Future Changes — Chapter 5 part 8

The Next Day

Another new piece of graffiti in the courtyard:

"Mother Ceres, you filthy bitch!"

The Silencers were there, motionless, watching.

The students pretended not to see anything, as always.

Theo stared at the wall carefully, but without committing himself.

Ceres walked past him and pretended there was no one there, her head lowered, still ashamed by the confession from the night before — and by the unexpected embrace.

They remained like that, strangers to each other.

The silence between them was so heavy that Daime couldn't take it anymore and opened his mouth:

— Everything's the same, man. Everything's perfectly normal... even the graffiti. Except for that face of yours and her indifference. — He nudged him, laughing to himself.

Tycho, buried in his own tray, was devouring his meal like a starving dog, paying no attention to anything.

Dark walked past Theo, deliberately bumped his shoulder, and muttered an insult just to annoy him.

Theo said nothing.

Daime gave another bitter laugh.

— Knew it... you did something stupid yesterday, didn't you? Typical of her to ruin everything after someone reaches out a hand. — He stared at Theo with that corrosive humor only he had. — Come on, look at me. I want to see that martyr face while I humiliate you.

Theo slowly raised his eyes, saying nothing, but boiling inside.

Daime smiled from the corner of his mouth, satisfied with the damage he could do with words alone.

Tycho left the cafeteria without caring about what was happening behind him.

Theo and Daime argued in a corner, trying to understand why Ceres was keeping so isolated. Theo only shook his head: he didn't know.

In the courtyard, Dru was already spreading her mat near the bushes, laying out odds and ends for the students to trade — cheap perfumes, nail polish, mascara, cassette tapes, old cassette players.

Tycho leaned against the area, just watching, headphones in his ears.

Suddenly, the cassette player hissed and stopped working.

He became furious, punching the machine as if it were an enemy.

Dru noticed the drama and smiled.

— I've got one for you, if you want to trade — she said without looking up.

Furious, Tycho didn't answer.

He went straight to engineering class.

The teacher was talking about engines and belts, pointing toward a workbench covered with parts.

At the end of the class, the teacher swept the rubber bands into the trash can.

Tycho waited for him to leave, then crouched down and picked up the bands, examining them with a gleam in his eyes.

On his way out, a student threw a cassette player into the trash, cursing. It didn't work.

Tycho slowly approached the trash can, like a hunter.

He stopped in front of it, took the headphones from around his neck, raised his head, and said to no one in particular:

— I found the gold.

That night, already under curfew, Tycho slipped through the dark corridors with a candle hidden beneath his shirt.

He slipped into the dormitory storage closet, where the cleaning supplies were kept.

Inside there was a small table stained with grease, and a burned-out light bulb fixed to the wall.

He lit the candle and placed it in the corner, illuminating the dust floating in the air.

He sat down, took the two cassette players from his pocket, and spread the rubber bands he had rescued from engineering class across the table.

He took thick wires from the broom bucket, sanded the ends against the wall, improvising small tools to open the covers of the machines.

One by one, he took them apart.

Both had the same problem: broken belts.

He smiled to himself.

Calmly, he cut the rubber bands into smaller strips and shaped them into new belts.

He tested the mechanisms, turned the wheels, and heard the soft click of the motor coming back to life.

They worked.

Tycho was as happy as a child.

He spent hours there, adjusting details, rewinding tapes, listening to a tiny piece of music at low volume just to prove he was right.

He didn't even notice the time passing.

Until...

A sound.

He stiffened, blew out the candle, and remained motionless.

On the other side of the door, a silhouette crossed the corridor carrying a faint flashlight.

Curious and cautious, Tycho opened the door just enough to peek outside.

The figure knelt before a wall already covered in graffiti.

He pulled black paint tubes from his pocket — clearly stolen from the carpentry room — and began tracing new words over the old ones.

When the flashlight hit his face, Tycho felt his stomach twist.

It was Gene.

