The Sky Beyond the Walls by Karl Hyppolite
In a world where language is paywalled, Elias longs to be able to tell his daughter a story he loved as a child.
Elias leaned back against the worn headboard, the glow of the StoryKeep app painting Maya's face in soft blue light.
"Can we read it, Daddy?" she asked, her curls spilling across the pillow, voice heavy with drowsiness. "The one you said was your favorite when you were a kid."
He scrolled, a knot tightening in his stomach. This wouldn't be the story he'd known as a boy. Why had he even mentioned The Sky Beyond the Walls?
Elias clicked the thumbnail for The Sky Beyond the Walls and cleared his throat.
Once, there was a little songbird who lived in a garden surrounded by high stone walls. Every day, she sang songs about the things she could see: the red roses climbing the wall, the clear fountain in the middle, the shadows that danced at sunset.
Her songs filled the garden with joy, and the other birds praised her. But after many seasons, she grew tired. She had sung of every flower, every fountain, every shadow.
One morning, she looked up at the wall and asked her mother and father, "What lies beyond it? I want to see the sky past these stones. I want to sing new songs."
Her parents hushed her gently. "No one goes beyond the wall," her father said. "The wall keeps us safe."
Mama bird added softly, "There is nothing you need beyond it. Everything worth singing is here."
But the little bird tilted her head. She had heard whispers in the breeze, notes she could not name. She longed to follow them.
Elias's screen flickered, and text overlaid the page beneath a bright VoxPass logo.
Maya looked up at him expectantly. Elias couldn't afford it. Not for a bedtime story. But he couldn't leave Maya hanging. He'd have to wing it and make up an ending using approved language.
"So the little bird stayed in the garden. She sang the old songs again and again, until she remembered why they were her favorite. And the bird was happy, because she never needed anything more than her garden."
Maya frowned. "That doesn't sound right." Elias hesitated, guilt curling in his chest. He brushed a curl from her forehead and laid a kiss on her. "I'm sorry, baby. Maybe next time. Goodnight. Love you."
"Aww..." Maya whined slightly. "Goodnight, Daddy."
Elias tucked her in, and the unfinished story hung heavy in the room.
Elias noticed the glow of the bedroom television spill into the hallway. Nadine must have gone to the bedroom to watch TV before bed.
"And VoxPass continues its climb, nearly doubling in value since its IPO a decade ago," one anchor said. "Shareholders must be loving the look of their portfolios tonight."
The segment cut to commercial with a bright chime. "VoxPass: Your Voice. Your Choice. With you 24/7."
Elias scoffed at the television as it changed to another ad.
"Low on Credits? We get it! At NexMart, you never have to wait for tomorrow. Stock your pantry today with our Live First, Pay Later™ plan."
"She asleep?" Nadine asked as Elias grabbed a towel from the closet, getting ready for a shower. "That was kind of a quick bedtime tuck."
"Yeah, well... no," Elias replied. "Had to cut the story short. It was The Sky Beyond the Walls. Couldn't finish. It's got a premium language paywall."
A jingle followed, upbeat and sugary: "NexMart - filling hearts, not ledgers!"
Nadine muted the TV. "Oh. So did you just stop reading?"
"Nah, I made up an ending on the spot," Elias answered, frustration in his voice. "Sucked though. I shouldn't have brought that story up."
Nadine straightened. "I get it. I remember reading stories like that under the covers with a flashlight. Plus, It was your favorite when you were little. When I was pregnant with Maya, your mama - Estelle - told me you asked for that one every night."
"Yeah," Elias said with resignation in his voice. "It's just... I... I wish -"
Nadine shook her head, as if already knowing, but he'd turned toward the bathroom and flicked on the light.
"I wish I could read my kid a damn book without checking into some asshole's app," he muttered, frustration thick in his voice. "If I wanna read my kid a story about a bird that wants to sing - it's... this is fuckin' freedom?"
The screen flickered and a pale blue VoxPass logo pulsed at the center with a message underneath:
"Damn it," Elias groaned. "They might auto debit me for that one regardless."
"Yeah..." Nadine said, clicking the TV off. Her voice was quiet. "But you're right. We'll figure it out."
The hum of the VoxPass Union City office floor was a quiet storm of keystrokes. Everyone in the Greater States worked for VoxPass one way or another, and Elias settled into the day with a warm cup of coffee in-hand.
He'd need the caffeine cause was about to spend the next nine hours editing unsafe and unprofitable language out of stories, scripts, ads, and news feeds.
As his screen loaded, the sharp black "V" split across the pale blue circle - the old Vox logo, edges jagged before the design was rounded into friendlier curves. His training instructor's voice came back to him: "Words aren't just words. They're equity. Speech should benefit the States, because benefitting the States means equity for investors, which means more opportunity for us all."
Elias opened an article on post-storm recovery. A line about frustration with food prices - gone. A complaint about delayed aid - gone. He replaced them with praise for VoxPass' "disaster response messaging initiative."
"What is anyone really saying if their words don't benefit the State? It's a waste of breath." The memory pressed on as he submitted his changes.
Elias clicked "confirm changes" then "submit" and moved on to the next article. It was a puff piece about VoxPass' recent earnings, headlined: VoxPass Q3 Earnings Soar: A Stronger Future for the Greater States. He dug into the article, and it was a perfect piece:
"With another record breaking quarter, VoxPass has reaffirmed its role as the cornerstone of prosperity in the Greater States. Shareholder confidence has translated directly into new jobs, expanded word access programs, and the highest morale ratings since national tracking began."
