“Another Naturalist Manipulator, like you?”
Miller nods. “But Paragon was pushing him. Real hard. He was ragged and getting sick and weak, losing weight.” Miller swallows. “One morning, Murph was just gone. I still don’t know what Paragon was trying to get from him, but they told me Murph tested out. As weak as he was, I’m not sure he would survive out in the real world on his own, and he didn’t have anyone else.”
I close the notebook and rub my eyebrows. “So, what do you think Paragon actually did to him?”
Miller tugs at his hood again and turns his head away, but not before I notice he is on the edge of tears. “I can’t—”
Both of us fall silent. No sounds but Miller’s sniffles and shaky breaths as he fights for control of his emotions. Heat rises in my skin. Jade told me Miller only ever had one friend. Maybe the loss of Murphy was too much. Maybe that’s why he’s always so distant.
Jade. Vicki. Both of them are gone, taken out of testing by Forrest. What happened to them? I close my eyes and picture the blue pill in the cup.
If I were Paragon, and willing to go to such lengths as this test, how far would I go to find out if my hypothesis were valid, and to protect them from discovery? Judging by what we’ve been through in this test so far, Paragon will do anything—try anything—to ensure their theories were correct, including taking test subjects and doing additional, and maybe even more extreme, experiments on them individually. The blue pill may only be the beginning. The very thought chases away the chills.
“Oh, God…” A sickening feeling hits my gut like a rock.
“What?”
Jade’s room was trashed when they took her. Someone on the brink of freedom wouldn’t react like that. Jade knew she wouldn’t be coming back. There’s no such thing as testing out. I don’t know what Paragon does with people they take from the floor, but I’m sure it isn’t testing out. That would risk exposing the truth behind their tests. Whatever they are doing to those people must be more… permanent.
I don't dare tell Miller that Murphy is probably dead. He likely already suspects as much. “Miller… we need to get out of here.” My body is shaking. Neck stiff. Legs numb.
I want to do this for my dad, but at what cost? My dad will survive a little longer—maybe long enough for me to get him proper treatment somehow—but we won’t. Not if we test out. I can’t risk putting others through it.
I wave a hand to cool off my burning hot face. “I can only think of one way Paragon lets us out of here.”
Miller places a surprisingly steady hand on my shoulder. “Okay. So, we need to get out of here. How?”
It takes several swallows before I can speak. “We need a telepath to help get the guards attention and open the stairwell doors, but the only one I knew is gone. None of the Telepaths will talk to me.”
“They aren’t so fond of me, either,” Miller smirks, and despite the apparent redness of his eyes and wet cheeks, there’s a mischievous bravado about him.
“We can’t walk out,” I say. “Security.”
“Right. The doors. But your girlfriend—”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I shake my head. “And if something is going on, having Bianca help will only endanger her.”
“So, how then?”
I close my eyes to try and stop the room from spinning.
“Don’t know, but maybe…” I snap my gaze to him. “Persistence. Perseverance. Knowledge.” Miller arches a brow, and I smirk. “My superpower. Brains. Brains and a dream team.”
“You’re insane,” Miller laughs. “You really believe you can think your way out of this?” He waves absently at the museum around us.
“Yes.” Despite the churning in my stomach, I can’t help but grin. “I did it on Testing Day. I’ll make a list of what we need and who we need to get it. Just make sure your stuff is packed and ready to go.”
Dad is a problem I will have to solve later, but I can’t wait around here for Paragon to test me out—to test any of us out. I need information, and to get it, I need the right Powers.
The museum disappears, replaced by blinding white light and Overwatch’s voice.
“Simulation complete.”
25
The door doesn’t immediately swing in like it does when testing completes. I shift, limbs stiff and aching, and roll to my knees using the wall for leverage as I stand. My muscles feel strained beyond their limits, stretched too thin. For a moment, my vision swims and darkens. I press my shoulder to the wall to keep from falling over. Rosie’s healing—along with whatever Celeste did to me—took more from my body than I realized.
It takes longer than I care to admit before I finally reach the door. There’s no handle, so I try to dig my fingers into the edge and pull. Either I’m too weak, or the door is locked because it doesn’t budge.
I’m not sure how long I attempt to get the door open. Long enough that my muscles are stronger again, and the exhaustion is waning in favor of hunger and thirst. After several more failed attempts to open the door, along with pounding on it to see if someone will come by and push it open, I just accept that it’s locked.
But why?
The simulation is over. They should let us out.
I give up and sit on the edge of my stripped bed, staring at the door. Maybe if I try hard enough, Telekinetic Power will spontaneously reveal itself, and the door will swing open? At least, that’s how hard I focus on it, willing it to open.
