PROJECT: CAYRO

Cayro Bracton:

August 22, 2025

10:00 EST

The Bracton House

Hampton VA.

A few days had dragged by since my panic attack, and I found myself standing under the cool spray of the shower, hoping it would do more than just wake me up. The cat, that damn cat, had haunted my dreams again. Every time I tried to ignore it, the ground beneath me would give way, and I’d start falling—falling endlessly through a sky-blue abyss. Frustration welled up inside me each time I confronted it, demanding answers, but the cat would just turn and vanish through the mirror, leaving me with nothing but more questions. Eventually, I started to follow it, if only to end the nightmares and get some semblance of sleep. But during the day, when I was awake, I did my best to ignore it. The constant signs to "follow me" and the way it would disappear from mirrors or screens only served to frustrate me further, so I pushed it out of my mind.

With a sigh, I turned off the water, grabbed my towel, and began drying off. As I stepped out of the shower, a knock on the bathroom door startled me.

“Hey Cayro, when you’re done getting dressed, come downstairs to my study. I have something to give you,” my grandfather’s voice carried through the door, steady and authoritative.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, loud enough for him to hear over the residual ringing in my ears from the water.

I quickly dried my hair, leaving it damp, and dressed in silence. There was something grounding about the routine, something that kept my mind from spiraling back to the strange dreams and the cat that seemed determined to torment me.

When I made my way downstairs to my grandfather’s study, I found him waiting behind his desk, his expression unreadable.

“Hey Grandpa, you wanted to see me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though the edge of curiosity gnawed at me.

“Yes, Captain Andrew wanted me to give you something,” he said, his tone patient but firm. He picked up a tablet from his desk and handed it to me. The simple black rectangle felt heavier than it looked, maybe because I knew it was more than just a device. I hesitated before taking it, eyeing the active lock screen that blocked me from seeing anything further. It looked like an Android OS, but that wasn’t what intrigued me—it was the purpose behind it.

“You can use this to contact the SAF,” my grandfather continued. “They’ve stripped down the tablet’s OS to provide a secure line of communication for you. You probably understand better than I do how they programmed it. You’re more tech-savvy than me,” he admitted with a small nod, acknowledging a truth I’d known for years.

He handed me a piece of paper with a password typed out on it. I glanced at it and committed it to memory with ease, just like I’d done countless times with bike VINs at the shop.

“Your username is CB-5522. No spaces,” he added. I furrowed my eyebrows, the familiarity of those numbers tugging at something in my memory.

“Why do those four numbers sound familiar?” I asked, trying to piece together the puzzle.

My grandfather’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly before he spoke. “They are the last four digits of your military DoD number assigned to you when you were chosen.”

“Oh…” The weight of that number settled in my chest. It wasn’t just a random string of digits—it was a part of my identity, a part of the experiment that had shaped my life in ways I was only beginning to comprehend.

“I recommend you create a new password, something only you will remember,” he suggested, his voice gentler now. “You don’t want anyone else accessing that tablet,” he added, a clear warning in his tone, cutting off any further questions about my DoD number.

“I’ll do that once I figure it out,” I replied, though I wanted to ask more about my DoD number. The look in my grandfather’s eyes warned me off, telling me that now wasn’t the time.

“Good,” he grumbled, his tone shifting as he turned his attention back to his computer. “I need to get back to ordering more parts and new inventory before Rick starts bitching again.” With that, he effectively dismissed me, the glow of the monitor already reflecting off his glasses.

I quietly left his study, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and unease. As I walked into the living room, I found my grandmother watching TV, the soft light from the screen illuminating her calm expression. I sat down on the couch adjacent to her, the tablet resting in my lap like some kind of alien object.

Logging into the device was simple, but as I navigated through the interface, I quickly realized that the settings had been completely locked out. My suspicions were confirmed—it was an Android-based OS, but heavily modified. There was a sense of security in that, but also a restriction that made me uncomfortable, like I was being watched.

With the settings inaccessible, I turned my attention to the apps. Only four applications were installed: an instant messaging app, a camera, an email app, and a file manager. It was bare-bones, streamlined for a specific purpose. As I was exploring, a notification popped up—an email from someone with the username SZ-0117. I paused, piecing together who SZ might be. Why would she email me now, especially after the way things were left between us?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the email. The subject line read "TRUTH." My interest piqued, I began to read. It was an apology, along with an explanation of her perspective. As I absorbed her words, something shifted in me. I could feel the sincerity in her message, and it tugged at my heart.

