PROPHET
EPISODE 02 | SCENE 01
19 YEARS LATER • YEAR 347
A hand searches a pocket, and the teardrop coin soon glints in Wick’s grasp. Fresh from his strange journey to BREED 007, he’s locked himself in his apartment, heart still thudding from the adrenaline of the past few hours.
He glances back at the door, certain someone might be standing beyond it. Pressing his face to the peephole, he scans the empty passage. Wick exhales, squeezes the coin, and pads toward the living room.
He drops quietly onto the couch and opens his palm. The embossed silver catches the moonlight. When he flips it, a soft pulse glows from the other side’s edge. No matter how he turns it, the light points in one direction—like a compass. Maybe it is.
The coin holds him spellbound. Its weight presses into his hand as if demanding his attention. All those years of dreams—the teardrop symbol haunting him—now made real, shining in his grasp. One thought beats through his mind.
“What is it?” a voice murmurs.
Wick jolts and looks down the hall. Alexa stands in her pajamas beneath the bedroom doorframe. His hand snaps shut and slips the coin back into his pocket.
“Are you all right?” she asks when he doesn’t answer.
“Oh, of course,” he says, forcing himself to respond.
She steps closer. “There was a flash.”
Wick glances at his wristband and lifts it. “Just playing with my watch.”
Alexa sighs softly. “Is it that dream again?”
He swallows. “Yeah.”
She settles beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I can’t sleep, either,” she mumbles.
“Why you?” Wick asks, grateful for the distraction. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her in.
“It’s hard when you’re not there,” she says.
“You know I wander around sometimes.” He reaches for the throw and tucks it around her.
“I know. But my body notices when you’re gone. You were gone a long time this time.”
“How long?”
“Four hours.”
His brows lift. It hadn’t felt that long.
“Where’d you go?”
“Just around the block a few times. Thought it’d help me sleep.”
She looks up, meeting his eyes. “A few times? How slow were you walking?”
“Slow,” he lies, remembering how fast he ran home.
“Well,” she says, sitting up, “I’m not tired anymore.”
“Thanks for sharing.”
“You hungry?”
Wick checks his watch. “At two in the morning?”
She stands from the couch and tugs his wrist like an eager puppy. “Come on. I want an adventure, too.”
“What? You don’t want to eat here?”
“There’s that diner on the corner.” She sticks out her lower lip. “Please?”
Wick exhales, but the faint grin on his face betrays him.
Alexa claps once, delighted. “Yay! I’ll slip into something nicer.” She strides toward the bedroom.
Wick stares out the bay window, but his thoughts fix on the coin in his pocket. His fingers trace the raised teardrop. It’s warm, almost alive. A tug in his conscience sharpens—a pull he can’t quite ignore. His hand drifts out, and the coin’s edge peeks into the light before Alexa’s footsteps sound behind him.
He turns quickly. She’s brushing her hair quickly. “Ready,” she says.
“Looks like you’re about to go get a steak dinner.”
She smirks, eyeing his clothes. “And you look like you just got done peddling on a street corner.”
Wick zips his pocket shut, securing the coin, then grabs her jacket from the closet. Together, they step out.
The elevator hums as it descends. The skyscrapers slide past, glowing against the night. Alexa’s hand finds his, and he holds it tight.
“Can you imagine being bred in one of the other facilities?” she asks. “Having to actually work for a living?”
The doors open to the lobby. Light scatters from a crystalline chandelier across marble floors.
“Never really thought about it,” he says.
“Me neither. But who else gets to go to dinner at two in the morning? Downtown? On Penumbra’s dime?”
“Lucky, I guess.” He glances at Alexa—her calm face, untroubled eyes. Neither of them know hardship.
They turn right and soon reach the corner of Second Street. Wick holds open the door to Mac’s Tick Tock Café.
An android hostess greets them immediately, its polished body wrapped in a crisp uniform. “Welcome back, Alexa. And Wick. Wonderful to see you both.”