The same Gene everyone feared, indifferent and brutal, marking the wall without hurry, as if writing a testament.

Tycho was horrified, but unable to look away.

The next day, the cafeteria was buzzing as usual.

Daime was making jokes far too loudly for that hour, getting laughs from those nearby as if nothing in the world could break his sense of humor.

But Theo couldn't laugh.

He was restless, his eyes fixed on the table beside them — empty.

On the cold white tile behind it, the graffiti still drew attention, hastily scrawled during the night:

Mother Ceres, Bitch in Heat.

The crooked, dirty black letters seemed to bleed against the sterile tone of the wall.

It was the second day in a row that something like this had appeared.

And, just like yesterday, there they were: two Silencers, standing beside the door, watching everything in absolute silence, their hands clasped behind their backs and their faces expressionless.

No one talked about it aloud.

No one dared.

Only the usual murmur, trays scraping against the metal tables, and Daime's loud laughter filled the space, as if everyone preferred to pretend that nothing was wrong.

But Theo could feel it: the absence at that table, the words on the wall, the presence of the Silencers — all of it weighed on the air like a cursed promise no one wanted to name.

— Where's Tycho? — he asked, frowning.

— Missing — Daime replied with a mischievous little smile. — Maybe he slept with the broom. Or with Dru.

Theo ignored the comment, even more worried.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ceres on the other side of the room, sitting alone.

She glanced at their table, but when Theo's eyes met hers, she quickly turned her face away.

She was still shaken by the conversation from the night before, he could feel it.

Theo didn't push her.

He let her have her own silence.

He got up amid the noise, leaving the wrapped cake in his hand.

He went to the dormitories.

He found Tycho wrapped in his bedsheet, still asleep.

The barely opened curtains let in a sliver of light.

Theo sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook him.

— Hey. Come on. You're late for class.

Tycho slowly opened his eyes, head lowered, his expression lifeless.

— I'll go... — he murmured without enthusiasm.

— You got a fever? — Theo asked, still holding the cake. — You disappeared from the cafeteria. I even brought you a piece.

Tycho looked at the cake for a moment, but shook his head.

— I don't want it.

Theo stood still for a moment, surprised.

— You don't want it? — he repeated quietly.

Tycho didn't answer.

He simply got up slowly and began getting dressed, still avoiding his friend's eyes.

Theo took a deep breath, stood up, and left, but not without casting one last thoughtful look at Tycho.

As he walked down the corridor, one thought kept chewing at him:

Something happened.

He never refuses cake.

Theo walked through the school corridors alone, his hands in his pockets and his brow furrowed.

A thousand thoughts raced through his head.

What the hell had happened to Tycho?

The way he'd woken up downcast, refusing the cake, not even looking at him... that wasn't normal.

And the first suspicion pounded in his mind like a nail driven into wood:

Dark.

If it had been Dark, if he had so much as laid a finger on Tycho...

Theo took a deep breath, trying not to let his own chest suffocate him.

He swore: if it was Dark, things were going to be worse this time.

He entered the classroom with a hard expression.

Daime was already there, sitting in the same corner as always, spreading poisonous comments for anyone willing to listen.

— Oh, and Tycho? Really disappeared? He must've turned into a shadow... or somebody's toilet! — he mocked, laughing to himself.

Theo sat down, crossed his arms, and glared at Daime.

An uncomfortable silence hung there for a few seconds, until Daime noticed the hatred on his friend's face.

— Whoa... — he muttered, raising his hands. — Calm down. It's not my fault your brother's an idiot, okay?

Theo didn't answer.

He couldn't.

He felt his blood boiling through his veins and, before the class had even begun, pushed his chair back, stood up, and left the room without saying a word.

Ceres, who was sitting two rows behind, silently followed every movement he made, her eyes tracking the door as it closed.

— Where did he go? — someone asked.

Daime stretched his arms, shrugging with a mocking half-smile:

— Hell if I know. Probably had to take a shit. Went to wipe his ass.

