The story of the Cypherpunks... and the price of freedom: A razor-sharp utopia built on lies vs. a rebellion buried in code. When the system glitches, Syntra must choose.

Hey. Are you ready for this?

[Preceding sounds: Outdoor noise, urban chaos, heavy breathing] [Syntra] : The wail of alarm sirens sliced through the silence, followed by scattered screams and distant explosions. Just for a heartbeat, I couldn’t tell if this was real or just a nightmare. My eyelids fought to stay shut, still heavy with sleep, resisting the madness unfolding probably somewhere outside.

I forced them open. A slow blink. Come on. One. Two. Three. Now faster. Ok! It worked!

Suddenly, the top of my capsule hissed, unsealing itself. Yup, no manual override. It had sensed I wasn’t asleep. Or worse, it had decided I shouldn’t be...

Woha?! Another sound, louder this time. A bang. Something got smashed. Then, ragged yells. A single gunshot. And the entire chorus of them. My brain still sluggish, but one thought cut through: Something’s wrong!

I pushed myself up and crept toward the main room. Almost instantly, my parents appeared there as well, their faces mirroring my own confusion, and fear.

Lights flicked on. Motion detected. The wall-screen bloomed to life, a wraparound 3D hologram, sharp as reality. Of course. In our modern world, everything breathed data. The house didn’t wait for commands; it knew. Very convenient, if you ask me. No switches. No delays. Effortless living—the way things were meant to be.

This time, however, the screen broke from its standard cycle. How come there's not even a single add? Normally the 15-minute reel is starting every session, and then every half-hour is packed with all the latest market essentials. We need them!

I scrubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palm. Eh? The priority news broadcast? ‘Not a good sign,’ I thought. The tightness in my stomach was proof enough…

It also seemed the first wave of drones had come from above, shredding the sky into a weird electric hum, loud enough to penetrate the room. The sound wasn’t just heard. It vibrated through every fibber of human tissue. Not quite a noise. More a frequency that bypassed the ears and drilled straight into the spine. Scary. Probably their opening weapon, deployed before the bullets…

A dull metallic buzz, I felt it through my fingertips, then, chest, back, skull... The entire body. Creepy. But, ok, at least it shook me fully awake.

For seconds (um?, minutes?, not sure) I’d been trapped in the hologram’s glow: violent scenes flashing silently, the speaker’s lips moving without sound. My ears rang with nothing but the street’s chaos. I didn’t hear a word. Until now.

The voice snapped into focus—and... it did send its message directly into my brain:

[Speaker] : "ATTENTION ALL RESIDENTS. An armed faction designated ‘Cypherpunks’ has breached multiple districts. Hostiles are heavily armoured and focused on destroying critical infrastructure. Their methods aren’t consistent with prior barbarism—this time they are an existential threat."

[Syntra] : The 3D hologram speaker delivered this with a voice cold as steel, yet his lips curled in a polite, practiced smile. For a moment, I wondered if this was some kind of sick joke. But the scenes flashing beside him showed carnage in its purest form. It was real. It was happening!

[Background: Glass shatters, fire erupts] [Syntra] : Wha—!? Molotov's everywhere. Crazy! Their glass bellies bursting mid-air. Liquid fire unspooled, igniting everything it touched.
The sky choked under a funeral shroud of smoke. Thick and greasy, glowing orange from the city’s burning bones. A chill bristled down my neck. Meanwhile, the speaker continued his message:

[Speaker] : “DO NOT PANIC. We are in this together. I repeat: Do NOT panic. Remain in your apartments. All exits non-negotiable. Administer prescribed special medication. Dosage auto-calibrated to your biometrics. Violations trigger –15 Social Credit and suspension of extra privilege 7, even for highest-tier citizens. Remember: This is for your own safety. Compliance ensures protection.”

[Syntra] : Terrified, I looked at my parents. My mother’s face had gone paper-white, her fingers digging into the couch. My father sat rigid, nodding along with the hologram speaker’s words like a metronome. What an awkward scene.