Elias' old instructor's words rang in his head even louder: "VoxPass gives people the opportunity to choose how they drive equity: through their words or with their credits. That's freedom of speech."
He leaned back and clicked 'submit with no changes.'
All that had sounded like bullshit even then. But he'd passed his training exam and taken the job. Bullshit paid the rent.
Elias worked quietly until lunchtime when he packed up his pullover duffle with his lunch and work tablet inside, and made for the break room.
The breakroom smelled faintly of burnt coffee and reheated noodles. Elias sat in the corner with his sandwich, scrolling half heartedly through the day's edits on his tablet.
At the next table, two coworkers leaned close over their lunches, their voices low.
"...got the uncut edition. No subscription renewals, no premium tiers. Just a one time drop."
The other snorted softly. "Bullshit. They track every word outside of these walls."
"Not if you know where to go. Market's tight, but if you've got the credits, they'll give you access. Whole archives. Stuff Vox stripped or paywalled years ago."
A pause, then a laugh to cover it. "Dangerous, though. That kind of content gets flagged."
"Not if you do it right," the first one said, grinning, "worth it if you like good shit. Real movies. Real stories."
They went quiet as someone else walked in. Elias kept his eyes on his sandwich, but his pulse had quickened. The real ending. Could he get it? The thought lingered in Elias' head long after the conversation had stopped. The idea hooked into him, sharp and barbed, refusing to let go. He could almost see Maya's face again, the way her brow had furrowed when he'd freestyled the ending with safe language.
He'd heard whispers about this type of thing before. Rumors about an Echo Market tucked into the poor neighborhoods where Vox hadn't bothered to invest. The slums had no shareholders, and most couldn't afford VoxPass subs anyway. If he took a detour after work... maybe he could find one?
He'd have to tell Nadine he had an errand and would be home a little late.
Union City Police would be the real risk. They were basically VoxPass employees too and usually had a heavier presence in Union City's rougher neighborhoods to fill the digital VoxPass gap.
Elias would have to keep his head down. Even if he managed to find the Echo Market, even if he could get a complete copy of The Sky Beyond the Walls. Saying the wrong words in front of a cop could cost him more than credits.
Elias worked quietly through the end of the day, then hastily gathered his things once the clock flipped to 5:30pm.
The sun was sinking as he stepped out of the Vox offices into Union City greeted by a chorus of honking horns and workers jostling shoulder to shoulder along the crowded sidewalks.
He walked toward a row of identical white GlideShare cars, each one plastered with cheerful sponsorship decals: NexMart: Filling Hearts, Not Ledgers! ... LiveWell Housing: Rent Today, Rest Tonight.
Elias pulled out his phone and tapped it against the small screen on the curb. PAYMENT ACCEPTED flashed in green letters. The nearest GlideShare hummed awake, its doors unlocking as he pulled one open and slid into the driver's seat.
He didn't own a car - hardly anyone did anymore. They were luxuries now, unless you had an ancient model you knew how to keep running. GlideShares were cheaper, easier, and powered by Vox.
Rush hour swallowed Union City as Elias slid into the GlideShare, its dashboard glowing the pale blue VoxPass logo. The city rose around him in perfect symmetry: glass towers, wraparound screens, every façade alive with color-drenched ads.
A corporate anthem hummed faintly from hidden speakers, blending with the automated crosswalk reminder: "Move Forward. Stay Safe. Build Equity." Elias stared out at the crowd who mostly wore gray and navy uniforms with faces lit by billboards.
But as the towers thinned and the corporate glow receded, the signs of Southpoint began to press in. The streets narrowed, potholes breaking through the polished grid. The GlideShare's AI chirped a warning: "Entering a low equity zone. Proceed with caution."
Here, the billboards were older, some half dimmed with their screens cracked or flickering. Murals sprawled across brick walls where Vox hadn't paid to cover them, painted in bright defiance: fists, faces, fragments of slogans that hadn't made it through the censors. Storefronts leaned shoulder to shoulder, their windows full of hand lettered signs and paper flyers instead of AR projections.
And the sound was everywhere. A bassline thudded from a corner club, its pulse bleeding into the street. Down the block, a group of teenagers shouted along to a scratchy punk track spilling from a speaker. From an open window above, the rolling rhythm of a Caribbean drumline tangled with the sharp edge of a hip hop verse.
Elias hadn't been back to a neighborhood like this since he was a kid. The city here smelled like fried food and car exhaust instead of sterilizers. He lowered the window for the first time and let the air hit his face.
Southpoint was worn but full of life in a way Union City could never be. And that's despite living under constant eye of the UCP. Elias caught the pale blue flash of a cruiser speeding past with a VoxPass logo shining brightly along the side.
Elias pulled into a narrow slot along the curb and thumbed out a quick message to Nadine: I'll be home around 7. Had to run an errand. Love you. Then, he switched his phone off. Better not to let Vox listen in if he got lucky and found the Echo Market.
On the corner, a vendor fanned the smoke off a flat top grill stacked with tacos, and further down he caught the buttery, spiced scent of Jamaican patties. His stomach leapt and his mind went back to when his mom used to buy them for him on Sundays when they scraped together a little extra. Maybe he could bring some home for Nadine and Maya along with the real ending of The Sky Beyond the Walls.
A siren whooped, short and sharp, snapping him out of the memory. Blue lights washed over the street. A Union City Police cruiser idled across from him, pale VoxPass logos bright against the dusk. The motto stitched beneath the badge gleamed in the streetlight: Protecting & Serving Community Equity Since 2031.
