Chapter 1: The first tear in 190 years

On the cemetery of gramms grandma of lina something unexpected happens Eyes drip this isn't usual but impossible. What happens next?

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“Oh. She died.
I suppose I should take her for burial.”
Her voice was calm. Flat. And how could it be different �" when it had been one hundred and ninety years since anyone had cried?
No tears for the dead. No grief. Only clean words. Simple acts.
Lina watched from the corner. She was five years old. She had never fit well in this world. Her parents often said so �" in their careful, emotionless way.
“She is… unusual.” “Too curious.” “Too... reactive.”
At school, the other children sat still. They answered as taught. Sang as taught. But Lina asked questions. Looked at things too long. And here �" now �" in this cold room, where her grandmother’s breath had stopped �" her chest filled with something she did not understand.
A pressure. A trembling. And then, the sound broke loose:
“No! Grandma! No! This can’t�"!” A cry. Sharp. Loud. The impossible sound. Her mother looked down at her �" expression calm �" but with something else now:
A wetness beneath her eyes. Drops falling. She did not know what they were. And so, softly, she asked:
“What are you doing, dear darling?”
Lina could not answer. The tears would not stop. Her chest was breaking open �" a thing too big to hold. Her parents exchanged a glance. Even as they spoke �" their own eyes blurred, drops slipping down. They did not understand. They did not name it. Only:
“This is not correct, Lina.”
“You must stop this.”
“You will be adjusted.” Her father took her by the hand, firmly, calmly. “Come home.” They would report this. The Feed would know. An anomaly. A correction would be required.

Later. At school, the day after. Lina sat at her desk. The others around her were quiet. She felt raw �" eyes sore, chest tight �" but the tears had stopped. Still, something had changed. A boy beside her glanced over �" his gaze lingering longer than usual. The teacher began the morning rhyme.
“Mary had a little lamb...” The class spoke in chorus �" cold, even. But then, Lina’s voice trembled. Soft at first �" different. Not flat. Not controlled. The boy’s gaze stayed on her. He blinked �" once, twice �" then rubbed at his eye. A tiny tear. Just one. The teacher stopped. Silence fell. She looked at Lina. And for a moment �" her lips pressed together �" uncertain. Then, words again �" smooth, rehearsed: “This is not correct, Lina.” “You will attend guidance.”

That night. In the home-unit. Behind closed doors. Her parents sat together �" low voices, still faces. But there was a flicker of something in their eyes. “She will be corrected.”
“Before it spreads.” “We should have limited Gramma’s influence sooner.”
“We... failed protocol.” A pause. A breath held too long. Then, quietly: “Do you... feel anything?” Her father looked away. “No. We must act. The Feed is watching.”

END of Chapter 1.