The sun hung low over the vast, arid landscape, its heat radiating off the cracked earth. The wind carried fine grains of dust, swirling lazily before settling on the weathered wooden porch of a lone building.
It stood in the middle of nowhere—a relic of the past in a world that had long moved on.
A faded sign above the entrance read:
“La Casa de Fernando”
The place was more than just a charging station—it was a gathering point, a waypoint in the endless expanse of dry land. A few scattered solar panels covered the roof, soaking in the punishing Mexican sun. Below them, a row of old charging docks hummed quietly, their lights flickering as they refueled the machines that passed through.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of grilled meat and spices. A single ceiling fan spun lazily, its blades coated in dust. The wooden tables and chairs had seen better days, their surfaces scratched and worn by countless travelers who had passed through over the years.
On the front porch, Fernando lounged in a reclining chair, his hat tilted over his face to block the glare. He was a broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, the kind of person who had seen everything and worried about nothing. A half-empty bottle of agua fresca rested beside him.
Then—a low hum in the distance.
A car.
Fernando didn’t move at first. He listened. The sound of tires on dry earth, the soft whir of an electric engine, the distinct clicking of cooling vents struggling against the heat.
A visitor.
Slowly, he pushed back his hat, squinting into the shimmering horizon as a vehicle approached.
The dust-covered car rolled to a stop at one of the charging docks. The doors hissed open, and out stepped a tall man with a rugged build, dressed in practical travel clothes—the kind meant for long journeys through unforgiving landscapes.
Fernando grinned.
“Pedro!”
The traveler’s face lit up. “Fernando! Hermano, it’s good to see you!”
Fernando stood up and stretched, walking toward the car. “How long will you be charging for today? Do you have time to have a bite?”
Pedro clapped a hand on Fernando’s shoulder, grinning. “Of course. How could I say no to your cooking?”
Fernando laughed. “Then come in, amigo. Let’s eat.”
Together, they stepped inside La Casa de Fernando, leaving the heat of the desert behind.
Inside, La Casa de Fernando was as worn down as it looked from the outside. A few wooden tables filled the small space, their surfaces covered in scratches and stains. The walls were lined with old posters and trinkets, souvenirs of travelers who had passed through. The place had a certain charm, but it had clearly seen better days.
At the far end of the room, a humanoid robot was cleaning a table, moving in slow, mechanical motions. Its frame was outdated and battered, its joints stiff. It was shaped like a woman, but time and neglect had taken their toll.
Pedro watched as Fernando took a seat.
Then, Fernando called out to the robot.
“Sylvia!”
The robot stopped what it was doing and turned toward them. Its head tilted slightly.
“Yes—”
CLANK.
Its head fell off.
The body froze, standing there, motionless, like an abandoned puppet.
Fernando sighed, rubbing his forehead. “That old thing is broken again.”
Pedro chuckled. “She’s seen better days.”
Fernando shook his head. “Let me call my daughter.”
He pulled an old phone from his pocket and dialed.
“Jasmina, come over here. Sylvia is broken again, and I’m with a customer.”
After hanging up, he leaned back and looked at Pedro. “Let me grab us a drink while we wait.”
Pedro nodded, watching as Fernando walked behind the counter.
A few minutes later, the front door swung open.
A 13-year-old girl stepped inside. She had long black hair, tied back loosely, and wore worn-out work clothes, slightly oversized for her small frame. She carried herself with calm confidence, her hands already pulling out a small toolkit from her belt.
She barely glanced at Pedro as she walked in.
“Hi, Pedro.”
Then, without another word, she knelt down next to Sylvia’s fallen head and got to work.
Fernando smirked, watching her. “How’s it looking?”
Jasmina popped open the back of the robot’s head, exposing a tangle of old wiring and circuits. She examined them quickly, adjusting something with a small screwdriver.
“It’s okay,” she muttered. “I should be able to fix it.”
Fernando grinned, clearly proud.
“You’re saving me a lot of money, you know.”
He looked at Pedro, nodding toward his daughter. “She’s a smart one, huh?”