Just like reading my mind, she sighed deeply and started speaking under her breath, her voice thin yet confident.

[Background: Emergency Broadcast – "Security measures fully activated. Stay calm. Rust is your duty. Obedience is your shield. Await further instructions. Your government is resolving the issue. Non-compliance will be treated as a threat to public safety. I repeat: Stay calm. Await further instructions."]

[Mother] : “Ha! See? He just said' — 'Security measures FULLY activated’... Ahww... yes, of course: 'TRUST IS our DUTY.' Thank you!!! The Wise Leaders! WHAT would we do... without YOU!? How... could we ever handle these... um? these, 'CYBOR-GUNS' ourselves???!”

[Syntra] : “Mom? You probably mean ‘CYPHER – PUNKS?’ I muttered, more out of reflex than conviction.

[Father] : "Pff! Son! Don't be ridiculous! What’s the difference?!"

[Syntra] : Then, angry-faced, fingers locked so tight his knuckles bleached white, he continued:

[Father] : “Barbarians! They’ve always envied our prosperity. I do remember their early days—how the Great Reforms of 2030 drove them insane. Like dogs chewing through their own leashes."

[Syntra] : He turned to me, eyes sharpening. Cobra focus. His lip twisted in disgust. Something new. Totally. Kinda weird…

[Father] "Listen, Syntra. You’re old enough to hear the truth."

[Syntra] : Uuu, “old enough?”, did he really said that? Ok, it got me. I was curious—but nervous, too. Seventeen. Uhm? Was I really ready for whatever thing he was about to say?

[Father] : “These people are nothing more than privacy zealots who believe disagreement makes them virtuous! See, their fake ‘freedom’ is just an excuse to ignore reality.”

[Syntra] : Next, he jabbed a finger at the hologram, now replaying grainy footage of fully masked figures hurling burning bottles into the streets. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Clearly, he tried to calm down.

[Father] : “Disgraceful! Look at them. Anarcho-cryptic children throwing tantrums. Living in sewage. Like rats. Disgusting! Too lazy to meet even the baseline standards. Do not underestimate them, Syntra. These people are dangerous. One day you’ll have your own family—and you’ll need to be strong enough to protect it."

[Syntra] : My mother nodded, though her eyes were locked on the glitching headlines beneath the speaker’s smirk. Her voice... well,... too quick, like she was reciting lines.

[Mother] "Oh my! They want to drag us back to the Dark Ages! Listen to your father. Yes! He is smart. Dear, Son. Um... He KNOWS exactly what he’s talking about."

[Syntra] : Father lifted his palm, not just to silence her, but to punctuate the command. His gaze never left mine. Hm... This wasn’t just a lesson, it was an excavation... Wow? I wondered in my mind: Was he about to peel back the glossy skin of our community? And... To show me the festering truth beneath?

I've seen the infection that had erupted tonight, shattering our mandated peace with its screams and fire. exactly what had stolen the engineered perfection of our melatonin-sealed capsules, disturbing the State’s carefully calibrated sleep cycles. The very foundation of our efficient lives.

Yup! I agree with him! These people ARE Barbarians. … After a while, he started again, his voice was low yet sharp:

[Father] : "2008 or maybe, hm, 2009—that's when the rot began. I wasn't born yet, but schools drilled it into us. Back then, they still taught history, showed us exactly what those crypto-nuts destroyed. When our civilized system finally won, they cut that curriculum. Too divisive.

Anyways. We’re talking early 2000s. That’s when some ‘pseudonymous crank’ published a manifesto. Dry, technical nonsense only programmers and anarchists could love. At first? Nobody took it seriously. ‘Peer-to-peer electronic cash,’ they called it.

Absolute rubbish! Yet somehow it spread. Ah! Delusional people. They even tried to force it as money—no central control, no way to correct imbalances or steer resources.