"Just sit tight right there, pal," the officer's voice crackled through the intercom.
The cruiser door hissed open. The officer stepped out, smoothing the patch on his chest as he approached.
"GlideRide, huh?" He glanced at the rental parked behind Elias. "Not many folks from Union City come down here unless they've got business. You got business?"
Elias kept his face calm. "Yeah. Just came for some good food."
"There's no good food in the rest of Union City?" the officer asked. "Plenty of good spots in better places than this."
"You know what they say," Elias answered. "Nothing like southern cooking."
"This ain't the south that saying's about," the officer replied, as silence hung over them. The officer studied him, eyes narrowing as if weighing how much Elias was worth.
Elias swallowed. "Can I go?" His pulse thudded in his throat. The officer's smile didn't move his eyes.
"Just seems like you've got business here, don't you? I've got a good idea what. So, show Union City how much you value Community Equity." His words felt like a trap. A bribe.
Just pay the man, Elias thought to himself. And he'll let you be on your way. Elias's hand shook slightly as he powered his phone back on.
"50 will do."
Elias held his phone to the officer's own phone. TRANSFER COMPLETE pulsed across the screen. This detour was getting expensive.
The officer clicked his tongue, satisfied. "Pleasure doing business with you, Elias," he said.
The officer got back into his cruiser and sped away, and the flow of traffic eased back into its restless rhythm. Elias kept walking, following the buttery, spiced scent that tugged at his memory.
It led him to a narrow corner bakery with fogged up windows and a hand taped sign that read:
Eko's Eats, "A Market & Shop Feeding Southpoint Since 2015."
The sign wasn't neon or digital, just a thick flyer printed in bright colors, curling a little at the edges. Through the glass, he saw a few mismatched tables, their paint worn smooth by years of use. A Jamaican flag hung proudly on the wall, its colors vivid against the peeling plaster.
He pushed the door open, and a tinny bell chimed overhead. Warm air wrapped around him, thick with the scent of fresh patties, fried dumplings, and sweet bread just out of the oven. A radio on the counter played an old reggae track, its bassline rolling low beneath the clatter of pans from the back.
For a moment, Elias almost forgot why he'd come here. It reminded him of home and places Mom would have brought him after church for a treat.
A wiry older man with dark skin, shaved head, and a gray beard walked out from the back of the shop and to the counter in front of the digital register and a speaker that was blaring old school reggae.
"Hey, my friend," the old shopkeeper said. "Welcome to Eko's. I am Eko. G'wan and tell me what ya want."
Elias nodded, eyed the selection, then spoke, "Thanks, brother," Elias said, his eyes grazing over curry, jerk chicken, oxtail, and mac and cheese. "Six patties... to go."
Eko grabbed a large brown paper bag and tongs and carefully picked six patties out of the heated display case, then eyed Elias.
"That'd be 12 credits, friend," Eko said. "But my eyes think you're looking hungry. Want somethin' more? No combo plate for ya? Or a neighborhood story? Both is what Eko's known for."
"Nah, I've spent enough today," Elias answered, pulling out his phone to scan to pay, then turning it off again when the payment cleared. "I am looking for something else but I don't think it's here."
Eko eyed Elias as he handed him the brown paper bag, then turned the volume up on the speaker beside the register.
"If ya lookin' for Eko, you found Echo," the man whispered, glancing toward the window.
A look of realization swam across Elias's face and the reggae beat suddenly felt louder and not loud enough. He looked Eko in the eyes just as the man raised a finger to his lips.
"What ya lookin' for, friend?" Eko asked him after pulling Elias away from the register with the speaker blaring beside it.
"A children's story," Elias said in a hushed tone. "The Sky Beyond the Walls. I just need the words at the end."
"I'm no bookkeeper," Eko responded lowly. "I don' keep the words. But I can give you the clearance. Premium tongue, yes?"
Eko reached into his pocket, pulled out what looked like a tiny zip drive, and handed it to him.
"Eko works on the honor system," he continued. "Leave this shop and transfer 75 credits when ya turn on ya phone. Then go home, put the zip in ya device. Premium tongue is unlocked."
Elias took the zip drive and nodded, leaving Eko's without speaking another word.
"Take care, friend," Eko said, as Elias opened the door. "May the words help ya find what ya seek."
"Daddy!" Maya yelled as Elias opened the door. "We missed you!"
Nadine gave him a hard look - the kind that asked for an explanation without a word. It was already 7:45, and traffic back from Southpoint had been brutal.
"Yes, we did," Nadine said. "And we've already eaten dinner, too."
Elias raised his hands in apology, his eyes soft. "Perfect. Because Daddy brought a snack." He pulled two Jamaican patties from the bag, handing one to each of them.
Maya bit in and let out a muffled "Mmmm." Nadine's expression softened as she took her first bite.
"Why didn't you ever give me one of these before?" Maya asked through a mouthful. "It's yummy."
Nadine nodded. "I haven't had one since I was a kid. Didn't think they still made them like this. Where'd you get them?"
Elias paused, chewing. "Southpoint. That's why I'm late."
Nadine's eyes widened. "Southpoint? Why?"
"It's not as bad as they say," Elias answered quickly. "It's the UCP you've got to watch for. But there's real culture there. Feels alive."
Nadine studied him, suspicion in her eyes. Elias squeezed her hand gently. "I got another surprise for Maya too. But only after brushing teeth and jammies."
Maya's eyes lit up. She stuffed the last of her patty into her mouth and bolted toward the bathroom.
