Visionary — The Rise of Lavi Argent and the Fall of Future Hall

Wake up, Memrie! Breakfast’s stewing, and guess what? Goat chops again! Bring a barf bag, or better yet, one of those ‘handmade pillowcases’ you’re so proud of!”

That was Angus, the warden. His gravelly voice scraped against the grimy walls of my cell. Calling it a bedroom was generous — four mold-streaked concrete walls, a cot with springs that screamed in pain every time I moved, and a rusted door that barely shut.

Yet… something felt different today. A tension in the air. A taste on my tongue, metallic like anticipation.

“Screw you, Memory! Rot in hell!”

That was Quia, the girl locked directly across from me. Her hate was a constant, but I’d long stopped feeling offended. I was more intrigued — every time she raged, it was like a warning from a future only she could glimpse.

Because here, in Future Hall of the Watson Facility for the Mentally Unstable, every patient was special — or, as The Staff called us: Glitches.

We had abilities tied to time itself.

I was Memory — Memrie, as Angus sneered — but once I’d had a real name, now forgotten. Ten years in this crumbling madhouse had stolen that from me along with my powers. They said I was once the strongest — able to see, taste, smell, feel, and hear the future. But now? Now I was broken, my abilities torn away, my past wiped clean.

My neighbor Samuel could hear the future. His glitch? He only heard terror — screams, metal scraping, cartwheels turning. Quia? She could see it — but whatever The Staff did to her, it left her blind to clarity, her visions fractured and incomplete.

And me? Just a name and an emptiness.

Still, I dragged myself to the Mess Hall, skipping the stew that turned everyone’s stomachs.

“Hey Sam, what’s new?” I asked, sitting across from him.

He grinned. “Whistle blows soon… and an inspection. Odd timing. Oh — and check your mail.”

“Mail? I never get mail.”

“Today, you do.” His smirk held mischief. “Ears don’t lie, Mem.”

Later, during free time in Freedom Bay — a bleak playroom for the inmates — I found myself at the front desk.

“Any mail for #5210?” I asked.

Hanza, the receptionist, blinked in surprise but then handed me a single envelope. No name, no return address.

Back in a quiet corner, I carefully opened it.

BEFORE YOU READ FURTHER, LEAVE FREEDOM BAY NOW. TAKE THE LEFT EXIT TO YOUR CELL. MOVE!

I hesitated — a prank? But my gut twisted. I bolted, taking the left exit, locking myself in my cell before opening the letter again.

GOOD. Now pay attention. This will change your life forever. Once done, leave this in Control Hall.

I’m you.

I froze.

No, not alternate you, not parallel-dimension you — I’m you, ten years younger. Before they took everything. Before The Hampshire Corporate erased your name. Your real name is Lavi Argent.

My heart pounded. I kept reading.

I’m breaking you out, Lavi. Follow my instructions — the next letters will guide you to The Resistance — others like us who never got caught. I can’t promise safety. But I can promise we’ll end this. Together.

Are you in?

Then, as if on cue—

“ROOM INSPECTION! Everyone out!” Angus’s voice rattled the hall.

I stuffed the letter into my pillow, hiding in the shadows.

Outside My Cell

Sam glanced around. “Where’s Memory?” he muttered, knocking on my door. No answer.

Angus sneered. “What’s wrong, Samule? Missin’ your little girlfriend? Lemme wake her up proper.”

Sam struggled, but guards pinned his arms.

With a wicked grin, Angus unlocked my cell door.

And then—

BOOM.

The door erupted, flames swallowing the threshold. Angus’s scream tore through the facility — his skin already melting, the air itself stinking of charred flesh.

Quia, who’d foreseen the inferno, had already pulled Sam away.

“She’s gone. Long before this,” Quia whispered.

Control Room – Simultaneously

“CALL A MEDIC! Fire in Control Hall! Patients are rebelling — CODE BLACK!”

Sirens blared. The halls shook with chaos — patients shattering lights, flipping tables, breaking the weak links of their prison.

In the control room, Hanza spotted an envelope near the water cooler — the very one she’d given me.

She tore it open.

To: The Staff

If you’re reading this… it’s already too late.

—Lavi

Somewhere in the dark, beyond the smoldering remains of Future Hall, I was running.
My name wasn’t Memory.

I was Lavi Argent.

And I was just getting started.

Moral of the Story

Even when stripped of your past, your name, your power — the future is still yours to reclaim.