“I love that you always remember, Denny,” Alexa says warmly.
“Of course, ma’am,” it replies through its smooth metallic grill. “It’s always a pleasure. There’s an open booth in the back—will that be all right?”
The café beats with life. Every seat is filled, voices blending with the clatter of plates. Outside, electric signs wash the windows in shifting color, making it easy to believe it’s still midday.
Denny leads them to a small booth near the kitchen doors. It’s tight but comfortable. As they sit, the android places two tall glasses of ice water on the table. “Take your time,” it says, then marches off on gleaming legs.
The tabletop brightens, turning into a touchscreen menu. Alexa scrolls slowly, eyes darting from one dish to another.
“You’re not getting anything?” she asks when she notices Wick hasn’t looked down once.
“I already know what I want.”
“And you know I’m indecisive,” she mutters, scrolling again.
Another android—this one named Wendy—checks on them twice before Alexa finally makes up her mind: a ham and cheese croissant with a vanilla spice cappuccino.
“Oh, wait, let me guess!” Wendy interrupts before Wick can speak. “You want the Mac & Benedict—two poached eggs over macaroni and provolone, all on an English muffin, hollandaise on the side.”
“That’s exactly what I want,” Wick says.
“Well, you’ve ordered it nine times in the past twelve months. It’s not a hard guess.”
“Well done.”
“That’s my job, sir.”
Wendy turns to leave, then pauses. “And a raspberry iced tea, as always?”
“No thanks. Just water tonight.”
When the android leaves, silence fills the booth. Wick and Alexa watch each other the way they always do—content, but reading between expressions. Tonight, though, Alexa notices something distant in his stare.
“What’s up?” she asks gently.
His eyes glaze before he blinks and sits straighter. “Nothing. I’m fine. It’s just…” He scans the room.
“What?”
He feels the coin pulsing faintly in his pocket. “Maybe not here.”
“Why not?” she whispers. “No one’s listening. Everyone’s in their own world.”
Wick glances around again. The hum of conversation is loud, but not loud enough to ease his nerves. He exhales. “You know that teardrop symbol from my dream?”
She nods.
“I found a coin with that exact symbol on it.”
Alexa’s eyebrows lift. “Really?”
“Shhh—yes.”
“Why’s that so secret?”
Wick’s eyes flick toward the front counter. Denny is watching. He quickly looks away. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Is that what you’ve been hiding in your pocket?”
Wick freezes. “How—”
“You were staring at it on the couch for at least five minutes,” she says.
“You were watching me that long, and I didn’t even notice?”
“You were…very focused.”
“Because it means my dreams were real. Or at least connected to something real.”
Alexa tilts her head, uncertain.
“What? I’m serious.”
Alexa flips her palm upward across the table. “Let’s see it, then.”
“Not here, Alexa. What’d I say?”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Slip it under the table. I’ll keep it hidden.”
Wick examines her, then unzips his pocket. His pulse quickens as he grips the warm coin and slides it beneath the table. As he does, he catches a man at a diagonal booth glance over his shoulder, watching. Wick tenses.
Alexa takes the coin and studies it in her lap. Her pupils tighten and dilate like camera lenses searching for focus. For a moment, she’s gone—completely absorbed.
Wick clears his throat. She looks up.
“So?” he asks.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Isn’t it interesting?”
“Honestly? Not really.”
His brows draw together. “No?”
“I see how it’s affecting you,” she says quietly. “If you want my opinion, get rid of it.”
“What? No way!” Wick blurts out.
Heads turn from nearby tables. He lowers his voice, though it trembles. “Are you kidding me, Alexa? This coin—it’s real. It proves my dreams are real. Somehow.”
“It’s probably coincidence.”
“No. Listen.” He leans closer. “That symbol—it wasn’t just in my dreams. Remember the day we first met?”
She frowns. “You’re not making sense.”