Nadine lingered. "Elias... is everything okay? Is that really the only reason you're late?"
He held her gaze. "Yeah. Went to Southpoint for the patties - and something else. Let's put her to bed together tonight."
Minutes later, the three of them squeezed into Maya's bed, her curls brushing their arms as Elias set his tablet on his lap.
"We're going to read The Sky Beyond the Walls tonight," he said softly. "The real thing." He slid a small zip drive into the side of the device.
Nadine's eyes widened. Maya let out a cheer. Elias tapped the thumbnail, cleared his throat, and began.
Once, there was a little songbird who lived in a garden surrounded by high stone walls. Every day, she sang songs about the things she could see: the red roses climbing the wall, the clear fountain in the middle, the shadows that danced at sunset.
Her songs filled the garden with joy, and the other birds praised her. But after many seasons, she grew tired. She had sung of every flower, every fountain, every shadow.
One morning, she looked up at the wall and asked her mother and father, "What lies beyond it? I want to see the sky past these stones. I want to sing new songs."
Her parents hushed her gently. "No one goes beyond the wall," her father said. "The wall keeps us safe."
Mama bird added softly, "There is nothing you need beyond it. Everything worth singing is here."
But the little bird tilted her head. She had heard whispers in the breeze, notes she could not name. She longed to follow them.
Elias paused. This was where the story had been blocked before. No notification flashed across the screen. Only silence - taut, waiting.
"Daddy, what else?" Maya whispered. "We gotta know what happens next."
So the little bird waited until the garden slept. With a beat of her wings, she rose into the dark and found a crack in the wall where the stones had loosened. She slipped through and felt the wind lift her higher than she had ever flown.
Beyond the walls, the world stretched wide and wild. She saw rivers that flashed silver under the moon, forests so deep they whispered secrets, and mountains whose peaks glittered like the stars themselves. She sang of the rivers, and her song flowed clear and bright. She sang of the forests, and her song grew deep and strong. She sang of the mountains, and her song rang proud and true.
When she returned to the garden, the other birds gathered close. They had never heard songs like hers - songs that tasted of sky and smelled of pine, songs that carried the sound of waters rushing and the sight of stars burning. "Where did you learn them?" they asked.
The little bird lifted her head. "Beyond the walls."
For a moment, the garden was silent. Then one by one, the birds spread their wings. Some squeezed through the crack she had found; others flew higher, testing the stones themselves. Soon the air was alive with new songs - not all the same, but each their own, each shaped by what they saw.
And the garden was never quiet again.
"Again, again!" Maya exclaimed, eyes bright. "Why don't they tell us stories like this at school?"
Elias didn't answer that and just read it once more. Once again, the tablet didn't stop them when they reached the Premium Language.
"OK, last time," Nadine said, smiling gently. "Bed now, little bird." They each kissed her forehead before slipping out quietly.
"You really found it," Nadine whispered, wonder in her voice. "Without the -"
Elias nodded, setting the tablet on the table. He grabbed another patty, bit into it, and said softly, "Yeah. Gonna have to go there again."
The words were still on his lips when three deafening bangs rattled the door. The sound tore through the quiet like gunshots.
"Union City Police!" a voice barked. "Open up. Now." Nadine's eyes widened. Elias's breath skipped and body locked for a heartbeat, then he moved quickly toward the door. He barely had it open before the officer from Southpoint shoved him back inside, sending Nadine stumbling.
"Wait - what is this?" Nadine cried, catching herself. "You can't do this! We have a kid here."
The officer forced Elias to the floor, snapping the cuffs around his wrists as he recited, "Yes I can, and you both have the right to remain silent. Any words spoken will be logged, reviewed for equity compliance, and may be used in proceedings against you."
He stopped mid sentence, spotting the tablet. Lifting it with one gloved hand, he muttered flatly, "Evidence." His thumb swiped the screen.
"A Vox employee caught with pirated Premium Language access," he said coldly. "Fraudulent clearance for intellectual property considered costly to the Greater States. Serious stuff, Elias."
Elias struggled against the cuffs. "This is crazy - it's just a kid's story!"
"Words matter," the officer said, tucking the tablet under his arm as he hauled Elias upright. "Everyone knows that."
"Daddy..." Maya's small voice trembled from the hallway. Nadine turned first, scooping her close, tears slipping down her face. "What's happening?" Maya whispered.
Nadine held her tight. "It's going to be OK, sweetheart. Daddy will be back soon."
As the officer shoved him toward the hall, Elias twisted enough to see her curls in the dim light. "I'll be back soon, Maya," he called, his voice breaking. "It's going to be OK."
The officer gripped his shoulder harder. Elias spat, "It's just a kid's story. And I... paid you!"
The officer didn't even blink. "50 credits? Vox pays me more, fella. Now remain silent."
Elias turned back and saw Maya peering out of the doorway, her small hands gripping the frame. "Keep your head up, baby!" he shouted down the hall as neighbors' doors cracked open, faces peering out into the dim corridor. "Keep your head up."
The officer shoved him through the stairwell door. His voice vanished with the slam.
Maya stayed in the doorway, Nadine's arms tight around her. Her face was wet, but her chin lifted. Down the hall, the neighbors watched in silence.
Then Maya opened her mouth and began, very softly, "Once, there was a little songbird..."
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"Can we read it, Daddy?" she asked, her curls spilling across the pillow, voice heavy with drowsiness. "The one you said was your favorite when you were a kid."