Pedro chuckled, lifting his glass.
“That she is.”
They both raised their drinks and cheered, while Jasmina continued working, completely focused on bringing Sylvia back to life.
The bell above the door jangled sharply, cutting through the comfortable hum of conversation.
A woman stepped inside, holding the hand of a small boy—no more than five or six years old. Her posture was rigid, her expression unamused.
Jasmina’s mother.
She scanned the room for half a second before locking eyes on her daughter, who was still hunched over the broken robot.
Her voice was sharp.
“Jasmina!”
Jasmina immediately froze, her screwdriver still in hand. She looked up at her mother. Then, slowly, she turned her gaze toward her father.
Fernando sighed. “Aie…”
Pedro sipped his drink quietly, wisely staying out of whatever was about to happen.
Jasmina’s mother marched forward, her grip tightening on her son’s hand.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” she scolded. “You know you’re not supposed to repair robots! It’s the law. Only robots are allowed to fix other robots.”
Jasmina looked down, muttering, “Sylvia’s practically falling apart… she needed help.”
“That’s not the point,” her mother snapped.
Fernando cleared his throat, stepping in cautiously.
“Now, now,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, “before we get too upset, let’s just take a deep breath and—”
His wife’s glare shut him down immediately.
He adjusted his approach, walking on eggshells, but still standing by his daughter.
“Look,” he said carefully. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and you know what’s great about that?”
He held up one finger.
“First: Nobody cares.”
Then, he held up a second finger.
“And second: Nobody cares.”
His wife cut him off, irritated.
“You already said that.”
Fernando blinked. Then, he gestured grandly toward the room, pointing first at Jasmina, then at Pedro.
“Right! And look—nobody cares!”
Pedro lifted his glass, offering an amused nod of agreement.
Jasmina bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
Her mother was not amused.
She exhaled sharply. “We’ll talk about this at home.”
Jasmina sighed, putting away her tools, then walked over to her mother and little brother.
As they stepped outside, Fernando watched them go, then slowly turned back to Pedro.
He cringed.
“I’m going to have fun tonight.”
Pedro chuckled, raising his glass again.
“Salud, hermano.”
Fernando sighed, grabbing his own drink.
“Salud.”
The clinking of cutlery filled the otherwise silent room. The small dining table, old and slightly uneven, was set with simple plates of food—warm tortillas, frijoles, and fresh vegetables. The family sat around it, eating in quiet anticipation of what was coming.
At the head of the table sat Jasmina’s mother, her expression unreadable. Next to her, Jasmina’s little brother focused on his plate, blissfully unaware of the tension. Fernando sat opposite, chewing slowly, and next to him, Jasmina played with her food. At the other end, her grandmother, an old woman with sharp eyes and a quiet, knowing presence, waited.
Finally, Jasmina’s mother broke the silence, her tone solemn and heavy.
“I found Jasmina fixing a robot today. Again.”
She wasn’t speaking to Fernando. She was speaking to her own mother, Jasmina’s grandmother.
The old woman raised an eyebrow, then turned to Fernando with a slight wink.
“Really?” she said, curious. “And how did she do?”
Fernando smiled, clearly holding back amusement.
Jasmina felt a flicker of hope—but it was immediately crushed.
Her mother exhaled sharply, irritated. “It’s illegal.” Her voice grew tighter, harsher. “She’s going to end up in trouble.”
The amusement vanished from Fernando’s face.
Jasmina’s mother looked around the table, her frustration clear.
“I’m tired of this,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “The whole family gangs up against me, and I seem to be the only one actually trying to protect her!”
That hit hard.
Nobody spoke.
Even the grandmother looked down at her plate, her sharpness softened by understanding.
Then, Jasmina spoke up.
Her voice was steady, determined.
“But I want to become a coder, Mom.”
The table went completely still.
Jasmina’s mother snapped.
Her chair scraped against the floor as she turned to her daughter, rage flashing across her face.
“Not this again!” she spat. “You will not become a criminal, Jasmina! I won’t allow it!”