“When I arrived at BREED 007.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t remember that day. Not until recently, when I asked the Pod to replay it. We were five. And I wasn’t bred there, Alexa. I was moved there.”
She looks aside, processing. “Okay…yeah. I do remember that. I knew you weren’t originally from there.”
“Right, but I never really thought about it. But my SentiaChip had the memory stored. And guess what else was in it?”
She shakes her head.
“The symbol. A man—his face looked melted, scarred—and he had that exact symbol tattooed on his wrist.”
Alexa blinks, uncertain. “…Okay…?”
“Don’t you see? That symbol is connected to my past. Everything before that memory is gone. The Pod wouldn’t show it. And when I went back to the breeding station, the android said the symbol was classified.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait. When did you go there?”
He hesitates.
“Tonight?” she says slowly. “You said you were just walking around the block.”
Wick sighs heavily. “Look. I wasn’t comfortable sharing at first. I didn’t know how.”
“Maybe the truth would’ve been good,” she says flatly.
“Alexa, I’m sorry. Can you see how confusing this is for me?”
“Me, too. This isn’t like you, Wick—wandering around the West end of Zone One in the middle of the night. Is this what you do when I’m asleep?”
“No. Tonight was the only night.”
“Where’d you get the coin?”
“It was there. Lying on the sidewalk outside the old building. I think the man who was following me left it.”
She leans back, eyes widening. “Wait—what? A man? Following you? Start over.”
“Sorry… It’s been weeks since the Pod showed me that memory, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed answers. So tonight I took the magline to West One. Somewhere along the way, I noticed someone watching me.”
“What kind of someone?”
“I don’t know. Hooded. I couldn’t see his face. I lost him before I got to BREED 007, but when I came out to leave…the coin was on the ground. Then the man appeared again.”
Alexa leans forward. “And?”
Wick’s eyes drift, distant. “He said one word. Then he was gone.”
“What word?”
The noise of the diner seems to fall away. Wick whispers, “Verum.”
“Verum?” Alexa says too loudly.
“Shh!” He scans the room. Conversations pick back up slowly, as though the sound itself had been holding its breath.
“That’s it?” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“Nothing else happened?”
“No.”
“So, you came straight home?”
“I did. And that’s when you found me on the couch.”
“That was all tonight?”
“Yes.”
Alexa glances around, her tone tightening. “So that man could be in this diner right now.”
Wick’s gaze sweeps the room, heart pounding. “Yes. He could be.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before we left?”
“I’m sorry.”
She groans. “Well…as I said, I don’t think you should worry about it. And after hearing everything, I’m very sure I’m right.”
“No. It means I should worry.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It wouldn’t be if it meant nothing.”
She folds her arms. “If any of this is true, then stop meddling. If something’s classified, it’s classified for a reason.”
“Doesn’t mean the reason’s bad,” he says quietly.
“But as I said, it’s dangerous,” Alexa presses. “Maybe that’s why people keep looking our way. Ever think of that?”
Wick doesn’t answer.
Their food arrives soon after, and they eat in uneasy silence.
Half an hour later, Wick lays his hand on the touchscreen to pay. “We’re running low,” he mutters, reading the display.
“You mean you’re running low,” Alexa corrects. “We both get allowances. The month’s almost over—it’ll replenish. Besides, use it or lose it.”
“I still can’t believe you don’t spend as much as me—with all that girl stuff you buy.”
“It’s called beauty supplies,” she says. “And if you’re so concerned, let me pay for my own food.”
“No, no, no. It’s fine.”
They rise and start toward the front when Wick whispers, “Hey, can you give me the coin back?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“But it’s my coin—”
“No, it’s not—”
“Alexa. Give me the coin—”
“I don’t have it,” she bites back, patting her pockets.
Wick’s head snaps toward the booth. Wendy, the android, bends to pick something up from the seat where Alexa had been. Wick rushes over.
“Hey—that’s mine. Sorry.”
Wendy straightens, holding the coin between its fingers. “This is yours?”