He scrolled, a knot tightening in his stomach. This wouldn't be the story he'd known as a boy. Why had he even mentioned The Sky Beyond the Walls?
Elias clicked the thumbnail for The Sky Beyond the Walls and cleared his throat.
Once, there was a little songbird who lived in a garden surrounded by high stone walls. Every day, she sang songs about the things she could see: the red roses climbing the wall, the clear fountain in the middle, the shadows that danced at sunset.
Her songs filled the garden with joy, and the other birds praised her. But after many seasons, she grew tired. She had sung of every flower, every fountain, every shadow.
One morning, she looked up at the wall and asked her mother and father, "What lies beyond it? I want to see the sky past these stones. I want to sing new songs."
Her parents hushed her gently. "No one goes beyond the wall," her father said. "The wall keeps us safe."
Mama bird added softly, "There is nothing you need beyond it. Everything worth singing is here."
But the little bird tilted her head. She had heard whispers in the breeze, notes she could not name. She longed to follow them.
Elias's screen flickered, and text overlaid the page beneath a bright VoxPass logo.
Content Restricted Uh oh! Looks like you're stuck. The rest of this story contains Premium Language reserved for our valued Plus Members. Unlock the ending today for only 500 Credits. [Purchase Day Pass]
Maya looked up at him expectantly. Elias couldn't afford it. Not for a bedtime story. But he couldn't leave Maya hanging. He'd have to wing it and make up an ending using approved language.
"So the little bird stayed in the garden. She sang the old songs again and again, until she remembered why they were her favorite. And the bird was happy, because she never needed anything more than her garden."
Maya frowned. "That doesn't sound right." Elias hesitated, guilt curling in his chest. He brushed a curl from her forehead and laid a kiss on her. "I'm sorry, baby. Maybe next time. Goodnight. Love you."
"Aww..." Maya whined slightly. "Goodnight, Daddy."
Elias tucked her in, and the unfinished story hung heavy in the room.
Elias noticed the glow of the bedroom television spill into the hallway. Nadine must have gone to the bedroom to watch TV before bed.
"And VoxPass continues its climb, nearly doubling in value since its IPO a decade ago," one anchor said. "Shareholders must be loving the look of their portfolios tonight."
The segment cut to commercial with a bright chime. "VoxPass: Your Voice. Your Choice. With you 24/7."
Elias scoffed at the television as it changed to another ad.
"Low on Credits? We get it! At NexMart, you never have to wait for tomorrow. Stock your pantry today with our Live First, Pay Later™ plan."
"She asleep?" Nadine asked as Elias grabbed a towel from the closet, getting ready for a shower. "That was kind of a quick bedtime tuck."
"Yeah, well... no," Elias replied. "Had to cut the story short. It was The Sky Beyond the Walls. Couldn't finish. It's got a premium language paywall."
A jingle followed, upbeat and sugary: "NexMart - filling hearts, not ledgers!"
Nadine muted the TV. "Oh. So did you just stop reading?"
"Nah, I made up an ending on the spot," Elias answered, frustration in his voice. "Sucked though. I shouldn't have brought that story up."
Nadine straightened. "I get it. I remember reading stories like that under the covers with a flashlight. Plus, It was your favorite when you were little. When I was pregnant with Maya, your mama - Estelle - told me you asked for that one every night."
"Yeah," Elias said with resignation in his voice. "It's just... I... I wish -"
Nadine shook her head, as if already knowing, but he'd turned toward the bathroom and flicked on the light.
"I wish I could read my kid a damn book without checking into some asshole's app," he muttered, frustration thick in his voice. "If I wanna read my kid a story about a bird that wants to sing - it's... this is fuckin' freedom?"
The screen flickered and a pale blue VoxPass logo pulsed at the center with a message underneath:
What's The Word? We're with you 24/7 to ensure safe, meaningful conversations with the people you love. It looks like some of your recent speech included Unprotected Language. Don't worry - we've got you covered.
Violation ID: #4426 17 Unlock full access with a Premium Safety Pass for just 300 Credits today. Keep your home free, safe, and in sync with the world around you.
[ Upgrade Now ]
"Damn it," Elias groaned. "They might auto debit me for that one regardless."
"Yeah..." Nadine said, clicking the TV off. Her voice was quiet. "But you're right. We'll figure it out."
The hum of the VoxPass Union City office floor was a quiet storm of keystrokes. Everyone in the Greater States worked for VoxPass one way or another, and Elias settled into the day with a warm cup of coffee in-hand.
He'd need the caffeine cause was about to spend the next nine hours editing unsafe and unprofitable language out of stories, scripts, ads, and news feeds.
As his screen loaded, the sharp black "V" split across the pale blue circle - the old Vox logo, edges jagged before the design was rounded into friendlier curves. His training instructor's voice came back to him: "Words aren't just words. They're equity. Speech should benefit the States, because benefitting the States means equity for investors, which means more opportunity for us all."
Elias opened an article on post-storm recovery. A line about frustration with food prices - gone. A complaint about delayed aid - gone. He replaced them with praise for VoxPass' "disaster response messaging initiative."
"What is anyone really saying if their words don't benefit the State? It's a waste of breath." The memory pressed on as he submitted his changes.
Elias clicked "confirm changes" then "submit" and moved on to the next article. It was a puff piece about VoxPass' recent earnings, headlined: VoxPass Q3 Earnings Soar: A Stronger Future for the Greater States. He dug into the article, and it was a perfect piece:
"With another record breaking quarter, VoxPass has reaffirmed its role as the cornerstone of prosperity in the Greater States. Shareholder confidence has translated directly into new jobs, expanded word access programs, and the highest morale ratings since national tracking began."