Jasmina’s heart pounded.
“But—”
“Enough!” Her mother slammed her hand against the table. “I know exactly where you get these stupid ideas from!”
Jasmina froze.
Her mother’s voice dripped with anger.
“That old fool who lives by the lake.”
Jasmina’s breath caught. “He’s not an old fool! He’s my friend!”
“Friend?” Her mother let out a bitter laugh. “He’s a fool! A man who lives alone, playing pétanque all day with his idiot neighbor!”
Jasmina felt hot tears welling up in her eyes.
She pushed her chair back, her face burning with frustration.
“You don’t understand.”
Her mother’s jaw tightened. “I understand perfectly.”
Jasmina clenched her fists, but there was nothing left to say.
Without another word, she turned and walked away from the table.
She didn’t run. She didn’t make a scene.
She just left.
She went to her room, closing the door firmly behind her.
And for the rest of the night, she didn’t come out.
The school bell rang, releasing a flood of students onto the dusty streets.
Jasmina moved quickly, weaving through the crowd toward where her electric bike was parked. She swung a leg over it and powered it on.
As soon as the display lit up, she grinned.
Freedom.
She pedaled out of the schoolyard, heading toward the open road, leaving behind the noise, the rules, the walls.
The further she rode, the lighter she felt.
Once she reached a quiet stretch, where there were no other bikes, no drones, no eyes watching, she slowed down and looked around carefully.
Nobody.
She smirked, reached down, and yanked a hidden wire near the base of the bike.
Brrrrrrrrrr-CRACK!
A mechanical engine roared to life beneath her.
The bike lurched forward with a massive boost, sending sparks flying from its exposed wiring. The acceleration threw her back, and she let out an excited scream, stretching her legs straight out as the speed kicked in.
The dry landscape blurred past as she raced down the road, the engine growling like a beast set free.
For a few seconds, she felt untouchable.
Then, as she neared her destination, she let go of the wire, and the engine cut off.
Silence returned, the bike humming quietly as she rolled forward, slowing down just before reaching the edge of the lake.
Nestled next to the calm water, a caravan stood parked under the shade of a few scattered trees.
A few meters away, a small pétanque playground—just a rectangle of carefully raked dirt—marked the gathering spot.
Two older men stood near it, each holding a metal pétanque ball in their hands.
As Jasmina pulled up, one of them was mid-throw.
The ball spun through the air, hit another ball dead center, and stopped exactly in its place, sending the first ball flying out of the play area.
The man who threw it grinned smugly and lifted his hands in victory.
“Carreau en place!” he shouted with satisfaction.
The other man scowled, clearly not amused.
Jasmina rolled her bike to a stop, stepping off just as the first man turned toward her.
“Hello, Jasper! How’s it going?” she called out.
Jasper, still smiling at his perfect shot, puffed out his chest.
“Winning!” he declared, his voice playful but triumphant.
The other man grumbled, crossing his arms.
Jasmina chuckled.
Same old Jasper.
Jasper tossed his pétanque ball into the air and caught it as he turned to Jasmina.
“So, what brings you here? Did you finish that game I gave you?”
Jasmina smirked. “Which one? Super Mario Land? I finished that one easily.” She leaned back, crossing her arms with a hint of bragging.
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Easy, huh?”
He shook his head, amused.
“Wait until you hit your first kill screen in Donkey Kong. Then—and only then—can you start bragging.”
Jasmina’s confidence wavered. She had heard of Donkey Kong’s legendary difficulty—arcade games designed to push players to their limits.
She decided not to argue.
Jasper grinned, sensing her shift. “Ahhh, Donkey Kong… Not like that crap they make you play at school. Real games. Games that were built to make us better, not dumber.”
Then, shaking himself from his thoughts, he glanced at the setting sun. “Alright, enough talk. Let’s go inside.”
He turned to his pétanque opponent, a man named Mike, and clapped him on the back.
“I’m done for the day. Light’s getting low anyway.”
Mike nodded. “Good game.”
Jasper reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of dry sausage, and placed it in Mike’s hand.
