Another Try

The rusted metal door groaned as Eli pried it open with his crowbar, releasing decades of stale air into the harsh afternoon light. He pulled his scarf tighter around his face, protecting against both the ever-present dust and whatever might be lingering inside the bunker.

Food was scarce this season, and the village elders had sent him farther afield to scavenge.

“Please have something,” he muttered, clicking on his handmade oil lamp. The weak flame cast dancing shadows across concrete walls as he descended the staircase.

Fifty years after the Burning Sky War, the world was barely recognizable. History existed only in stories told around communal fires—tales of machines that flew through air, of invisible waves carrying voices across continents, of cities that glowed so bright they erased the stars. To Eli, born in the aftermath, they were just stories—cautionary legends of humanity’s first try at technological civilization. Reality was the struggle for food, the fight against blight, and the perpetual dust that covered everything.

The bunker opened into a large room, and Eli’s heart leapt. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with preserved food—actual cans, with labels! He’d hit the motherload. As he stuffed his backpack, something in the corner caught his eye.

A desk, covered in dust, held strange rectangular objects. He’d seen drawings of these in the community’s precious books—computers. Ancient technology from the Before. Worthless now, of course, but fascinating nonetheless. He wiped dust from one of the screens, marveling at his reflection in the dark glass.

His fingers brushed against something else—a flat device with a small dish attached. The elders called these things “satellites,” though nobody really understood what they did. Eli examined it idly, then nearly dropped it when a tiny green light began to blink on its surface.

“What the—”

Curious, he connected it to one of the computers as he’d seen in diagrams. To his astonishment, the screen flickered to life. Green text crawled across the darkness:

EMERGENCY BACKUP POWER: ACTIVATED
SATELLITE UPLINK: CONNECTING...
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

Eli stared in disbelief. The stories were true—there had been an invisible web connecting the world. And somehow, impossibly, it was still there. A remnant of humanity’s first attempt at creating global civilization, waiting silently for someone to discover it again.

Over the next week, Eli spent every possible moment in the bunker. He told no one, sneaking away from the village whenever possible. The computer held knowledge—endless knowledge. He taught himself to read the strange symbols, to navigate the digital pathways. It felt like speaking with ghosts—the echoes of those who had come before, who had tried and failed to create something lasting.

Then came the message.

WE SEE YOU. COORDINATES LOGGED. STAY WHERE YOU ARE.

Eli froze, heart pounding. Someone was watching. Someone else had this technology. Before he could respond, the screen filled with new text:

UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED. PRESERVATION TEAM DISPATCHED. ETA: 6 HOURS.

He should have run then. Looking back, that was his mistake. But the allure of meeting others who understood this forgotten knowledge was too strong. Perhaps they knew how to avoid the mistakes of the past.

“I should warn the village,” he said to himself, gathering what he could. With one last look at the computer, he hurried up the stairs and began the long trek back.

By the time Eli reached the village, the sun was setting. He burst into the elder’s hut, breathless.

“Someone’s coming,” he gasped. “They have machines—flying machines.”

Elder Maren frowned. “What are you talking about, boy? What have you found out there?”

Before Eli could explain, the first distant thumping sound reached them. A rhythmic whump-whump-whump that grew louder by the second.

“Everyone, stay calm,” Eli shouted as villagers emerged from their huts, faces upturned to the darkening sky.

The helicopter descended, a mechanical beast from another era. Men in spotless gray uniforms emerged, their faces hidden behind black visors.

“It’s just like the stories,” whispered a child, clinging to his mother.

“Which one accessed the network?” The voice was mechanical, filtered through a mask as the soldiers formed a line.

Elder Maren stepped forward. “We don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re simple people.”

“The signal came from here.” The soldier raised a device that beeped steadily. He pointed directly at Eli. “Him.”

All eyes turned to Eli. Before he could speak, strong hands gripped his arms, dragging him toward the helicopter.

“Please,” he shouted over the noise. “I just want to learn! There’s so much knowledge—”

“Knowledge is controlled for a reason,” the masked figure replied. “Peace requires order. The last attempt at free access ended in flames.”

As the helicopter lifted, Eli caught a last glimpse of his village—the fear, the awe on familiar faces now made strange. Then clouds swallowed them whole.