“Yes. Sorry.” He reaches out, but the android’s tone sharpens. “This is illegal, sir.”
“What? This?”
“Where did you get it?”
“I—I just found it tonight. On the sidewalk outside.”
“You shouldn’t be in possession of this.”
Wick’s throat tightens. “I told you, I just found it.”
“Are you up to something, sir?”
“No. I swear. I literally just found it.”
“Then you’d better un-find it. That’s my advice.”
Wick reaches for the coin, but Wendy pulls it back.
“If I shouldn’t have it, neither should you,” he says. “I’ll take care of it—dispose of it myself.”
“Wouldn’t it be wiser to call the authorities?”
“The station’s only a few blocks away. I’ll go there tomorrow.”
Its synthetic eyes narrow to thin slits.
“In fact,” Wick says, reaching in and snatching the coin from its hand, “I’ll go there now.”
Wendy’s voice lowers. “Careful, Wick. Androids hold more knowledge than humans. Even though I was built forty years ago, my mind connects to the city’s collective archive—and nothing good has ever come from that symbol.”
“…I appreciate your concern, Wendy.”
“You’re a good man, Wick. I’d like to see you again.”
He backs away slowly. “Hey, you’ll probably see me in a few days.”
“Hope so!” Wendy’s tone brightens instantly. “I’ll have your Mac & Benedict ready!”
“And I’ll take the raspberry iced tea next time!” Wick replies with a forced smile.
He turns, grabs Alexa’s arm, and they hurry out of the diner without another word.
A minute later, as they near their apartment complex, Alexa stops short. “Aren’t you supposed to take that to the police station?”
Wick glances back. “You heard her say that over all the noise?”
“Well…I caught parts of it.”
“Are you going to turn me in if I don’t?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then it’s settled. Come on.”
“Wait, Wick. Just—wait.” She grips his arm. “What if she’s right? She said you won’t last if you keep it. You know what that means. Nothing good.”
“You really heard her say all that?”
“I’m scared, Wick. You’re putting both of us in danger.”
“She could’ve said it to scare me.”
“But why? Why scare you unless it’s true?”
He looks into her eyes—real fear there, not just worry. “I’ll take it in tomorrow. Okay?”
“Why not now? Why keep it?”
“Because I’m exhausted. I don’t want anyone following me in the dark. And I just…want to study it a little longer.”
“Wiiick,” she groans.
“First thing tomorrow. Promise.”
“You mean today. It’s already tomorrow.”
He exhales. “Right. Today. Later today. Promise.”
“Fine,” she mutters. “You’re tired? Then let’s go to bed. I’m done with this night.”
She grabs his arm and pulls him through the GLASS doors, leading him back upstairs to their apartment.
Wick lies awake for a long time. He’s never gone back to sleep after one of his recurring dreams—and after tonight, how could he? But he promised Alexa he would.
He turns his head on the pillow. Her chest rises and falls in calm rhythm. It’s always easy for her. Wick rolls back over, facing the window. The skyscrapers burn faintly against the night. Maybe it’s too bright. He slips out of bed, draws the curtains tight, then crawls back under the sheets. His hand brushes his pocket, checking the zipper and the coin’s weight inside. Only then does he force his eyes shut.
For a while, he whispers, verum...verum...verum...until—
In the darkness, Wick hears a voice—deep, ancient, both near and impossibly distant. He cannot open his eyes, so he listens. The voice swells, and light erupts through the void like blades. A great orb burns in the black, and around it countless smaller ones ignite, until Wick is surrounded by what seems an infant cosmos.
The sunlight falls upon dark spheres. One, blue and alive with water, draws him in. Land rises from its surface. Barren ground blooms into grass, flowers, forests. Creatures form from the soil itself, great and small, as Wick drifts above valleys and rivers descending from a high hill.