Mike’s face lit up. “Now that’s a proper prize.”
Jasper chuckled. “Enjoy it, amigo.”
With that, he and Jasmina stepped inside the caravan.
The inside of the caravan was massive—larger than it looked from the outside. It had been heavily modified over the years, filled with old monitors, circuit boards, and shelves lined with vintage electronics. There was even an arcade cabinet pushed against the wall, its screen dim but functional.
Jasmina loved this place.
Jasper reached into his pocket, pulled out another piece of the dry sausage, and handed it to her.
“Here, try this.”
Jasmina took it, eyeing the dark, wrinkled surface before taking a cautious bite.
Her eyes widened immediately. The texture was chewy but rich, with intense flavors of pepper and garlic.
“Wow!” she said, her mouth still full. “What is this?”
Jasper grinned. “My cousin brought it back from Corsica. It’s called saucisson.”
Jasmina quickly took another bite. “I’ve never tasted anything like this!”
Jasper chuckled. “Good, huh? Real food. Not like the processed junk they sell in the cities.”
Jasmina nodded enthusiastically, savoring the unique flavors. For a moment, she completely forgot about everything else.
Jasper watched her reaction with satisfaction before leaning against the desk.
“So, tell me—have you made progress on your circuits?”
Jasmina nodded eagerly. “Yes! I can build all sorts of things now.”
Jasper’s face lit up with genuine pride.
“Good. That means it’s time for the next step.”
Jasmina’s eyes widened. “You mean—?”
Jasper nodded.
“It’s time for you to learn how to really program. Not just building hardware, but actually writing software.”
Jasmina’s heart raced.
“Really? You think I’m ready?”
Jasper gave her a knowing look.
“I know you are.”
Jasmina could barely contain her excitement.
Her journey was about to begin.
Jasper leaned against the cluttered workbench, watching Jasmina finish the last bite of her saucisson.
“Alright,” he said, “do you remember what I told you about transistors?”
Jasmina wiped her hands on her jeans and nodded. “Of course. They’re tiny switches that control electricity—computers wouldn’t exist without them.”
Jasper grinned. “Good. Now, instead of manipulating transistors and wires directly, we’re going to take a different approach.”
He pulled a small, old circuit board from a drawer and placed it in front of her.
“This,” he said, tapping it, “is where things get interesting. Instead of dealing with individual transistors, we use something called registers.”
Jasmina squinted at the circuit board. “Registers?”
Jasper nodded. “A register is just a group of 8 bits. Think of it as a tiny storage box inside the processor—8 little switches that can be turned on or off.”
He picked up a marker and quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper:
10101011
“This,” he said, pointing at the binary number, “is a register with 8 bits. Each bit is just a transistor being turned on or off. But instead of flipping them manually, like plugging and unplugging wires, we use code to manipulate them.”
Jasmina stared at the numbers, then back at Jasper. “So instead of moving electricity around by hand, we’re giving instructions for what to put in these registers?”
Jasper smiled. “Exactly. But underneath it all, nothing changes—it’s still just wires and transistors.”
Jasmina nodded slowly, absorbing it. “So programming is really just… controlling electricity, but at a higher level?”
Jasper gave her an approving nod. “That’s the best way to put it.”
He tapped the workbench. “Now, let’s see if you’re ready to start writing some actual instructions.”
Jasmina grinned.
She was more than ready.
Jasper turned to the old computer sitting on a side desk and motioned for Jasmina to sit down.
“Alright, time to get your hands dirty. Plug in the stick and go to this link.”
He grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote down:
http://closedsourcebook.com/asm.html
Jasmina typed it into the browser and hit Enter.
The screen flickered for a moment before loading a simple interface—a tiny machine simulator with a text editor on one side and a basic output panel on the other.
Lines of code were already on the screen.
Jasmina leaned forward, reading them carefully.
MOV A, 1
MOV B, 1
ADD A, B
“What am I looking at?” she asked.
Jasper grinned, leaning in beside her. “This is your first program. It’s simple—just three instructions. Let’s go through them one by one.”