Theo didn't think twice.

He left the building and crossed the courtyard in long strides, like an animal tracking its prey.

If it was Dark, he swore this would be his last day at the school.

But before he reached the back area, Theo stopped when he spotted Tycho, crouched near Dru, who was kneeling and organizing her odds and ends across the mat.

Tycho was holding one of the repaired cassette players, staring at her with a vacant expression.

Theo gave a short, sharp whistle.

Tycho immediately raised his head, like a singed dog, responding without question.

Theo approached with heavy steps, grabbed Tycho firmly by the arm, not caring about Dru's surprised look.

— Hey! — she protested, frowning. — Brother?!

Theo didn't answer.

He dragged Tycho toward a more secluded corner, between two blocks, where no one would see them.

He released him there, standing face-to-face with him, both at the same height.

Tycho was trembling, almost crying.

— What did Dark do? — Theo shot out, his voice low but cutting. — Talk! What did he do to you?

Tycho stammered:

— I... I didn't... it wasn't anything...

Theo grabbed him by the collar, pressing his forehead against his, his eyes flashing.

— Don't lie to me, Tycho — he said in a threatening tone that made the younger boy shrink back. — Tell me!

Tycho closed his eyes, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks.

Finally, he murmured:

— ...It wasn't Dark.

Theo loosened his grip, incredulous.

— What?

Tycho took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice.

— It wasn't Dark... — he repeated, swallowing hard. — It was... Gene.

A heavy silence fell between them.

Theo took a step back, his eyes wide.

— Gene? — he asked, as if he didn't want to believe it. — What do you mean?

Tycho sniffed, his voice choked.

— I... I was in the dormitory cleaning closet... fixing the cassette players. Time passed, it was already night. Then I heard noises in the corridor. I went to look. He... he was there. In the cafeteria. With black paint. Doing... the graffiti.

Theo stood motionless, his fists clenched.

His heart beat in his chest like a hammer.

Gene.

Gene.

That wasn't just an affront.

To Theo, it was a betrayal of what was most sacred:

betraying Mother Ceres.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to contain the rage burning through his blood.

When he opened them, his gaze was cold as ice.

Without saying a word, he simply left Tycho standing there, stunned, and turned away, already decided on what he would do next.

The instant Tycho finished his confession, Theo stood motionless, staring at him as if he no longer recognized him.

Gene.

The name echoed through his mind, bringing confused memories — afternoons when they listened to music together in the dormitory, the improvised advice Gene gave him about Kat, the practiced plays on the court, the way he irritated everyone with his questions in class, and yet somehow managed to get answers from the teachers that no one else would dare ask for.

Deep down, it made sense that Gene was the graffiti artist.

He had always been bold.

He had always had a tongue too sharp for Ceres.

Theo took a deep breath and crouched before his brother, his heavy hand resting on his shoulder.

— Listen carefully, Tycho... — he said in a low, cold voice. — Don't tell anyone about this. Understand?

Tycho nodded, tears still in his eyes.

— Go back to engineering class. Now.

— But... but I already... already finished my assignments... — Tycho murmured, his voice choked.

— DO IT AGAIN! UNDERSTAND?! — Theo roared, the crack of his voice echoing down the corridor.

Tycho shrank even further, sobbing, and ran toward the engineering classroom.

When he passed Dru, she saw Theo standing there, surrounded by an almost demonic aura, his eyes blazing like embers.

She shuddered and said nothing.

Theo stood alone for a moment, staring at the floor.

One thought hammered inside his mind:

"My brother will not be an accomplice to a traitor. I won't allow it."

Then he took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and returned to the classroom he had left.

The teacher had already begun and stared at him as soon as he entered.

— Mr. Theo... — the man said, his voice rough — ...I've already told you I don't tolerate lateness.

— Sorry, sir. — Theo replied coldly.

