quietly preparing the path toward their goal:
• Destroying Metro.
• “You said Xavier created you,” Gala muttered.
• “Yes,” Dice confirmed.
• “Did you know my mother?”
• Dice tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
• “Did you know her? Did you see her? Talk to her?”
• Gala ran a hand through his thick, unkempt hair. “Could she see you?”
• “No. Mrs. Bellamie was never introduced to me by Mr. Xavier. I was only given instructions to watch over her during his absence.”
• “Watch over her?”
• “Yes. I was assigned to protect her in case she caused trouble or got into any.”
• A flash of realization lit up in Gala’s eyes. His voice sharpened.
• “Then if you were supposed to protect her, why the hell did you let her go to North Metro? Don’t you know how dangerous that place is?”
• “Have you forgotten, Sir?” Dice replied calmly. “I only follow the final directive given by Mr. Xavier: Find his son. And once I did, transfer all ownership and command of Dice to his successor.”
• Gala fell silent.
• "The night Sir Xavier lost that great battle… that was when he gave his final command," Dice said softly. "Then he launched me—sent me as far away as possible. I had no control over where I would land. And once I did, my range to monitor Madam Bellamie became limited. I could no longer carry out my directive to protect her."
• Dice’s eyes locked onto Gala’s, unwavering.
• "It took me a long time to re-enter your vicinity, Sir Gala. I apologize… for arriving too late."
• ***
• That morning, Gala woke with a pounding headache. His alarm blared with a shrill intensity that felt like it could shatter his eardrums. Panicked, he bolted upright, disoriented and swaying, as if the ground beneath him had tilted. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples—something he often did when mornings felt like this. But then, the sound of that obnoxious alarm reminded him: he was nearly late.
• “Crap!” he muttered, scrambling to get up.
• And like clockwork, his foot caught in the blanket, and he crashed to the floor. His head slammed against the side of the wardrobe; his legs tangled awkwardly in the twisted sheets.
• “Damn it!”
• “Sir? Are you alright?” Dice’s voice came from the doorway.
• Gala groaned and looked up. The hologram was standing there, her glow no longer the usual blue—but a bright, cheerful yellow.
• “Did… did your color just change?”
• “Yes,” she replied calmly. “It shifts every day. It reflects my emotional state.”
• “Emotional state?” Gala scoffed, kicking the blanket away with frustration. His bed looked like a shipwreck—but that wasn’t his concern. He had more urgent things to worry about. Like being on time for work. “Shit!” he cursed again, staggering to his feet.
• “You’re working today as well?” Dice asked.
• Gala barely looked at her as he pushed past. She wasn’t solid, but he could still feel her presence—like a shadow with weight. She felt real, yet unreal. Human, yet not. It was unsettling.
• Despite her advanced design, Dice insisted she wasn’t a robot. She claimed to have feelings, albeit limited ones. She could experience joy, sadness, though some emotions, she admitted, might’ve been intentionally left out by her creator. Gala didn’t know which ones, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
• “Sir?” Dice tried again. “Today is Saturday. You usually have the day off, don’t you?”
• “It’s my half-day,” Gala shouted back from the bathroom, toothbrush clenched in his teeth. “I work until lunch. After that, I’m with Mr. Richard.”
• He paused, blinking at his reflection. Why was he even explaining his schedule to her?
• Dice wasn’t a friend. She wasn’t family. She was just some bizarre piece of tech left behind by a man he barely remembered.
• A man who’d abandoned him.
• His father.
• Still brushing, he shook his head and muttered under his breath, “What am I doing?”
• But Dice didn’t respond. She simply stood outside the bathroom door, glowing softly, her yellow hue flickering gently like morning sunlight through a fog.