In the Dark, We Chose - the Valentine Reset
Copyright© 2026 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 5: The Men Who Built the Fall
The radio came alive on the fifth morning.
Not with hope. With confirmation.
Tom was halfway down the basement stairs when the static shifted into a voice—thin, distorted, but unmistakably human. He froze on the steps, listening as the words cut through the hum of the generator.
“ ... this is a national emergency broadcast ... multiple grid sectors remain non-operational ... supply chains have failed to recover ... hospitals are overwhelmed ... government continuity measures are now in effect...”
He reached the bottom and turned up the volume just enough.
Sarah was already there, sitting on the couch with her knees drawn up, eyes locked on the radio like it might say something that would undo everything.
“ ... public urged to remain calm...” the voice continued, “ ... this disruption may extend for months...”
Months.
Sarah let out a sharp laugh that held no humor. “They still think calm is a resource.”
Tom didn’t answer.
Because he already knew what the radio would never say.
This wasn’t a disruption.
It was a new era.
By midday, the truth spread in pieces.
People talked in driveways. In hushed clusters near broken cars. In corners of yards where no one could overhear.
Someone said the reset had failed.
Someone else said it had been hacked.
Someone whispered that it was planned.
Tom listened to all of it from behind the curtain.
And every version of the story sounded like his father’s voice saying:
It was choice.
Sarah stood beside him. “People are going to start looking for someone to blame.”
Tom nodded. “They already are.”
“And your dad—”
“Will be at the top of that list,” Tom finished.
They stood there in silence, watching the world shift from confusion into something sharper.
Anger always came after fear.
That afternoon, Tom finally opened the tablet again.
Not the message.
The map.
He sat at the small table in the basement while Sarah leaned against the wall beside him, arms crossed.
The screen lit in clean lines and cold geometry.
Coordinates.
Schematics.
Underground corridors.
A facility buried beneath what used to be a decommissioned logistics hub thirty miles away.
“Your dad didn’t just build a bunker,” Sarah said quietly. “He built an ark.”
Tom swallowed. “For the people who would survive what he helped start.”
She looked at him. “And you’re supposed to be the gatekeeper.”
He didn’t argue.
Because the truth was heavier than denial.
“They’re going to come,” Sarah said.
Tom’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “I know.”
“And when they do?”
Tom closed the tablet.
“I’ll decide who I am,” he said.
Sarah studied him. “You already are.”
That night, the wind picked up.
Not a storm—just enough to make the house creak, enough to remind them that the world still moved even when the systems didn’t.
Tom lay on the basement couch, staring at the ceiling, the hum of the generator beneath him like a heartbeat he didn’t trust.
Sarah sat on the floor near the couch, sorting through supplies they’d started organizing into neat rows.
“You ever think about how weird this is?” she asked.
Tom turned his head slightly. “Which part?”
“All of it,” she said. “Two weeks ago I was arguing with my mom about where I was going to live next year. Now I’m inventorying canned food in a bunker.”
Tom smiled faintly. “Life’s got range.”
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