Elias' old instructor's words rang in his head even louder: "VoxPass gives people the opportunity to choose how they drive equity: through their words or with their credits. That's freedom of speech."
He leaned back and clicked 'submit with no changes.'
All that had sounded like bullshit even then. But he'd passed his training exam and taken the job. Bullshit paid the rent.
Elias worked quietly until lunchtime when he packed up his pullover duffle with his lunch and work tablet inside, and made for the break room.
The breakroom smelled faintly of burnt coffee and reheated noodles. Elias sat in the corner with his sandwich, scrolling half heartedly through the day's edits on his tablet.
At the next table, two coworkers leaned close over their lunches, their voices low.
"...got the uncut edition. No subscription renewals, no premium tiers. Just a one time drop."
The other snorted softly. "Bullshit. They track every word outside of these walls."
"Not if you know where to go. Market's tight, but if you've got the credits, they'll give you access. Whole archives. Stuff Vox stripped or paywalled years ago."
A pause, then a laugh to cover it. "Dangerous, though. That kind of content gets flagged."
"Not if you do it right," the first one said, grinning, "worth it if you like good shit. Real movies. Real stories."
They went quiet as someone else walked in. Elias kept his eyes on his sandwich, but his pulse had quickened. The real ending. Could he get it? The thought lingered in Elias' head long after the conversation had stopped. The idea hooked into him, sharp and barbed, refusing to let go. He could almost see Maya's face again, the way her brow had furrowed when he'd freestyled the ending with safe language.
He'd heard whispers about this type of thing before. Rumors about an Echo Market tucked into the poor neighborhoods where Vox hadn't bothered to invest. The slums had no shareholders, and most couldn't afford VoxPass subs anyway. If he took a detour after work... maybe he could find one?
He'd have to tell Nadine he had an errand and would be home a little late.
Union City Police would be the real risk. They were basically VoxPass employees too and usually had a heavier presence in Union City's rougher neighborhoods to fill the digital VoxPass gap.
Elias would have to keep his head down. Even if he managed to find the Echo Market, even if he could get a complete copy of The Sky Beyond the Walls. Saying the wrong words in front of a cop could cost him more than credits.
Elias worked quietly through the end of the day, then hastily gathered his things once the clock flipped to 5:30pm.
The sun was sinking as he stepped out of the Vox offices into Union City greeted by a chorus of honking horns and workers jostling shoulder to shoulder along the crowded sidewalks.
He walked toward a row of identical white GlideShare cars, each one plastered with cheerful sponsorship decals: NexMart: Filling Hearts, Not Ledgers! ... LiveWell Housing: Rent Today, Rest Tonight.
Elias pulled out his phone and tapped it against the small screen on the curb. PAYMENT ACCEPTED flashed in green letters. The nearest GlideShare hummed awake, its doors unlocking as he pulled one open and slid into the driver's seat.
He didn't own a car - hardly anyone did anymore. They were luxuries now, unless you had an ancient model you knew how to keep running. GlideShares were cheaper, easier, and powered by Vox.
Rush hour swallowed Union City as Elias slid into the GlideShare, its dashboard glowing the pale blue VoxPass logo. The city rose around him in perfect symmetry: glass towers, wraparound screens, every façade alive with color-drenched ads.
A corporate anthem hummed faintly from hidden speakers, blending with the automated crosswalk reminder: "Move Forward. Stay Safe. Build Equity." Elias stared out at the crowd who mostly wore gray and navy uniforms with faces lit by billboards.
But as the towers thinned and the corporate glow receded, the signs of Southpoint began to press in. The streets narrowed, potholes breaking through the polished grid. The GlideShare's AI chirped a warning: "Entering a low equity zone. Proceed with caution."
Here, the billboards were older, some half dimmed with their screens cracked or flickering. Murals sprawled across brick walls where Vox hadn't paid to cover them, painted in bright defiance: fists, faces, fragments of slogans that hadn't made it through the censors. Storefronts leaned shoulder to shoulder, their windows full of hand lettered signs and paper flyers instead of AR projections.
And the sound was everywhere. A bassline thudded from a corner club, its pulse bleeding into the street. Down the block, a group of teenagers shouted along to a scratchy punk track spilling from a speaker. From an open window above, the rolling rhythm of a Caribbean drumline tangled with the sharp edge of a hip hop verse.
Elias hadn't been back to a neighborhood like this since he was a kid. The city here smelled like fried food and car exhaust instead of sterilizers. He lowered the window for the first time and let the air hit his face.
Southpoint was worn but full of life in a way Union City could never be. And that's despite living under constant eye of the UCP. Elias caught the pale blue flash of a cruiser speeding past with a VoxPass logo shining brightly along the side.
Elias pulled into a narrow slot along the curb and thumbed out a quick message to Nadine: I'll be home around 7. Had to run an errand. Love you. Then, he switched his phone off. Better not to let Vox listen in if he got lucky and found the Echo Market.
On the corner, a vendor fanned the smoke off a flat top grill stacked with tacos, and further down he caught the buttery, spiced scent of Jamaican patties. His stomach leapt and his mind went back to when his mom used to buy them for him on Sundays when they scraped together a little extra. Maybe he could bring some home for Nadine and Maya along with the real ending of The Sky Beyond the Walls.