Ha! Imagine son, these early ‘adopters’ weren’t even economists. Just black-market peddlers. Weirdos with too much time and too little sense, who simply confused defiance for freedom.”

[Syntra] : His fists tightened… The only outward sign of the fury boiling beneath his practiced calm. I nodded along, though, most of it went over my head. I was too deep in my own thoughts:

‘Hm? Defiance? Why break what functions?! ‘Freedom? Mmm? Awkward concept. A distraction. Progress thrives on structure, not philosophical vapor. Even I know that!’

Suddenly, father snapped his fingers. My eyes focused as his voice took on a harder edge. And so he continued the story:

[Father] : "By around 2030 or so... yeah, a few years after I was born... They were screaming in the streets like doomsday cultists. "Opt out before it’s too late!" they used to shout, adding rubbish like: "Soon, they’ll freeze any opponents! Ba! Nonsense! Obviously. The New Order only restricted accounts for actual anti-social behaviour. For our safety, of course.

Your grandfather never had problems. Nor did those who complied.

Remember, son, harmony thrives where rules rule. My whole childhood worked better than fine. So’s yours, don’t you think?

Look, we bloom under their law. But those fanatics? They’d rather burn paradise than admit they were wrong. Still yelling about ‘privacy,’ still using that weird form of 'decentralized money', still demanding we throw everything away for some... um, some... Well, ridiculous idea of ‘self-responsibility’ and complete independence.”

[Background: Dark amusement, triumphant laughter] [Syntra] : A bitter laugh burst out of him, the sound when you're sure you’ve already won, no matter what. You know, the kind that comes of a man stepping over bodies on his way to collect the prize…

Hearing all this, seeing my mother’s silent, determined nod, and my father’s wise face still lit by the violent holograms flickering across the walls, my knees simply went weak. I felt nauseous.

Maybe... tonight’s chaos was too much for my young mind. Or maybe... It was the extra dose of happiness hormones released into our bloodstream according to the fresh regulation. Yeah, fine, I should be used to them, but not like this. Um..? Not in such a high dose. We usually took them only every other day. Not in the middle of the night like this, and… not right after a melatonin sleep capsule.

[Background: deep breathing, heavy, repeated several times] [Syntra] : Don’t puke. Don’t…— The mantra looped in my skull as my stomach lurched. My head weighed a ton, thoughts splintering. Half panic, half chemical haze. Oh, like two wolves tearing me apart directly from the inside.

My mother must have noticed my shaky state. She stepped closer and gently patted my back. A tenderness I’d only experienced a handful of times as a small child. Such overtly human gestures weren’t common in our society. They didn’t need to be. Yup, we had advanced substitutes for love, joy, surprise, excitement. All of it. Too much physical closeness is, frankly, um, a little disgusting. And, it takes way TOO much time and energy. A pointless relic. But right then, aww, I appreciated mother’s rare act of warmth.

Ok. I'm done for the night. Let's move on.

I told them I was heading to the VR room. After tonight’s overload of simply EVERYTHING, I needed extra recovery. My parents agreed without protest.

They also settled into their massage chairs, syncing to their own preferred simulations. Yeah, less fancy than the full meta-worlds my generation had access to, but I wouldn’t judge their old-fashioned habits. Especially, not in my current state.

[Background: Footsteps. Automatic door closed. High-pitched sound; VR system booting] [Syntra] : I entered the room. A thin, glowing panel lit up on the wall, acknowledging my presence. My left arm, the one chipped for pleasure, obviously, not work, buzzed in sync.

Finally. Relief!

My nanotech contact lenses waited in their charging dock, tiny and slick like droplets of liquid glass. I slid them onto my eyes, blinking as they adjusted instantly, sharpening my vision. The ergo-gel chair moulded to my body as I sank in. Aww, soft, but supportive. What an incredible feeling!

'Begin,' I murmured. Didn’t even need to. The room already knew I was here, already started pulling me into another reality. Wooooow!

