Two weeks later, Aurelia learned exactly why Priya Rai, director of Dreamtime Protocol, was not to be fucked with. Half Nepali, half Wiradjuri Nation, she had a reputation for making the impossible happen, no matter the obstacles or politics involved. Her calm demeanour masked a razor-sharp focus and a savage wit, and she did not hesitate when it came to making tough decisions when the project, or her people, were at stake. Beneath her composed exterior was a relentless determination; she had an uncanny ability to read the room, anticipate problems before they arose, and ensure that everyone, from executives to interns, understood that failure was simply not an option. Anyone who mistook her courtesy for weakness quickly learned their mistake.
The confrontation happened in front of the entire crew. Priya was reviewing the day's schedule when Grant Ellison, a studio executive with the sort of tan that came from a packet, rather than actual sunlight, strolled over.
"Priya, just a thought," he began, loud enough for everyone to hear. "If we dialled back the cultural references, made it more, you know, "universal," we could really broaden the appeal. Maybe lose the Dreamtime angle and just focus on the tech? Audiences love tech."
Priya didn't look up from her notes.
"Oh, absolutely, Grant," She said, her voice level, "Let's make it another vaguely futuristic thriller with no soul, like every other thing on your slate. In fact, why not set it in a beige conference room? Perhaps call it Spreadsheet Protocol? I'm sure everyone is desperate for more PowerPoint action sequences."
Grant faltered, his eyes desperately scanning the crew for back up. He found none.
"I'm only saying, if we took out some of the, uh, more… specific elements, the story could really sing."
She turned to him at last, her smile all teeth and poison.
"Sing, Grant? Or hum the same tired tune you've been playing since 2013? If you want something that doesn't scare anyone, perhaps consider a cooking show. This project is called Dreamtime Protocol for a reason. But I'm sure the world's waiting with bated breath for your great vision. After all, beige is the new black, isn't it?"
The crew tried to stifle their laughter. Grant's face coloured, but Priya was already moving on, arranging call sheets with the calm precision of someone who had just eviscerated a man with nothing but her words.
"I think I'm in love with her," Aurelia whispered to Iluka Warren, her co-star as they watched from a safe distance. He nodded in agreement,
"Me too. Or scared. They feel like the same thing at the moment."
"I heard she made Lincoln Selby cry," Jasper Rennick, the show's antagonist joined them. Lincoln Selby was the owner of NovaX, "And then he apologised to her!"
Aurelia decided that the foreshore promenade of Sydney's Royal Botanical Gardens was quite possibly her new favourite place in the city. It stretched peacefully around the water's edge, curving into manicured lawns and lush greenery. Beyond the low brick wall separating land from water, Farm Cove stretched lazily out into the near distance, with the Opera House and Harbour Bridge framing the view, depending on where you stood.
Right now, her view of the cove was second to none, because she was standing on the low, brick wall, about to jump into it. It was strange how the water, which had looked perfectly blue moments before, suddenly seemed a lot darker now that she was looking at it this closely, although the safety divers had assured her that, as far as they could tell, there were currently no sharks.
"Wait, what do you mean, "currently no sharks?""
"They're in the Harbour all year round," Ernie, the lead diver called up to her helpfully, "They get quite aggro this time of year because the water is still warm!"
Aurelia felt quite faint,
"How aggro do they get?"
He considered the question,
"They'll take your arm off, if they fancy a snack."
She climbed down from the wall,
"Priya!"
From the comfort of their folding chairs, Iluka, Jasper and Tarni laughed as she skittered across the lawn. Alongside Aurelia, they made up the core cast, the team of scientists working on the titular protocol. Iluka and Tarni were Gadigal people, the aboriginal community native to the Sydney Harbour area for sixty thousand years. Jasper was from New Zealand, and, although he'd been based in Melbourne for over decade, nobody ever let him forget it.
"Bloody pom," Tarni said good naturedly.
For hours, the crew had been set up in the gardens, shooting the dramatic final scene for the first episode of the Dreamtime Protocol. Though the cast and crew paid little attention, a small crowd had gathered behind cordons and a few security personnel some distance away, quietly observing the proceedings. Aurelia was struck by how relaxed Sydneysiders seemed to be around well-known faces; they were unfazed by the presence of celebrities, but the sight of cameras and a production always drew curious onlookers. The atmosphere was one of easy anticipation, as if everyone understood the significance of what was unfolding yet maintained the city's trademark casual approach to spectacle.
Priya stepped quietly beside Aurelia, lowering her voice so only she could hear.
"Don't worry about the water, love. We've checked it twice over, and you're not going to be alone out there. If you start feeling off or need a moment, just signal me – we're not going to rush this, okay?"
She was so kind it made Aurelia want to crawl into her lap and tell her about her dead father. She decided this would probably not be in her best interests.
"I'm really sorry about this, Priya," She looked away, hand shading her eyes from the sun, scanning the water anxiously, "I just… I have a bit of a thing about sharks. There aren't any scenes with snakes or spiders, are there?" She asked suddenly, horror flashing across her face.