A siren whooped, short and sharp, snapping him out of the memory. Blue lights washed over the street. A Union City Police cruiser idled across from him, pale VoxPass logos bright against the dusk. The motto stitched beneath the badge gleamed in the streetlight: Protecting & Serving Community Equity Since 2031.
"Just sit tight right there, pal," the officer's voice crackled through the intercom.
The cruiser door hissed open. The officer stepped out, smoothing the patch on his chest as he approached.
"GlideRide, huh?" He glanced at the rental parked behind Elias. "Not many folks from Union City come down here unless they've got business. You got business?"
Elias kept his face calm. "Yeah. Just came for some good food."
"There's no good food in the rest of Union City?" the officer asked. "Plenty of good spots in better places than this."
"You know what they say," Elias answered. "Nothing like southern cooking."
"This ain't the south that saying's about," the officer replied, as silence hung over them. The officer studied him, eyes narrowing as if weighing how much Elias was worth.
Elias swallowed. "Can I go?" His pulse thudded in his throat. The officer's smile didn't move his eyes.
"Just seems like you've got business here, don't you? I've got a good idea what. So, show Union City how much you value Community Equity." His words felt like a trap. A bribe.
Just pay the man, Elias thought to himself. And he'll let you be on your way. Elias's hand shook slightly as he powered his phone back on.
"50 will do."
Elias held his phone to the officer's own phone. TRANSFER COMPLETE pulsed across the screen. This detour was getting expensive.
The officer clicked his tongue, satisfied. "Pleasure doing business with you, Elias," he said.
The officer got back into his cruiser and sped away, and the flow of traffic eased back into its restless rhythm. Elias kept walking, following the buttery, spiced scent that tugged at his memory.
It led him to a narrow corner bakery with fogged up windows and a hand taped sign that read:
Eko's Eats, "A Market & Shop Feeding Southpoint Since 2015."
The sign wasn't neon or digital, just a thick flyer printed in bright colors, curling a little at the edges. Through the glass, he saw a few mismatched tables, their paint worn smooth by years of use. A Jamaican flag hung proudly on the wall, its colors vivid against the peeling plaster.
He pushed the door open, and a tinny bell chimed overhead. Warm air wrapped around him, thick with the scent of fresh patties, fried dumplings, and sweet bread just out of the oven. A radio on the counter played an old reggae track, its bassline rolling low beneath the clatter of pans from the back.
For a moment, Elias almost forgot why he'd come here. It reminded him of home and places Mom would have brought him after church for a treat.
A wiry older man with dark skin, shaved head, and a gray beard walked out from the back of the shop and to the counter in front of the digital register and a speaker that was blaring old school reggae.
"Hey, my friend," the old shopkeeper said. "Welcome to Eko's. I am Eko. G'wan and tell me what ya want."
Elias nodded, eyed the selection, then spoke, "Thanks, brother," Elias said, his eyes grazing over curry, jerk chicken, oxtail, and mac and cheese. "Six patties... to go."
Eko grabbed a large brown paper bag and tongs and carefully picked six patties out of the heated display case, then eyed Elias.
"That'd be 12 credits, friend," Eko said. "But my eyes think you're looking hungry. Want somethin' more? No combo plate for ya? Or a neighborhood story? Both is what Eko's known for."
"Nah, I've spent enough today," Elias answered, pulling out his phone to scan to pay, then turning it off again when the payment cleared. "I am looking for something else but I don't think it's here."
Eko eyed Elias as he handed him the brown paper bag, then turned the volume up on the speaker beside the register.
"If ya lookin' for Eko, you found Echo," the man whispered, glancing toward the window.
A look of realization swam across Elias's face and the reggae beat suddenly felt louder and not loud enough. He looked Eko in the eyes just as the man raised a finger to his lips.
"What ya lookin' for, friend?" Eko asked him after pulling Elias away from the register with the speaker blaring beside it.
"A children's story," Elias said in a hushed tone. "The Sky Beyond the Walls. I just need the words at the end."
"I'm no bookkeeper," Eko responded lowly. "I don' keep the words. But I can give you the clearance. Premium tongue, yes?"
Eko reached into his pocket, pulled out what looked like a tiny zip drive, and handed it to him.
"Eko works on the honor system," he continued. "Leave this shop and transfer 75 credits when ya turn on ya phone. Then go home, put the zip in ya device. Premium tongue is unlocked."
Elias took the zip drive and nodded, leaving Eko's without speaking another word.
"Take care, friend," Eko said, as Elias opened the door. "May the words help ya find what ya seek."
"Daddy!" Maya yelled as Elias opened the door. "We missed you!"
Nadine gave him a hard look - the kind that asked for an explanation without a word. It was already 7:45, and traffic back from Southpoint had been brutal.
"Yes, we did," Nadine said. "And we've already eaten dinner, too."
Elias raised his hands in apology, his eyes soft. "Perfect. Because Daddy brought a snack." He pulled two Jamaican patties from the bag, handing one to each of them.
Maya bit in and let out a muffled "Mmmm." Nadine's expression softened as she took her first bite.
"Why didn't you ever give me one of these before?" Maya asked through a mouthful. "It's yummy."
Nadine nodded. "I haven't had one since I was a kid. Didn't think they still made them like this. Where'd you get them?"
Elias paused, chewing. "Southpoint. That's why I'm late."
Nadine's eyes widened. "Southpoint? Why?"
"It's not as bad as they say," Elias answered quickly. "It's the UCP you've got to watch for. But there's real culture there. Feels alive."
Nadine studied him, suspicion in her eyes. Elias squeezed her hand gently. "I got another surprise for Maya too. But only after brushing teeth and jammies."
