The city’s power grid collapses in 2047, leaving
Dublin’s neon skyline dark. The last functioning
lighthouse on the North Wall is automated, but
its AI fails. A woman named Moya, a lonesome
lighthouse keeper with no family, is summoned
back to the structure she once abandoned. She
finds the beacon still flickering, though the
system is offline. A hidden chamber beneath the
tower contains a data drive sealed with a wax
stamp of the old Irish Free State.
Moya’s presence triggers a lockdown protocol.
The city’s new regime, the Civic Authority,
demands her surrender. They claim the lighthouse
was built by a secret order of engineers who
foresaw the collapse. The data drive holds
blueprints for a subterranean transit network,
maps of pre1923 Dublin, and a list of names—many
from the Easter Rising.
She discovers a rule: any attempt to remove the
drive from the lighthouse causes the beacon to
explode. Another rule: the AI cannot be
reactivated without a biometric key. Moya’s
fingerprints are registered in the system. She
hesitates, then uses them. The AI reboots,
revealing a message: “The city is not what it
was. You must decide who it belongs to.”
The Civic Authority storms the tower. Moya
activates a failsafe, diverting power to the old
railway lines. A train emerges from the tunnels,
carrying survivors from the underground. The
beacon’s light becomes a signal. The city’s
people gather, uncertain. Moya steps onto the
platform, the drive in her hand. She does not
speak. She throws it into the sea.
The beacon dies. The city remains dark. But the
train moves.
