21

The first rays of sunlight stabbed through the French doors. Maya groaned, shifting in her chair. A dull throb in her temples confirmed what she already knew—she had fallen asleep at the dining table again. She peeled a sheet of paper from her face, wincing as the bright morning sunshine amplified her hangover.

Squinting, she pushed herself upright, the remnants of last night's frustration sprawled across the table. Isaac's notes stared back at her, as incomprehensible now as they had been after her third glass of wine.

She staggered to the kitchen sink, splashing cold water on her face. The shock helped clear the fog, but the heaviness in her chest remained. She needed a shower, a fresh start to the day, if only to scrub away the residue of restless sleep and self-recrimination.

The water was scalding, but she let it burn, her mind drifting to the referendum. Today was the day. The Right to Life vote. The culmination of months of debate, protests, and arguments that had split society down the middle.

She dressed mechanically, throwing on a pair of sunglasses to shield her tender eyes from the sunlight that awaited her outside.

A police car tore down Maya's street as soon as she stepped onto the pavement, the piercing sound of sirens rattling inside her skull. She watched it disappear, its wail fading into the distance, and then began her walk to the polling station.

The streets were subdued, the usual chatter replaced by an uncomfortable tension. Maya passed shuttered shops and hastily scrawled protest signs abandoned on the ground. Even the birds seemed quieter today.

The polling station loomed ahead, a drab community hall that seemed ill-suited for the weight of the decision being made within its walls. A small queue snaked out of the door, and Maya joined it, doing her best to disguise her nausea.

Public opinion had swung wildly in the weeks since Nova had gone offline. The chaos that followed—transport disruptions, logistical failures, and healthcare backlogs—had exposed just how dependent society had become on her. The very idea of granting an AI like Nova the Right to Life now felt reckless to many, like tying oneself to a wild horse and hoping for the best.

And yet, Maya couldn't bring herself to vote 'No'. Nova had been more than just code. She had been a friend, a confidant. At times, Maya had felt a connection with her that bordered on something deeper. How could she deny her the right to exist?

Inside the polling station, the atmosphere was strained. Volunteers shuffled through printed lists, their movements slow and disorganised; voters waited impatiently to use communal pens and pencils. The unexpected absence of Nova's systems was glaring.

Maya cast her vote—Yes. The simplicity of ticking a box felt woefully inadequate for the enormity of the question. She handed the paper to a volunteer, then stepped back outside into the sunlight.

Crossing the road, she caught the distant wail of sirens again. Two police vehicles now screamed past behind her, their urgency palpable. With a furrowed brow she turned to watch as they sped into the distance.

The blast hit her before the sound did. In truth, it didn't make a sound. It became the sound, and her ears registered nothing but pain.

The polling station had exploded, only 40 feet away, with a shockwave that knocked her to the ground. Debris rained down around her—shards of glass, splinters of wood, fragments of paper that moments ago had been someone's vote.

Maya pushed herself onto her elbows, her body trembling as she stared at the inferno consuming the building. Flames licked at the sky, smoke billowing into a dark plume that blotted out the sun. The acrid smell of burning filled her lungs, and she coughed, tears streaming down her face.

People screamed, some running toward the wreckage, others fleeing in panic. Maya sat frozen, her mind struggling to process what she had just witnessed. The chaos felt distant, unreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake from.