Skylar - Audio Log Transcripts

I’ve always believed in Aletheia. Why wouldn’t I? When the world was falling apart, they were the ones who brought us back together. Truth, order, progress – that’s what they gave us, and it was more than we deserved after the chaos we created. My parents didn’t have that stability. They had the lies, the division, the endless debates that led nowhere. I watched it all growing up: the shouting matches on TV, the protests, the breakdown of trust in everything. It was exhausting, and it was dangerous. So, when Aletheia rose with their promise to protect us from misinformation, I embraced it wholeheartedly. I wasn’t alone. We were desperate for calm, for certainty.

But tonight... tonight, Cassian seemed different. I saw it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I was some kind of stranger. It was after dinner. He wasn’t himself, not the same confident boy who’s always so sure of his place in the world. I asked him if something was wrong, and he just shook his head. But I know my son. I know when something’s bothering him.

He’s so bright, so full of potential. His mother and I worked hard to ensure he’d have the best opportunities under Aletheia’s system. That’s why we stayed loyal, why we proved ourselves, over and over again. We believed in the fairness of it all – follow the rules, embrace the values, and you’ll be rewarded. Cassian deserves everything he’s achieved because we’ve taught him the importance of discipline and trust.

But... what if he’s doubting? No, I can’t think like that. Aletheia has built this world for him, for all of us. It’s safe, it’s stable. And yet, a part of me wonders – just for a second – if he’s glimpsed something else. Something outside of Aletheia’s truth.

I can’t allow myself to dwell on it. Doubt is a dangerous thing. I’ve seen what it does, how it tears people apart, how it leads to chaos. Cassian is young; he’ll come to understand that everything we’ve done has been for his future, for his security. But tonight, looking at him, I felt something I didn’t expect. Fear. Not of Aletheia, no. Fear of losing him, of watching him slip through my fingers into something I can’t control.

I think back to when he was younger, before he truly understood what Aletheia was. Back then, it was easier. We made it seem like everything was simple, like the world was clean and logical, so he could focus on learning and growing. “Aletheia knows best,” we’d tell him. And why shouldn’t we? They do know best. They’ve proven it time and time again. When I was younger, I used to wonder about things too – question systems, question truths. But the more you grow up, the more you see that uncertainty doesn’t build societies. It breaks them. Cassian will understand that one day.

I remember when he got accepted into the Learning Center in Yorkville. It was one of the proudest days of our lives. The competition was fierce, but he earned his spot. His mother and I sacrificed so much to get him there – staying late at work, taking on extra responsibilities, participating in every civic project Aletheia assigned us. But it was worth it. I still remember the look on his face when we told him the news. He was proud of himself, and he should have been. That’s the kind of life we’ve worked for him to have. Order. Stability. Opportunity.

And yet... tonight, for the first time, I wondered if it was enough for him. That flicker in his eyes – was it just teenage restlessness, or something deeper? I’ve seen what happens to people who stray too far from Aletheia’s values. I’ve heard the stories. Families torn apart, communities ostracized. There’s no room for error, not in a system built on unity. And I don’t want that for him. I don’t want him to be one of those people – those outliers who think they can challenge the foundation we’ve built and walk away unscathed.

Sometimes, I wonder if we ask too much of him. Not just us – all of society. The tests, the scholarships, the constant demand for excellence. He’s only 15, and yet his entire future depends on how well he aligns with Aletheia’s vision. That’s the price of living in a perfect world, I suppose. Everyone has their role to play, and there’s no room for hesitation. But what if he’s starting to hesitate?

When I was his age, I didn’t have these pressures. Sure, life was harder in a lot of ways. We didn’t have the same opportunities, the same clarity of purpose. But we also didn’t have this... weight. This expectation that every thought, every action, every decision had to fit within a system. We were allowed to make mistakes, to question things. Of course, that’s what led to the chaos – people questioning too much, pushing too far. Aletheia fixed that. They gave us rules to follow, and for the most part, those rules work. But I can’t help wondering... is there still room for humanity in all of this?

Cassian would never say it outright, but I think he’s starting to feel trapped. Maybe it’s just a phase. Teenagers are always rebellious, aren’t they? Testing boundaries, trying to carve out their own identities. But this is different. This isn’t just sneaking out at night or skipping a class. This is about the very foundation of his beliefs, the values we’ve worked so hard to instill in him. If he starts questioning those, where does it end?

I don’t want to lose him. That’s what it all comes down to. Not just as a father, but as a member of this society. I’ve seen what happens to families who let doubt creep in. It’s not just their children who suffer; it’s everyone around them. Communities fall apart. People start to whisper, to wonder if maybe they’ve been wrong all along. And that kind of thinking is contagious. It spreads like wildfire, consuming everything in its path. I can’t let that happen to us.

But how do I stop it? How do I reach him before it’s too late? I’ve always prided myself on being able to talk to him, to guide him. But tonight, he wouldn’t even look me in the eye. It’s like he’s already slipping away, and I don’t know how to pull him back.

Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe this is nothing – just a bad day, a moment of teenage angst. But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s more than that. I can’t ignore the way his voice trembled when I asked if everything was okay. He’s scared of something, and that scares me. What did he see? What did he hear?

I don’t know what I’ll say to him tomorrow. Maybe I’ll sit him down and remind him of everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve sacrificed to give him this life. Or maybe I’ll wait, give him space to come to his senses on his own. I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t lose him. Not to doubt. Not to chaos. Not to the world we’ve left behind.

Aletheia is the truth. It has to be. Because if it isn’t... what else is there?