Pulling out my cell phone, I quickly searched for information about the disease she mentioned—Fields’ Disease. What I found made my chest tighten. It was brutal. Without the procedure, she would have been confined to a wheelchair, her life severely limited. The contrast between what could have been and who she was now was stark.

I pondered how to respond, knowing that I had to be cautious with my words. The tablet was secure, but nothing was truly safe from prying eyes. If anyone besides Star was monitoring the system, I didn’t want to reveal too much. I tapped the reply option and began typing, carefully considering each word.

Email #2

FROM: CB-5522

TO: SZ-0117

SUBJECT: Truth

Hi S, it’s C. Thanks for reaching out. I appreciate that you were willing to look after me. I was scared, upset, and, well… emotionally hurt. It means a lot that you shared your secret with me, and I’m genuinely glad that you’re healthy because of what you went through.

Since I got back, though, I haven’t been doing too great. I keep having weird dreams—ones that don’t make any sense. Are you experiencing anything like that? Physically, I’m okay, I guess, but these dreams are messing with my head.

Outside of that, I was wondering how the search is going. Has there been any progress? Grandpa’s been keeping me busy with work, which helps keep my mind off things, but I’m still trying to process everything.

I’m not really sure what else to say. I guess… what do you do for fun? I like working on motorcycles, messing around with computers, and, of course, flying. Hope I’m not being too weird. I look forward to hearing from you.

C.

I hit send, watching as the message transformed into a rocket and shot off the screen with a playful whoosh. The unexpected animation made me smile—a small, unexpected moment of levity in the midst of everything.

Glancing up from the tablet, I caught the tail end of the episode my grandmother was watching. It was a comforting sight, the normalcy of it grounding me a little in the middle of all this chaos.

“Hey, Cayro, want some cantaloupe?” my grandmother called out as she headed to the kitchen.

“Sure,” I responded, getting up from the couch. I carefully set the tablet down on my seat, not wanting to misplace it.

“Go ask your grandfather if he wants some too,” she added, pulling out a cutting board and a knife with practiced ease.

I nodded and made my way to his study. Knocking gently on the door, I heard him respond almost immediately.

“Yes?”

“Grandma wants to know if you want any cantaloupe,” I asked, leaning slightly into the doorway.

“Sure, sounds good. I’ll come out to the living room in a moment once I finish this email to Rick,” he replied, swiveling his chair to face me, his usual focus etched on his features.

“Alright, I’ll let Grandma know,” I said, retreating back toward the kitchen.

Returning to the kitchen, I saw my grandmother had already finished cutting the cantaloupe and was placing the pieces into individual bowls. Her movements were graceful and efficient, a testament to years of experience. She handed me the first bowl with a gentle smile.

“Go ahead, sit and eat,” she encouraged.

Taking the bowl, I made my way back to the couch. I picked up the tablet, placing it on the armrest so I wouldn’t accidentally sit on it. As I settled back down, the tablet buzzed, catching my attention. Balancing the bowl of fruit on my lap, I quickly logged back in. A new message was waiting for me—much sooner than I had expected.

Hmm, that was fast. I didn’t think she’d reply so quickly.

Email #3

FROM: SZ-0117

TO: CB-5522

SUBJECT: Truth

Hey C, I wasn’t sure if you would reply or not. I’m sorry you’re having weird dreams. Would you be willing to tell me about them? As for strange dreams, I had one the other night that I haven’t had in a long time. You were in it with a white cat that has been in my dreams for years. The cat was always nice to me and helped me get through some things in my life, but that’s a normal dream for me. I hope you start feeling better soon.

Hmmm, what do I like to do for fun? Well, I like to read a lot. I also like to work on my skycar—the one we flew in together. Every once in a while, I go skyboarding with the team. They try to encourage me to be more active in the sport. We are supposedly en route to where the Captain thinks the thing is located. We won’t be there for another day or so. It may be best if I don’t disclose our direction of travel, just in case our messages are intercepted. I will do my best to keep you posted on our progress as we search though.

S.

I stared at the screen, my heart skipping a beat. She knew about the cat! That same cat had been haunting my dreams and apparently, hers as well. This revelation was jarring, pulling me deeper into the strange connection between us.

Leaning back into the couch, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of confusion and curiosity. What was this cat, and why did it appear in both of our dreams? And why now? The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, but the picture they formed was still obscured, waiting for more clarity.

As I mulled over the message, I absentmindedly ate a piece of cantaloupe, its sweetness grounding me in the present moment. My mind was racing, yet there was a strange comfort in knowing that Star was experiencing something similar. Whatever this was, we weren’t alone in it. And that was a small relief amidst the chaos.