Blue City

By S. V. Teixeira

Years ago, they seeded chips inside human skulls — turning the unlucky ones into Lithium Heads, or litheads, who shuffle through the city compulsively drawn to the blue glow of screens. The light calls to them. Recharges them. Phones, televisions, the flickering neon grids of abandoned cities — all pumping voltage into those decaying brains.

"Goddammit… Down to the last cans!" Exclaimed old John.

Brady fidgeted with his rifle strap, eyes darting toward the distant glow of the metroplex. "Gotta hit the city tomorrow."

The city was silent as a desert at noon. The litheads usually only emerge at night — sunlight scrambles their precious blue light frequencies. But they’ll still stir if strangers trespass on their grounds during daylight.

Every supply run risks John’s team. This time, even the hollowed-out mall yielded little supplies. Robert — ever the charmer — kicked a dented freezer door. "Like raiding my grandma’s fridge at 3 AM. Picked clean."

"Looks like we’re pushing farther this time," said Niérllin, the sharp-eyed young scout.

In the mall’s garage, they found three motorcycles — miraculously still fuelled. Two hours of cracked highways later, they reached the city’s opposite edge and breached another shopping centre. Supplies loaded, but the sun bled into twilight.

"We camp here tonight," Brady insisted, thumbing his rifle’s safety off. 

They feasted like kings on expired soda cocktails and old, canned meat. For one reckless hour, they almost forgot the world outside. Then Niérlin saw them. A tide of litheads shambling toward the mall.

"They know we're here," John barked. "Flank positions — Niérlin with me, Robert and Brady take the east corridor."

Robert chambered a round. "Aim for the chips, kid. Put 'em down clean."

Gunfire echoed through the food court. Niérlin's fifteenth headshot sent sparks flying from a shattered skull. "Where the hell are they all coming from?" she panted. "I'm burning through ammo!"

Brady grabbed her arm, dragging her backward. "They're spawning faster than we can kill. We run. NOW."

"Got an idea," John said, eyeing a fire hose.

They flooded the ground floor and tossed live wires into the water. Lithium Heads convulsed as electricity arced through their implants, blue sparks dancing across the wet tiles.

Their escape hit a snag in the parking garage. Brady cursed — the bikes were out of gas, tires slashed. Then came the stranger. He walked untouched through the horde. "John... John," he called. "You were hard to find."

Robert tensed. “How does this guy know his name?”

The man drew his pistol and shot John in the right leg.

Robert spotted a working car, gunned the engine, and rammed the mystery man — sending him sprawling with minor injuries.

Back at base, Robert finally asked the question burning in his throat: "John...how the hell do you know that guy?"

John staggered badly, his leg giving out. Breathing was a struggle. "That team of scientists — the ones who invented the chip that turns blue light into energy for the human body… I was part of it. Slowly, we agreed to take control of everything. Every aspect of human life. Food. Work. Anxiety. Depression. Sex. We turned people into puppets. The world would know peace, they said. It’d be eco-friendly. And the burden of political organisation? That fell to us. It was a strange solution, but a solution. Some didn’t think it was a good idea; others did. Little by little, people handed over control. It was convenient. Entire cities fell under our command."

"You're responsible for all this?!"

"I was young. I had nothing to lose — until I saw our technology used for sexual abuse, mind control, and pacifying entire civilian populations. I thought pressing a button would make those problems vanish. But city after city embraced the tech. The chips’ mind control grew stronger. And the world became... this."

"So, it’s true. You do know how we stop it?"

"I wish I’d trained more teams, as well-trained as yours, before giving you the intel. I know the location of the blue-light satellite command centre and the data hubs across the country. All the intel is in that military case and with a few specific other rebel teams. This is our last chance. Other teams are ready to move. Contact them."

Old man John spoke these words, then died.

What followed was a full-scale revolution. They blew up the satellite control stations, power plants, and data hubs. 

The remnants of the lithead army didn’t even know where to begin rebuilding the infrastructure. The technicians of that dead age didn’t even know how to make fire. They were pathetic. 

The victory cost the very bones of the old world — but for the first time in generations the terrible, beautiful right to be human was entirely theirs again.

About the Author

Saulo Teixeira is a 12-year-old Brazilian boy who loves science fiction stories and medieval adventures — tales filled with characters who undergo profound transformations, culminating in unforgettable endings rich with philosophical meaning.

He also likes to draw scenes from anime shows, create jokes with his friends and skip history and math classes.