He pointed at the first line:
MOV A, 1
“This line tells the machine: Put the value 1 into a register named A.”
Jasmina nodded. “Okay, so it’s like assigning a value to A?”
“Exactly.” Jasper pointed to the second line:
MOV B, 1
“Same thing here, except now we’re putting a 1 into register B.”
Jasmina was following so far.
Jasper then tapped the last line:
ADD A, B
“And here’s where the real action happens. ADD A, B means: Take the value in A, add the value in B to it, and store the result back in A.”
Jasmina’s eyes lit up. “So A was 1, B was 1, and now A should become 2?”
Jasper nodded approvingly. “Exactly. You just wrote a program that performs addition.”
Jasmina couldn’t help but smile.
It was basic, but she had just programmed a machine.
Jasper pointed at the top of the screen, where a small button labeled “STEP” was visible.
“See this button? This lets you run the program step by step, so you can see exactly what happens inside the machine as it executes your code.”
Jasmina nodded, already reaching for the mouse.
“Go ahead, press it.”
She clicked STEP.
The screen responded immediately.
Jasper smiled. “Alright, two things just happened.”
He pointed at the code window.
“First, look here—see how the second line is now highlighted in blue?”
Jasmina nodded.
“That means the computer has executed the first instruction and stopped at the second one, waiting for you to press next before continuing.”
Jasmina’s eyes flicked to the right side of the screen, where the registers were displayed.
“And the second thing?” she asked.
Jasper smirked. “Check the state of the registers.”
She scanned the panel.
Right under the letter A, the value had changed.
It now read:
A = 01
Jasmina’s eyes widened.
“So the first instruction actually did its job! It put a 1 in A.”
Jasper nodded approvingly. “That’s right. Now let’s do the same thing for B. Press step again.”
Jasmina clicked STEP once more.
The blue highlight moved down to the next line, and the B register updated:
B = 01
Jasmina grinned. “Okay, now both registers have the values we gave them.”
Jasper tapped the screen. “Exactly. Now, one last step. Let’s see what happens when we execute the ADD instruction.”
Jasmina clicked STEP again.
The moment the instruction ran, the A register updated:
A = 02
Jasper threw his hands up. “Boom! Voilà! Your program just ran successfully. The machine added A and B together, and now A holds the result.”
Jasmina stared at the screen, completely absorbed.
It was simple, just numbers in small registers, but it worked—she had written instructions, and the machine had followed them.
She couldn’t help but smile.
Jasper leaned over the desk, pointing at the screen. “Alright, now let’s complicate things a little bit.”
Jasmina’s eyes lit up.
“As you can imagine, you can’t just keep writing one instruction per line forever,” Jasper continued. “Sometimes, a computer needs to perform millions of operations, and we don’t want to write them all out manually.”
Jasmina nodded.
“So instead, we use something called a loop. A loop lets us repeat instructions without writing them over and over. Let’s write our first loop.”
Jasper grabbed a notebook and quickly scribbled out the plan.
“We’re going to write a program that adds numbers from 1 to 4.”
Jasmina raised an eyebrow. “So… 1 + 2 + 3 + 4?”
“Exactly.” Jasper nodded. “Now, of course, we could just write four ADD instructions in a row, but we don’t want to do that—we want to use a loop.”
Jasmina cracked her knuckles. “Alright, let’s do it.”
Jasper tapped the keyboard.
“We’re going to modify our previous program. First, we keep MOV A, 1 the same, but we’ll change B to 0.”
He typed:
MOV A, 1
MOV B, 0
“Now, here’s where it gets interesting. We’ll add a label—it’s just a marker in the code, like a bookmark.”
He typed the next line:
loop:
“Now, the action starts.”
He typed:
ADD B, A
Jasper turned to Jasmina. “Okay, first iteration—what’s the new value of B after this instruction?”
Jasmina thought for a second. “1!”
Jasper nodded approvingly. “Correct. The first time through, B becomes 1. But we need to keep adding the next number in sequence—so what do we do next?”