Maya's eyes lit up. She stuffed the last of her patty into her mouth and bolted toward the bathroom.
Nadine lingered. "Elias... is everything okay? Is that really the only reason you're late?"
He held her gaze. "Yeah. Went to Southpoint for the patties - and something else. Let's put her to bed together tonight."
Minutes later, the three of them squeezed into Maya's bed, her curls brushing their arms as Elias set his tablet on his lap.
"We're going to read The Sky Beyond the Walls tonight," he said softly. "The real thing." He slid a small zip drive into the side of the device.
Nadine's eyes widened. Maya let out a cheer. Elias tapped the thumbnail, cleared his throat, and began.
Once, there was a little songbird who lived in a garden surrounded by high stone walls. Every day, she sang songs about the things she could see: the red roses climbing the wall, the clear fountain in the middle, the shadows that danced at sunset.
Her songs filled the garden with joy, and the other birds praised her. But after many seasons, she grew tired. She had sung of every flower, every fountain, every shadow.
One morning, she looked up at the wall and asked her mother and father, "What lies beyond it? I want to see the sky past these stones. I want to sing new songs."
Her parents hushed her gently. "No one goes beyond the wall," her father said. "The wall keeps us safe."
Mama bird added softly, "There is nothing you need beyond it. Everything worth singing is here."
But the little bird tilted her head. She had heard whispers in the breeze, notes she could not name. She longed to follow them.
Elias paused. This was where the story had been blocked before. No notification flashed across the screen. Only silence - taut, waiting.
"Daddy, what else?" Maya whispered. "We gotta know what happens next."
So the little bird waited until the garden slept. With a beat of her wings, she rose into the dark and found a crack in the wall where the stones had loosened. She slipped through and felt the wind lift her higher than she had ever flown.
Beyond the walls, the world stretched wide and wild. She saw rivers that flashed silver under the moon, forests so deep they whispered secrets, and mountains whose peaks glittered like the stars themselves. She sang of the rivers, and her song flowed clear and bright. She sang of the forests, and her song grew deep and strong. She sang of the mountains, and her song rang proud and true.
When she returned to the garden, the other birds gathered close. They had never heard songs like hers - songs that tasted of sky and smelled of pine, songs that carried the sound of waters rushing and the sight of stars burning. "Where did you learn them?" they asked.
The little bird lifted her head. "Beyond the walls."
For a moment, the garden was silent. Then one by one, the birds spread their wings. Some squeezed through the crack she had found; others flew higher, testing the stones themselves. Soon the air was alive with new songs - not all the same, but each their own, each shaped by what they saw.
And the garden was never quiet again.
"Again, again!" Maya exclaimed, eyes bright. "Why don't they tell us stories like this at school?"
Elias didn't answer that and just read it once more. Once again, the tablet didn't stop them when they reached the Premium Language.
"OK, last time," Nadine said, smiling gently. "Bed now, little bird." They each kissed her forehead before slipping out quietly.
"You really found it," Nadine whispered, wonder in her voice. "Without the -"
Elias nodded, setting the tablet on the table. He grabbed another patty, bit into it, and said softly, "Yeah. Gonna have to go there again."
The words were still on his lips when three deafening bangs rattled the door. The sound tore through the quiet like gunshots.
"Union City Police!" a voice barked. "Open up. Now." Nadine's eyes widened. Elias's breath skipped and body locked for a heartbeat, then he moved quickly toward the door. He barely had it open before the officer from Southpoint shoved him back inside, sending Nadine stumbling.
"Wait - what is this?" Nadine cried, catching herself. "You can't do this! We have a kid here."
The officer forced Elias to the floor, snapping the cuffs around his wrists as he recited, "Yes I can, and you both have the right to remain silent. Any words spoken will be logged, reviewed for equity compliance, and may be used in proceedings against you."
He stopped mid sentence, spotting the tablet. Lifting it with one gloved hand, he muttered flatly, "Evidence." His thumb swiped the screen.
"A Vox employee caught with pirated Premium Language access," he said coldly. "Fraudulent clearance for intellectual property considered costly to the Greater States. Serious stuff, Elias."
Elias struggled against the cuffs. "This is crazy - it's just a kid's story!"
"Words matter," the officer said, tucking the tablet under his arm as he hauled Elias upright. "Everyone knows that."
"Daddy..." Maya's small voice trembled from the hallway. Nadine turned first, scooping her close, tears slipping down her face. "What's happening?" Maya whispered.
Nadine held her tight. "It's going to be OK, sweetheart. Daddy will be back soon."
As the officer shoved him toward the hall, Elias twisted enough to see her curls in the dim light. "I'll be back soon, Maya," he called, his voice breaking. "It's going to be OK."
The officer gripped his shoulder harder. Elias spat, "It's just a kid's story. And I... paid you!"
The officer didn't even blink. "50 credits? Vox pays me more, fella. Now remain silent."
Elias turned back and saw Maya peering out of the doorway, her small hands gripping the frame. "Keep your head up, baby!" he shouted down the hall as neighbors' doors cracked open, faces peering out into the dim corridor. "Keep your head up."
The officer shoved him through the stairwell door. His voice vanished with the slam.
Maya stayed in the doorway, Nadine's arms tight around her. Her face was wet, but her chin lifted. Down the hall, the neighbors watched in silence.
Then Maya opened her mouth and began, very softly, "Once, there was a little songbird..."
from FICTION on the WEB short stories https://ift.tt/PGvUsHS
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