The hunger hurts, gnawing at my stomach, making my hands shake. They wouldn’t leave me in here to starve, would they? Paragon needs me for their research. Letting me starve to death wouldn’t be of any help at all.
A chime sounds, followed by the grinding of the lock on the doorframe. The door swings open. Finally!
I move as quickly as my body can handle toward the cafeteria.
All evidence of the chaos that ensued in this room before the test began is gone, as if it never happened. The tables and chairs are as they should be, grey tile polished, the walls displaying the sun setting over Elpis’s downtown spires. Does that mean it’s dusk? Is it the same day or not? How many could have passed without our knowledge? Enid said that time passed differently in simulations, so we can’t honestly know how long it’s been. Can’t have been more than two days, or the hunger would have had more severe effects on subjects.
I shift from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently for my food. As soon as it dispenses, I make another selection, and again, until the machine tells me I have reached my limit for the day. I then move on to the Snackables machine and repeat the process, all the while eating as I wait.
No one else enters.
No one else is here.
I’m alone, and the silence is deafening.
Once I finish the meals from the HotServe, I take my snacks and leave the cafeteria. After a couple minutes, I’m standing in front of Miller’s closed door. I knock.
No answer.
I push on the door, it doesn’t budge.
If the simulation is complete and my door has finally opened, shouldn’t his be as well?
I pound on the door this time, though I know there isn’t a point. His door is locked.
“Ugene!”
I spin around to see Trina rushing toward me. As she draws closer, I can see that she is shaking, and her face is a more ghostly pale than her natural alabaster complexion. Before I can ask what’s wrong, her hands grip my arms, jarring an oat bar from my grip. It hits the floor and breaks.
“Is this real? Is it—is it…” Tears well in her eyes, filling my heart with nothing but sympathy. What did she endure before finding us in the museum? What did she endure after I left?
“Yes.” At least, I think it’s real, but her question makes me second-guess my assumption.
Trina’s body crumples as her legs give out, and I barely grab her in time to hold her up. I want to ask her what happened, but also don’t want to make her relive something so traumatic. Instead, I hold her against m
y chest and stroke her stringy, sandy-blond hair. She whimpers into my shirt.
This isn’t right. Any of it. Paragon can’t get away with this. How have they gotten away with this so far? Does the Directorate not realize what’s going on? They signed the bill, allowing people to get forced into this testing. Did they know what they agreed to?
Did I?
I give Miller’s closed door one last glance before leading Trina away. She needs rest. I need help to bring this whole thing to an end. And to do that I need Powers—other people’s Powers.
It doesn’t take long to locate Michael and Dave, and we convene in one of the bathrooms on the floor. By the time I have both of them gathered, Trina has calmed down and now lays on a bed of folded clean scrubs on the bathroom floor.
The first phase of my plan is simple enough—gathering information that will help us either escape or help stop this madness once we get out. To do that, I need the help of these three. I explain my idea—to use their Powers to get a hold of Forrest’s tablet and access it. Dave, Michael, and I discuss how to go about it. Michael resists at first, terrified that DNA imprinting won’t work, that Forrest will suspect it and Michael will be caught, that Paragon will choose to test him out. I manage to talk him down. I admit it puts a lot of risk on his shoulders, but without a telepath to read Forrest’s mind, there isn’t much choice.
Trina begins sitting up straighter, hope blooming in her eyes.
“But how do we get the tablet?” Dave asks. “Forrest never lets it out of his sight.”
“Let me take care of that,” Trina says. The confidence in her tone brings us all to silence.
With our plan in place, we say goodnight as some of the other male subjects enter the bathroom for showers, giving all four of us strange looks—particularly Trina.
Before I can head back to my room, I need to make one more stop.
Celeste’s door is open just a touch. Enough for me to know it isn’t locked like Miller’s was. No light emits from inside, so I rap lightly and call to her before slipping inside and closing the door behind me. I just want to make sure she’s okay.
A lump on the bed tells me that Celeste is here, and her steady breathing says she’s asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, I wedge myself between the desk and the bookshelf and pull my knees to my chest. She needs to know I’m okay, that whatever she did to me, there’s no cause for concern. For now, I close my eyes and just let my tense, aching muscles relax.
~~~
A stream of light comes over the horizon, waking me. I turn to the side and am greeted by a row of books. Then it comes back to me. A strange room. Celeste’s room. I must have fallen asleep waiting for her to wake.
The sunlight reaches to the ceiling, illuminating everything with golden light. I blink and rub the sleep from my eyes. My head aches from using the side of the desk as a pillow all night, and my cramped knees scream when I stretch out my legs and arms. A massive yawn escapes me.
Celeste rolls over, emitting a squeak when she sees me in the corner.
“I’m sorry.” I try—and failing—to stand. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Let you know that I’m okay, too, I guess. I must have fallen asleep waiting for you to wake up.”