That's when Daime, from the back of the room, burst out laughing and said loudly:

— Took a shit, huh? Came back for toilet paper!

Some students laughed.

Theo merely shot him a murderous look before sitting down.

He didn't even have the energy to care about Daime anymore.

Gene was there, sitting as if nothing had happened.

Theo looked at him briefly.

His chest burned.

He couldn't believe it.

Ceres, sitting a few rows away, noticed the dark aura surrounding Theo.

A weight settled over the classroom, as if a demon were lurking among them.

It was still morning.

The teacher turned toward the board and began explaining the day's topic:

"The Traitors Who Lose Their Names in Ceres."

Theo kept his eyes fixed on Gene.

Every word from the teacher sounded like a premonition:

"Those who betray lose everything... including the right to their own name."

Theo clenched his fists beneath the desk.

The decision was already taking shape, ferocious, inside him.

The teacher straightened his posture as soon as Theo entered and sat down, late and without looking at anyone.

The man raised an eyebrow when he noticed the trembling hand and the chair slightly cracked beneath the weight of his anger.

— Very well, young ones... — he said in a warm, unhurried tone.

His eyes lingered on Theo for a moment, with a small crooked smile.

— Ah... you're Major Tomas's brother. The astronaut. How fantastic! A true exemplary son of Mother Ceres... what a source of pride for all of us, isn't it?

The teacher turned back to the blackboard, abruptly erasing the old lesson with a dry, brusque motion.

The chalk squeaked as he wrote, without looking at the students:

“RECURRENCE OF BLASPHEMOUS GRAFFITI AT THE MODEL SCHOOL”

He dropped the chalk with a snap and faced the class.

His voice became lower and colder.

— This school is one of the best in Ceres. It is a source of pride for our Mother.

He cleared his throat.

— And in two days... two pieces of graffiti. Two insults spat into the face of the one who shelters us. — His hand struck the wooden desk, making several students flinch. — It is... concerning.

Silence dominated the classroom, the students' eyes fixed on him.

Then he took a slow step forward.

— And it doesn't hurt to repeat it... so that it is engraved in your minds. — His eyes swept across the class, cold as stone. — Those who break the rules, those who blaspheme against Mother... lose their names.

Some students swallowed hard.

— That's right. You didn't misunderstand me. — His eyes gleamed with restrained hatred. — They lose their names. They lose who they are. They become nothing more than an alphanumeric code, irrelevant before Ceres. Like garbage. Like dust. A soul without a face, without a history, without a past. A shadow forgotten by the system.

With every word, Theo felt his breathing grow heavier.

His fist was already white.

The teacher turned around and walked toward the window with his hands behind his back.

He remained silent for a moment, watching the courtyard.

Then he remarked in a softer, almost disdainful tone:

— And there is also... a suspicious little girl here... isn't there? A nuisance. — Without turning around, his eyes found Dru's, and hers widened. — Trading frivolous trinkets... forbidden tapes... women's makeup... things that do not serve Mother.

The man let out a short laugh.

— But... ah... Mother Ceres doesn't care about that. Flies don't carry away the meat, do they? Flies only circle... waiting.

The entire room went cold.

— However... there are flies that become irritating. And we know very well... what we do with flies like that.

At that moment, Theo's chair cracked.

A sharp sound echoed through the room as he squeezed the wood with such force that he broke one of the chair's arms.

Several classmates looked at him, frightened.

The teacher slowly turned around, cold.

— Compose yourself, Theo. — His voice was low, but cutting. — This matter is far too serious for childish behavior.

Theo took a deep breath, trying to contain the fire inside his chest.

The teacher then delivered the final blow:

— And let all of you know... — he said, walking back toward the front of the classroom — anyone who is... covering for... whoever it may be, no matter how much of a friend, brother, or classmate they are...

A pause.

A dark look at every face.

— ...will go down with the graffiti artist.

A thin, cruel smile.

— They will be burned. In D Square. So everyone can see.

Silence settled over the room like a sentence.