Echoes from the Depths

 There was something different about that day. Helena felt a strange tension as she walked through the narrow corridors of the Fifth Caste. If she focused, she could clearly hear the constant whispering of people about the selection process, like a poorly kept secret spreading from one mouth to another.

 In the streets, small groups of workers gathered, exchanging opinions in hushed tones and furtive glances. Some of the older ones recalled past failures, sharing stories of acquaintances who never returned—a warning to hopeful youth. Others made excited bets on who would have the courage to register and, more importantly, who would survive the first challenge.

 Some elders, no longer required to work, carried hope in their eyes, while others simply shook their heads in disbelief. After all, many believed the process was nothing more than a trap—a glimmer of hope designed to shatter the hearts of the young, just as it had shattered theirs in their youth.

 Helena, in particular, agreed that the unfounded hope most young people her age had about the process was cruel in the end. Even if everyone from her caste who registered were geniuses, athletes, or strong, it was almost impossible for two or three of them to succeed. Most hadn't even completed basic schooling, didn't eat enough to build strong muscles, or were worn out from heavy labor. Truthfully, Helena couldn't think of a single peer who would survive the first challenge, herself included. Even the strongest and smartest from her caste rarely stood a real chance against those groomed from birth in the higher castes.

 The problem was that hope and dreams, dangerous as they were, had haunted Helena's mind for a long time. She didn't think about the selection process for wealth or status. For her, it was a way to uncover the truth—or at least part of it. She had heard, too many times to be a lie, that the selection process included access to a colossal library, a repository of all the world's knowledge. Just the thought of it made her anxious. To be in the same place that held the history of her entire world—that was the real prize that drew her in. For someone like Helena, who had never understood why she was confined to the four walls of her caste, just reading pages that explained why everything had a purpose would be fulfilling.

 It was because of the library that she continued studying after work, ran home every day after her shifts, and always chose the heaviest sack of seeds to carry in the fields. But this left her with a dilemma: was she just another fool who would be consumed by the false hope of the process, or was it better to accept her fate?

 That morning, her mind was racing, filled with thoughts, including the conversation she had the previous night with Ethan, her neighbor and childhood friend.

 "Are you going to try?" he asked, his brown eyes alive but restless.

 Helena hesitated. She didn't want to answer. Admitting she was considering it felt like a weakness, as if it were something forbidden.

 "I don't know. What about you?" she replied, avoiding his gaze.

 "I think I will," he said with a smile, though his unsure expression betrayed his words. "We've got nothing to lose, right?"

 It was an obvious lie, of course. They had everything to lose. The process was brutal, and the stories of failure outnumbered those of success in every caste.

 Now, in the fields, Helena struggled to focus on her work. The strong smell of chemical fertilizer filled the air, and the heat from synthetic lamps made sweat drip down everyone's faces, evidence of the daily toil in agriculture.

 Around noon, as she adjusted the irrigation regulators, a different sound broke through the constant hum of the day: the central caste bell. It was rare to hear it, used only for significant announcements.

 Everyone stopped. Voices fell silent, and the workers looked up, as if something extraordinary was about to happen.

 From atop the central tower, a hologram was projected. It showed a man from the Second Caste, impeccably dressed in the blue garments reserved for official communications. He stood with a rigid posture, and his cold voice echoed through the corridors.

 "Citizens of the subterranean world, the registrations for this year's Selection Process are now officially open. Those who have turned twenty must register at designated posts within their castes. This is the only legitimate path to ascension. May perseverance and loyalty to the system guide you."

 The hologram disappeared, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

 "It's happening," murmured a woman beside Helena. "It's begun."

 Back at work, no one spoke another word, but the exchanged glances said enough. The Process was a possibility—however slim—of changing their lives. But change came at a price, and not everyone was willing to pay it.

 By the end of the day, the news of the registrations had made its way onto every newspaper delivered to citizens each afternoon. Helena returned home with her mind full of conflicting thoughts.

 In the small kitchen, Lyra sat at the table, her eyes fixed on an old notebook filled with scribbles Helena had never been able to decipher.

 "Did you hear?" Helena asked, dropping her bag to the floor.

 "About the Process?" Lyra looked up, her tired eyes still sharp. "Yes, I heard."

 Helena sat at the table, absentmindedly toying with a piece of bread.

 "Do you think it's worth it?"

 Lyra sighed, looking at her daughter with a serious expression.

 "The Process isn't for everyone, Helena. It destroys more people than it saves. But…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "If you decide to try, I won't stop you. I just want you to know what you're risking. The decision is yours, but talk to me and your grandmother before you make it. There are things you don't know yet… things you should."

 Helena didn't respond. There was something in her mother's voice—a weight she couldn't understand—that made it clear this decision wouldn't be simple.

 That night, as she lay in bed, Helena's mind refused to rest. No matter how hard she tried to push the doubts away, it felt as though something was calling her, whispering that her destiny was only beginning.