Arjun Sen On the midnight shift aboard the survey ship Asterion, Mira Basu listened for trouble the way a violinist listens for a string going flat. Engines purred, monitors sighed, and the hull ticked as heat bled into space. She drank coffee and watched the interferometer graphs crawl. At 01:17 ship time, the graph hiccuped. Nine pulses rose from the noise: three short, three long, three short. Mira set the cup down. Not radio. Not laser. A gravitational ripple—faint but structured. SOS, stitched into spacetime. She paged the bridge. “Basu. Interferometer anomaly, band G-seven. Structured, repeating.” Captain Volkov’s voice arrived…
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Rhea Narayan 1 The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. London’s sky, swollen and sullen, pressed down on the city like a secret too heavy to bear. In a dimly lit lab tucked into the corner of King’s College, Dr. Ayesha Kapoor sat hunched over her laptop, the soft hum of servers the only sound interrupting the storm’s murmur. Her fingers hovered over a USB drive, its scratched casing labeled in smudged black ink: Lazarus. She hadn’t touched it in five years—not since Geneva. Not since she walked away from everything. The screen blinked awake, casting a bluish pallor across…
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Kiaan Ray 1 They said the Earth was dead. No roots stirred beneath the dust, no rivers flowed with memory, and no horizon ever changed. In the Loftworlds, that was the gospel. Up here, above the clouds, survival didn’t depend on soil or sun, but on filters, floating engines, and fear. Aira Sen had never seen the ground—not really. But she dreamed of it, in colors her eyes had never known. The dreams weren’t hers. That much she was sure of. The day the drone fell was the day the sky cracked. Aira was lying belly-flat on a rusted support…