A garden comes into view—rich, ordered, and alive. At its center stand two towering trees, one bearing green fruit, the other violet. Wick descends until he feels grass beneath his feet. Before him, earth is tilled by unseen hands. The soil breaks open, and a man pulls himself from the ground, dirt becoming flesh.
Time accelerates. Day races into night, yet a light walks with the man, speaking to him as a person speaks to a friend. The man is lonely. He is put to sleep. From his side a rib is drawn, and from it a woman is formed and laid beside him. They wake together, rejoicing.
Commands are given. Then, the light withdraws from them.
Time spins. On the third dawn, the woman wanders alone to the center of the garden. A strange winged reptile appears, watching. An unseen presence bends over it, stills it, and enters. Through the creature, the voice speaks maternally, gentle and coaxing. The woman hesitates, then takes the green fruit. As she eats, the beast recoils, empty again.
She gives the fruit to the man. The moment he bites, their eyes fly open. Fear grips them. The light calls out, fatherly yet terrible. Curses follow. The reptile is stripped to the dust. The ground itself is cursed for the man and woman. The earth convulses, splitting the garden apart. They are driven east as unseen beings seal the garden behind them.
Time surges forward. Families grow, fracture, and multiply. Cities rise. Wars follow. Wick watches centuries collapse into mere moments.
He is pulled suddenly into a vast stone temple. Women climb its steps, each carrying an infant. At the center stands a monstrous statue—man-shaped, serpent-headed—before a pool of fire. One by one, children are taken, stripped, and cast into the flames. Wick screams, but no one hears. Horror corrodes him until he longs for judgment.
Judgment comes. Earthquakes, hail, and flood. The city is swallowed whole. Wick is dragged beneath the waters, then lifted high again as the world is reshaped into mountains and seas.
A boat appears on the waters. A family emerges when the flood recedes. Life begins again. Cities return. A tower rises and is shattered by the light. Humanity scatters. Violence deepens.
Wick fractures—standing, all at once, in temples across the world, watching infants burned, slain, and devoured. The roar of the vision then collapses inward, as if the world is holding its breath, and Wick feels everything narrow to a single moment.
He stands on a hill beside an old man and his bound son. A knife is raised—and stopped. A ram is given instead. A promise is spoken: the light will one day be humanity’s ram.
Time spins. A city grows on that hill. Blood is spilled, but not children’s—only rams, bulls, and goats. Still, the promise waits.
Time hurls forward. Wick stands in a courtyard, watching a man being whipped until his back is cratered with blood. Dragged away.
Then another hill. The same man, stripped, bearing a cross. Nailed. Lifted. Gasping beneath a darkened sky.
The man cries out to his father. Declares it finished. Wick understands too late—the light that formed the world and man now dies upon that wood.
The earth shudders. Wick is thrown into the temple nearby. The ground splits. Candlesticks fall. Bread scatters. And a great veil is torn in two.
Alexa sits in the chair across from the bed, watching Wick thrash in his sleep. His rest is restless—his head jerks in sharp bursts, his lips moving around the same muttered name again and again. She glances at the clock. Afternoon sun spills across the floor.
With a sigh, she stands and moves quietly to his side. Sweat beads across his face. She reaches out, ready to shake him awake—then freezes. He’s gone still. His lips close. His chest barely moves.
Her voice trembles. “Wick?”
No answer. The silence presses in. Just as she starts to call his name again, his eyes snap open.
Alexa gasps, clutching her chest. “Oh—thank you.”
Wick blinks, dazed, then turns to the clock. “How long was I out?”
He looks back at her. She’s pale, breathing unevenly. Wick sits up, concern now cutting through the haze. “You okay?”
Alexa steadies herself with a long breath. When she opens her eyes, Wick sees what’s in her hand—the coin. His pulse jumps.
“Hey,” he says, voice tightening. “What are you doing with that?”
Her pupils widen and retract, focusing like a lens. Her voice comes out slow. “You were saying something in your sleep.”
Wick watches up at Alexa as her eyes finally stop dilating and asks, “Who’s Yeshua?”