The Preservation Facility gleamed with technology beyond Eli’s comprehension. Through windows of his sterile cell, he observed people in white coats moving purposefully, surrounded by screens and machines that hummed with power.

A woman entered his cell on the third day, her face lined with age but her eyes sharp.

“I’m Director Kade,” she said, sitting across from him. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because I found a computer? Because I connected to your network?”

“You’ve placed us in a difficult position.” She crossed her legs casually. “Most scavengers who stumble upon old tech just see broken artifacts. You actually accessed the Network.”

“Why hide it?” Eli leaned forward. “People are starving, dying from preventable diseases. This knowledge could save them!”

Kade’s smile was cold. “Last time humanity had unfettered access to technology, they burned the world. We preserve what remains to prevent extinction.”

“So you hoard it for yourselves?”

“We maintain peace. Humanity’s first try failed spectacularly. We’re not ready for a second.”

Over the following days, Eli observed the truth. In conversations with sympathetic technicians like Mira who brought his meals, he learned more.

“The Council controls everything,” she whispered one evening. “They’re descendants of military and scientific elites who retreated to fortified compounds during the war.”

“Why help them?” Eli asked.

Mira glanced at the door. “We have medicines that could save millions. Agricultural techniques that could end famine. But the Council believes humanity isn’t ‘ready.’ That they need guidance—their guidance—indefinitely.”

“That’s not preservation,” Eli said. “That’s control.”

When Eli was brought before the full Council, their pronouncement was simple: he would join them, using his surprising aptitude for technology to serve their cause. Resistance meant death.

He nodded his acceptance, and began planning his escape.

The opportunity came three weeks later, during a power fluctuation caused by a storm. With Mira’s help, Eli downloaded critical information onto portable drives, slipped past the compromised security systems, and stole a small aircraft.

“You’ll crash this thing,” Mira warned as they hurried across the hangar.

“I’ve been studying the flight simulations,” Eli replied, climbing into the cockpit. “Come with me.”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Someone has to stay and help others escape. There are more like us here.”

He gripped her hand. “I’ll find a way to come back.”

He crashed twice before reaching the first outlying community. Their reaction mirrored his village’s—fear, then wonder. But Eli had learned how to speak to people teetering between terror and hope.

“They’ve lied to us,” he told the gathering crowd, holding up the technology he’d stolen. “The world wasn’t destroyed because of knowledge. It was destroyed because of how that knowledge was used. By whom it was controlled.”

A weathered man pushed to the front. “And who would control it now? You?”

“No one,” Eli replied. “And everyone. We deserve another try—but this time, together.”

The rebellion began slowly—a network of messengers carrying information between settlements, technology gradually reintroduced with careful instruction. When the Council’s forces arrived to suppress the uprising, they found not disorganized farmers but coordinated resistance using their own tools against them.

Ten years later, Eli stood on the hill overlooking Bridgepoint, watching children enter the schoolhouse where technology and history were taught side by side. Communication towers connected their community to dozens of others across the continent. Medical facilities saved lives daily. Humanity’s second try was underway.

Sera, one of his first students and now a brilliant engineer, joined him on the hillside.

“The Council’s last stronghold fell yesterday,” she said, excitement in her voice.

“And their weapons facilities?”

“Ours now,” she replied. “Defensive technology to protect what we’ve built.”

Eli raised an eyebrow. “The same justification they used.”

“This is different,” Sera insisted. “We’re not hiding knowledge.”

“Not yet,” Eli said quietly.

“I’ve been thinking about expanding eastward,” she continued. “Those communities still live like it’s the dark ages.”

“Or we could wait until they reach out to us.”

Sera frowned. “That could take decades. Why wait when we can help them now?”

As stars appeared overhead, Eli gazed at the lights of Bridgepoint, bright enough to dim the stars, just like the old stories.

“Because,” he said, “the line between helping and controlling is thinner than we admit.”

Sera nodded, but Eli saw in her eyes the same certainty he once had. Different people, same patterns. The tools had changed hands, but the questions remained: Who decides? Who controls? Who bears responsibility?

Eli wondered if, generations from now, someone else would be prying open another door to rediscover forgotten technology, giving humanity yet another try.