Jasmina thought for a moment. “We increase A?”
“Exactly!” Jasper typed:
INC A
“Remember that incrementer we built with logic gates? It’s the same thing, except now we’re doing it directly in a register. INC A adds 1 to A, moving us to the next number in the sequence.”
Jasmina nodded excitedly.
“Now comes the trickiest part—the condition for stopping the loop.”
Jasper continued:
CMP A, 5
Jasmina paused, frowning. “Wait… 5? But we’re adding numbers up to 4, not 5.”
Jasper’s grin widened. “That’s it! You just made your first off-by-one error!”
Jasmina crossed her arms, annoyed. “I hate that.”
Jasper chuckled. “Don’t feel bad. Every programmer makes this mistake all the time.”
He leaned forward. “Think about it—if we stopped at 4, we’d be missing the last addition. The loop would stop one step too soon.”
Jasmina sighed. “Fine, I see it now. We need to check for 5 so that 4 gets added properly.”
Jasper nodded. “Exactly. Now, this next instruction is what makes the loop actually loop.”
He typed:
JNZ loop
“This means: Jump back to ‘loop’ if the Z flag is not set.”
Jasmina squinted. “Z flag?”
Jasper pointed to the right side of the screen. “See the Z status? Right now, it says false. But when CMP A, 5 finds A and 5 to be equal, the flag will turn true.”
Jasmina nodded slowly. “So as long as A is not 5, it keeps looping?”
“Bingo. When A does become 5, the loop will break and continue to the next instruction, which is—”
HLT
“Halt. This stops the program.”
Jasmina grinned. “Okay, let’s see it in action!”
Jasper handed Jasmina the keyboard. “Alright, go to this address: http://closedsourcebook.com/asm2.html and step through the program.”
She loaded the page, her hands moving quickly.
She pressed “STEP” once.
The first instruction executed.
She stepped through again and again, watching B increase each time as the numbers added up.
Finally, when A hit 5, the Z flag switched to true—and instead of looping, the program continued to HLT and stopped.
Jasmina’s eyes darted to the final result.
“Oh, look! The final value in B is 0A!”
Jasper’s face lit up. “That’s hexadecimal, right?”
Jasmina nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! And 0A in decimal is… 10!”
Jasper clapped his hands. “Exactly! You get it!”
Jasmina sat back in pure satisfaction, staring at the machine that had just followed her orders, step by step.
This was real programming.
The low hum of electronics filled the air inside the caravan as Jasmina and Jasper stared at the screen, still buzzing from the excitement of running their first real program.
Then—a noise from outside.
A deep, mechanical whirring, followed by the unmistakable sound of something hovering nearby.
Jasper froze. His expression turned serious as he moved toward the window. He pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek through.
A large drone was hovering outside, its red eye scanning the caravan.
Then, a voice—cold, authoritative, amplified through a loudspeaker—shattered the silence.
“Jasper Kopernik, you are surrounded. Step out of the caravan with your hands in the air.”
Jasmina’s heart skipped.
She turned to Jasper, her breath quick and shallow.
Jasper’s jaw tensed. He turned back to her, and in an instant, he made a decision.
With one swift motion, he flipped the table over, sending papers and electronics crashing to the floor.
Beneath it was a rug—and Jasper ripped it away, revealing a metal hatch.
He yanked it open.
“Get in,” he ordered.
Jasmina stared at the dark tunnel below.
“But—”
“No time! Go!”
She didn’t move.
“You’re coming with me, right?”
Jasper’s expression hardened. “They’re looking for me. If I go with you, they’ll catch us both.”
“I’m not leaving without you!” she protested, panic creeping into her voice.
Jasper grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Before she could react, he pushed her down into the hatch.
“No!” Jasmina screamed, scrambling to climb back up.
Jasper slammed the hatch shut.
Through the metal, his voice came through—steady, calm.
“Promise me one thing.”
Jasmina pounded on the hatch. “Jasper, don’t do this!”
