Part 68
One afternoon,
I decided to activate our deep-monitoring relay,
just to observe the state of the world we left behind.
I bypassed our main servers,
using an isolated,
one-way satellite link that could receive data without broadcasting our position.
The news feeds were a chaotic mess of economic collapse,
political theater,
and systemic corruption.
The very institutions we had compromised were still struggling to explain the massive,
overnight disappearance of their secret funds.
They blamed algorithmic errors,
vague cyber-terrorists,
and rogue nation-states,
never realizing it was the work of two people who simply wanted to be free.
The major banks were tightening their controls,
implementing more surveillance on ordinary citizens,
foolishly believing that control was the answer to security.
They didn't understand that the more they tightened their grip,
the more easily people like us would slip through their fingers.
Khloe walked into the monitoring room,
carrying a tray with a small pot of herbal tea and two delicate porcelain cups.
She glanced at the flickering screens,
her expression turning into one of mild amusement and slight pity.
"They are still running in circles,"
she observed,
setting the tray down on the desk next to the glowing monitors.
"They will always run in circles,"
I said,
shutting down the feed with a single,
decisive motion,
the screens going dark instantly.
"Because they are fighting to preserve a broken illusion,
while we are living in the truth,"
she added,
handing me a warm cup of tea.
The contrast between the frantic chaos on those screens and the absolute peace of our home was staggering.
We were only a few thousand miles away from their financial capitals,
yet we existed in an entirely different dimension of reality.
We walked back out to the sun-drenched terrace,
leaving the dead screens behind us in the dark room.
Our son was playing with a small wooden tractor I had carved for him,
pushing it through the dirt with serious determination.
The puppy ran alongside the toy,
barking softly at the spinning wheels,
treating it like a real machine.
Khloe sat down in the grass,
careless of her linen trousers,
joining our son in his imaginary farming world.
She laughed as he handed her a handful of dry dirt,
pretending it was a rare,
precious treasure.
In a way,
it was the most precious treasure on earth,
untainted by greed,
unmarked by the ledger of the banks.
I watched them from the steps,
taking a slow sip of the warm tea,
feeling the deep sun penetrate my skin.
The old world could burn itself down in its own madness,
but our valley would remain green,
May you like
our family would remain safe,
and our freedom would remain absolute.