[*Background: Footsteps on cobblestones. Birds. Light breeze. Occasional chatter. Mix of distant human activity] [Syntra] : The world unfolded around me like... a... DREAM. Second after second softening into focus. A cobbled path curved gently between houses, their walls built of honey-coloured wood and sun-warmed stone. Each home stood with room to breathe, nestled among gardens and old shade trees. Broad windows drank in the light. Interesting. And, from inside came the murmur of voices, steps, the clink of dishes.

Hm... The air smelled of fresh bread, warm milk, and honey. Ah... amazing! Golden sunlight spilled over the entire place. Above, birds trilled in harmony, their songs threading through the air like music. Children darted between the houses, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

Yeah. It was alive, but peaceful. Not wild, not tame. Just right. Mmm...? I’d never seen a place like this before, not even in VR. It felt... um? Different. Organic in a way I couldn’t explain.

I looked around.

A woman knelt in one of the gardens, her hands dark with soil as she tucked seedlings into neat rows. Fat tomatoes glowed like lanterns. Herbs grew so thick their scent hung in the air. Uhm... I love it!

Nearby, a man tinkered with a small, boxy machine, its fans whirring like a drowsy insect. Next to him, a group of teens, um, kinda my age?, huddled around a massive wooden table, their hands flying over a tangle of wires, some old-school laptops, and strange little boxes blinking with cryptic lights. Funny. And... I felt envy. I wanted to join them... I’d never had so many friends at once. But they were too absorbed to notice me. Whatever. I've decided to move on, curious about the rest of this place.

Ha! AND there IT was! That ONE house in particular. It caught my attention. It was awesome. It rose like a temple of wood and glass, its roof studded with shining panels and antennas. Something about it pulled me closer.

Then... I saw... the sign carved into a plank above its door: ‘C - Y - P…’ — Hum...?! No, no, no. No way!

‘CYPHERPUNK HOUSE?’, 00 21?’ — Really? My mind's gone crazy! Is this…? How come?" I didn’t know whether to walk in or call out.

Suddenly, the vision blurred, cracked, and dissolved into darkness. My heart pounded. Impossible! Were those street barbarians hacking our system?! C'mon!

Then, a message appeared in front of my eyes:

[Background: Mysterious female voice. Half-whisper] : "Hi, Syntra. Please. Don’t be afraid. Mmm. We just wanted to show you one of our villages. Those crazy stories your father told you painted a different reality, didn’t they? Yup. Everything he believes in is fiction. Lies. Just like the chaos you've seen before on the holographic news.”

[Syntra] : Huu! I read it breathlessly. Devouring every SINGLE word. Imagining some kind of... um?... whisper taking over my head.

Ok. Breathe, I told myself. Yup, I need to stay calm. I CAN do that. Let me read more. I have to! Yes... It just feels like... Uhm...

[Mysterious voice] : “Listen, Syntra. Our lives are too busy, you've seen it, full of work and happiness. Too joyful to invade your world. It’s NOT us attacking the streets, but your neighbours. Those who’ve had enough of the system. Yet who still aren’t ready to choose freedom, and join us. For you, it’s not too late. Yes. You’re more than welcome in our cypherpunk family.

To feel... free. To BE free! There are villages like this all over the globe.

The only price? Eh...To learn how to take responsibility of your own life. Oh... and it would probably require leaving your family behind. Yeah. Sorry, young man. Unfortunately, they’re too controlled by the system. They won’t give it up, not even for you. Not an easy choice? Or maybe… Just. Please. Think about it, buddy."

[Syntra] : Oh my?! What now? This whole thing is... Huh, INSANE! But, um? I... yeah, I even like it. It actually feels so real. Not like the overwhelming horror stories my father had fed me with earlier this night. But still… Am I ready to leave? I’m only seventeen!

Should I really abandon everything, and start over? Mmm… "Freedom fed by my conscious steps, or... the sweet lie that feeds on me like a parasite?" Maybe. That's THE AWAKENING? And, the time is now... Is it? Ok! "What — would — YOU — choose????

THE END.