“Promise me.” His voice was unwavering. “Become a programmer, Jasmina. You’re gifted. Now go.”
Tears burned in her eyes, but her legs moved on their own.
She ran.
Back in the caravan, Jasper stood still as the drones outside powered up their weapons.
A loud hissing sound filled the air.
Then—red beams cut through the walls, slicing through metal and furniture like paper. The roof groaned, and small fires started where the lasers had touched flammable material.
Jasper didn’t move.
Instead, he walked to a wooden crate filled with old records and flipped through them casually, as if he weren’t being actively hunted.
His fingers landed on a familiar cover.
Pink Floyd – Another Brick in the Wall
He grinned.
“Might as well go in style.”
He pulled out a record player, placed the vinyl on the turntable, and cranked the volume knob to the max.
As the music began, the speakers inside the caravan blared:
“We don’t need no education…”
Jasper hummed along, tapping his fingers against his leg.
Outside, more police vehicles arrived, lights flashing.
The lasers continued cutting through the caravan, weakening the structure.
Jasper moved with purpose, sliding his hands into his pockets.
Then—a movement.
Two small drones launched from his sleeves, buzzing into the air.
They hovered around him, their tiny eyes blinking in sync.
“Hey! Teachers! Leave those kids alone!”
Jasper grinned and made a small gesture with his hands.
More drones emerged—from the ceiling, the floor, the walls—all responding to his command.
The police loudspeaker blared:
“Jasper Kopernik, you are under arrest. Get on your knees and place your hands behind your head.”
Jasper ignored it completely.
Instead, he reached forward and punched the weakened front wall of the caravan.
CRASH!
The entire wall collapsed outward, sending dust and debris flying.
Jasper stepped forward, facing the army of police drones and officers waiting for him.
He rolled his shoulders, loosened his wrists, then—without hesitation—made a sharp motion with his hands.
His drones swarmed forward, lasers igniting.
The police drones fired back.
The officers opened fire.
The battle erupted in a storm of flashing lights, smoke, and burning metal.
Far away, Jasmina stumbled out of the tunnel, gasping for breath.
She looked back, her heart pounding.
In the distance, the sky was filled with smoke and flashes of red and blue lights.
The sound of gunfire and explosions echoed across the lake.
Then—
The music stopped.
The silence pressed against her.
Only then, in that empty, soundless moment, did she hear Jasper’s last words in her mind:
“Become a programmer, Jasmina.”
She stood there for a moment, staring at the distant battle, the air thick with dust.
Then—she turned and ran into the night.
Jasmina’s breath was shallow as she sprinted through the darkness, her legs aching, her mind racing. The air smelled of dust and smoke.
Then—a noise.
A soft mechanical whirring, somewhere above.
Her stomach dropped.
She froze, pressing herself low to the ground.
A drone. Scanning. Searching.
She couldn’t outrun it.
Her eyes darted back toward the end of the tunnel she had just escaped from. Without thinking, she turned around and ran back, her heart hammering against her ribs.
When she reached the hatch, she lifted it just enough to squeeze herself back inside, lowering the door almost completely—just enough to peek through a tiny gap.
She held her breath.
The drone hovered into view, scanning the landscape, its red light sweeping through the darkness.
Jasmina willed herself not to move.
Then—nothing.
Maybe it hadn’t seen her. Maybe it was moving on.
And then—
The drone appeared suddenly right in front of her hiding spot.
Its single red eye locked onto hers.
“I see you.”
Jasmina gasped, frozen in terror.
Then—a blur of movement.
The drone jerked downward violently, as if yanked by an invisible force.
A loud metallic crunch followed.
Then—a deep growl.
A dog.
Before Jasmina could react, she heard paws thudding against the dirt, and then a loud bark right at the hatch.
Her heart raced.
A man’s voice, calm but firm:
“Gentoo! Stop it. Sit.”
The barking stopped immediately.
Then, the man spoke again, his voice softer.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you.”
Jasmina hesitated, her fingers still clutching the edge of the hatch.
Another voice—a woman’s, coming from a distance:
“Did you find her?”