Priya offered a reassuring smile, her hand hovering gently at Aurelia's elbow, a grounding presence; "If you don't like sharks, snakes or spiders, I've got some bad news for you about Australia. Listen, you're braver than you think, and everyone here's got your back. If you need to stop or start again, it's completely fine." Her tone was gentle, worlds away from the brusque instructions she'd given Grant earlier. Here she was patient, nurturing, unmistakably invested in Aurelia's comfort. Priya's eyes were warm, her concern genuine, and Aurelia felt the nerves in her chest loosen, just a little, as the moment stretched quietly between them.
A few moments later, she was ready to go again.
"Definitely okay to do this, Aurelia?" Priya's voice called out behind her. She gave a thumbs up, and then breathed out slowly, rolling her shoulders, loosening the tension.
"Whenever we're all ready?" Priya said, extending it as a question to the rest of the crew.
There was a clamour of agreement.
"Action!"
"Any last objections?" Garret Mead, Lead Systems Architect for the Protocol, asked lightly, unable to hide his smirk as Maeve shrugged out of her dress, leaving her lab coat and shoes in the grass. He was several steps back from the water, his sleeves rolled with an ease that felt practiced. His entire presence reeked of somebody who believed the parameters were under control.
Doctor Maeve Lockhart, Lead Research Fellow in Somnology, barely looked at him. She was already swinging her legs over the other side; her gaze fixed on the way the light fractured across the surface of the water.
"This isn't about objections," She said coolly, "It's about observation."
Garrett snorted, unable to hide his contempt,
"That's exactly what this is."
Doctor Aiden Burke, Senior Research Fellow in Cultural Systems and Memory Studies, stood a little apart from them, hands folded loosely in front of him. He was watching Maeve closely. He hadn't spoken since they arrived, and only nodded whilst Garret was explaining the test conditions, but he spoke now, his voice impossibly still,
"You don't have to do this."
It wasn't a challenge, just a statement.
Maeve turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes for the first time. There was something steady there, not caution or alarm, but an attentiveness that made her feel very suddenly, very acutely, seen.
"I know."
Kirra Bird, Community Impact and Ethical Liaison, watched the exchange from behind the equipment they'd set up, tablet tucked underneath her arm. She was less interested in the mechanics than she was the people; how they stood, who spoke, who didn't.
"We're recording physiological response only," She said carefully, "No cognitive prompts. No feedback loop."
Garrett's upper lip curled.
"For now." He said.
Maeve inhaled slowly, breathing in the salt, fig and eucalyptus combination she hadn't been able to associate with anything other than here. She stepped closer to water, letting her toes brush the lip of the wall. It was cold.
"This isn't about what I experience," She said it more to herself than to them, "It's about recording whether the Protocol registers anything without instruction."
"Baseline exposure," Garrett nodded, "Controlled. Clean."
Aiden's jaw tightened.
Maeve didn't wait for consensus. She stepped over the edge. The water closed over her with a shock that stole her breath for half a second, startling in its immediacy. Sounds dropped away and the city vanished. There was only pressure, movement and the muffled, intimate quiet of being submerged.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then, something shifted.
Not a thought, not an image.
It was a sensation, as if the water itself were handing her a memory she hadn't accessed before. It wasn't hers- wasn't anyone's exactly. It was ancient, patient, unbothered by her arrival.
When she thought she might die from lack of oxygen, she kicked once, twice, and broke the surface of the water, inhaling sharply.
On the shore, Garrett and Kirra were bent over the data stream on the tablet, eyes wide.
"Do you see that?" Kirra was breathless, "It's registering without stimulus!"
Aiden didn't acknowledge what she said. He wasn't watching the screen at all. He was watching Maeve as she swam to the edge of the wall, something unreadable flickering across her face.
Maeve shivered as the air hit her skin, heart still racing- not from the cold, but from the unmistakable sense that something had noticed her in return.
"It's not passive," She said quietly. Garrett and Kirra didn't hear her.
Aiden did.
"Cut!"
Ernie's hands were already reaching for her, efficient and practiced. He held her steady for a moment as she blinked the water out of her eyes.
"You good? No sharks, eh?"
"Yeah!" The chill of the water, twinned with the relief that her arm hadn't been eaten by a Great White, made her slightly giddy.
Ernie guided her to where a ladder had been lowered down. Her fingers gripped the rungs as she hauled herself out, water streaming down her body. Adrenaline sang through her veins, sharp and bright; god, she may have felt like she didn't always belong in her own life, but she loved acting.
Iluka grinned and Jasper gave her the thumbs up as one of the assistant directors pulled him and Tarni aside to point out some changes for the next take. She nodded back, smiling widely, her chest heaving as she regained her breath, the water still clinging to her skin.
"Well done," Priya said, her voice thick with satisfaction, "Get yourself dry for now, and we'll review what we shot."
A thick, warm towel was wrapped around her body, and somebody helped her into a light dressing gown. It was Reuban.
"Do you want a hot drink, babe? Hot drink for the hot shit you just served?"
"You honestly make me die," She told him, "Cappuccino?"
He gave her a look like she'd asked him to piss in a cup and feed it to her,
"Its five in the afternoon you heathen. But fine."
Moving out of the path of a boom mic, she found a warm patch of sunlight and let herself relax. She felt good. Present, alive, capable. More like herself than she had felt in a long time, stripped back, unprotected, standing on the edge of something that felt really right..
Instinctively, her gaze was drawn to the crowd outside the set.
She froze.