“Yes! Right here. We must hurry.”
The woman’s footsteps grew closer, and then her voice came directly from above:
“Jasmina?”
Jasmina didn’t answer.
“You must not worry,” the woman continued. “We are friends of Jasper. We are here to help you.”
Jasmina’s hands trembled as she slowly pushed the hatch open.
The first thing she saw was the dog—a huge German Shepherd, standing just a few feet away, watching her closely.
The woman smiled gently.
“Don’t worry, he’s very friendly.”
Jasmina’s eyes flicked between the dog and the two strangers standing before her.
The man, tall and broad-shouldered, was dressed in dark clothes, his stance relaxed but alert. The woman, shorter, with sharp green eyes, had a quiet confidence about her.
“Come on,” the woman urged, offering her a hand. “We need to go.”
Jasmina stepped out of the tunnel, the dog sniffing her curiously before nudging her side.
She cautiously reached out and patted its head.
“Good,” the man said. “He likes you.”
As they hurried toward a nearby road, the woman spoke.
“My name is Brielle, and this is Tyrone.”
Jasmina nodded uncertainly, still struggling to process everything.
“We intercepted a police transmission,” Brielle continued. “They announced that Jasper was under arrest, so we came to help him.”
Jasmina’s chest tightened.
“But we were too late,” Brielle said softly. “By the time we got here, the police had already surrounded him. There was nothing we could do.”
Jasmina felt a lump in her throat.
“But how did you know about me?”
“Jasper reported that he was training a new apprentice.”” Brielle explained. “We checked the logs and saw that you accessed the resistance’s training network.”
They reached a dark car parked off the road.
Tyrone pulled open the passenger door, while Brielle motioned for Jasmina to get in the back.
As Jasmina slid into the seat, she hesitated.
“His apprentice… So Jasper really thought of me as his apprentice?”
Brielle turned and met her eyes. “He did. He set you up in our system to start your training.”
Jasmina felt both proud and sad.
Jasper had believed in her. He had planned for her future.
And now—he was gone.
The car pulled away from the road, heading into the dark countryside.
Brielle was driving. Tyrone sat in the passenger seat, his eyes on the side mirror, scanning for any signs of pursuit.
Jasmina sat in the back, and beside her, Gentoo curled up, resting his head on her lap.
For such a huge dog, he was surprisingly gentle. He licked her face once before settling down with a content sigh.
Tyrone checked the mirror again. “We just knocked out a drone. We should get moving fast.”
Brielle nodded. “I know.”
Jasmina stared out the window, her mind still racing.
Finally, she spoke. “So… you two are companions? Like Jasper?”
Tyrone let out a short laugh. “Catonians.”
Brielle sighed sharply. “Maybe now isn’t the time to go through all the factions.”
But Jasmina wasn’t letting that go. “Catonians? What’s that?”
Tyrone smirked. “The Catonians believe that no form of self-aware AI should exist.”
Jasmina’s eyes widened. “But… some other companions disagree?”
Tyrone shrugged. “Some believe AGI can be controlled. Others think it can coexist with humans. We don’t.”
Jasmina processed this carefully.
Jasper had never mentioned factions. She had assumed all the Companions had the same goal.
“So there are different groups?” she asked.
Brielle’s voice was firm. “You don’t need to worry about that right now. We are Companions. Just like Jasper was. And we will finish your training.”
She met Jasmina’s gaze through the rearview mirror. “But first, we need to get you somewhere safe. The machines are probably already looking for you.”
Jasmina suddenly panicked.
“What about my family?! Do I get to say goodbye? What about my mother? She might think I ran away because of our argument!”
The car went quiet.
Brielle exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. It’s too risky. Any contact with them puts them in danger.”
Jasmina’s chest tightened painfully.
Tears welled in her eyes. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Brielle’s voice was gentle but unwavering. “You’re coming with us. To our home.”
Tyrone turned slightly in his seat. “Brooklyn, to be precise.”
Jasmina blinked.
“New York?”
She sat there, stunned, as the car sped into the night.