Celeste pulls the blankets up and presses her back against the wall at the head of the bed, cowering away from me.
I manage to stand, but she shrinks away when I move closer.
“It’s okay. It’s me, Celeste. Ugene.”
Her guard lowers, and she meets my gaze entirely.
“I’m not sure how to ask this,” I say, fumbling to find the right words, “but what happened?”
Even though she is looking at me, Celeste still holds the blankets between us like a shield. “The circle of life. What once was, comes around again.”
I shake my weary head, unwilling and unable to wrap my mind around her latest riddle. “Why did you leave?”
“The chains have broken.” She starts rocking, clutching the blanket in white knuckles. “He has risen. He comes.”
“Celeste.”
She shakes her head back and forth, rocking. “The chains have broken. He has risen. He comes.”
What is she prattling on about? I scrub a hand through my hair and glance at the door. “I’ll be back later,” I say, accepting I won’t get any real answers from her. Not with the state she’s in.
She just keeps rocking. “The chains have broken. He has risen. He comes.”
I step into the hall and pull the door shut. There’s a commotion in the corridor.
Security. They’re everywhere. Two guards stand sentry a few feet down the hall. Others trot around the corner and take up position next to them. My gut tells me there will be more on the way.
Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I head back toward my room. But I come up short at the corner.
Forrest is at Terry’s door. My heart leaps into my throat, and I dart around the corner to hide, then lean against the wall and strain to listen.
“—but he isn’t easy to read,” Terry says.
“Then force it.”
What are they looking for? Terry warned me that I was asking too many questions. What did he already know?
“Stay put and keep your door shut,” Forrest says. “Your test begins soon.”
The door clicks shut. Forrest’s feet scrape the tiled floor in long strides. And he’s headed in my direction.
Crap. My breaths quicken. I fumble back a couple of steps until my hand brushes a door. I give it a test push, and it opens. I quickly slip backward, facing the door and not caring whose room it is. With another gentle push, the door clicks shut.
“What are you doing here?” the occupant asks.
I spin around.
The drawn features and dark hair are instantly recognizable. Omar. From one of my tests—Aurology, I think. His room smells of jasmine incense, burning somewhere out of sight. While his room has typical furniture, from what I can see, he’s added ethnic touches. A golden and burgundy rug, a finely woven comforter with intricate mandala design of green and yellow, a document box on the bedside table with hand-painted scenes.
I press a finger to my lips.
“Harbinger of Hope.” Omar steps toward me, his hand reaching out.
Instinct makes me lean away, but with the door at my back, there’s nowhere to go.
He doesn’t touch me. His hand floats through the air to the side of my head, as if he’s feeling something.
I glance to the side, shifting my head away from his hand just a little. Nothing is there. The whole thing gives me the creeps. Part of me wants to know what Omar means. But the more substantial part of me just wants to get the hell out. My hand fumbles against the door before I manage to pull it open a crack. Back to the door, I slide away from Omar and peek out.
No one’s in the hall, so I hustle toward my room.
Forrest appears in the hallway that intersects mine. When I round the corner, he looks at me, his shoulders sag. “Where were you?”
“What are you, my mom?” I say. “I went to take a piss.”
“You didn’t report to your room at lockdown.”
Forrest steps toward me and looks me over. He yanks my clean shirt up and inspects my torso without asking.
“What the hell, Forrest?” I swat him away. “I went to visit Celeste.”
He drops the shirt and steps back, clutching his tablet—his tablet! “You were healed.”
“Of course I was.”
“Why were you sleeping in a girl’s room, and why didn’t you report for lockdown?” Does he know? Is he fishing for answers? I shrug. “It isn’t like that. I went to talk, see if she was okay after the test, but she was asleep, and I must have fallen asleep on the floor. We’re friends.”
Forrest waves over my shoulder. Two security guards turn and head away. Every muscle in my body tenses. What do they know?
“We have work to do,” Forrest says. “Let’s go.” He starts up the hallway as if I will just follo
w obediently.
But I don’t. I throw up my hands. “Forrest, I’m exhausted.” My arms are leaden. My eyes burn from poor sleep.
He turns to me. The look he gives me makes it clear I have no say in the matter. “It can’t wait. It has to be now. Either come with me, or I’ll get security to bring you.”
“Jeez.” I shuffle along behind him. “So dramatic.”
As we make our way down the hall, I notice Trina peeking out her door and watching us pass. I give a small shake of the head, but she just winks and closes her door. Forrest rubs his neck and stifles a yawn.
What did she just do?
26
Something about this next test is off. I can feel it before we even walk through the door into the room. It makes my skin crawl, and I can’t say why.
Forrest strides forward with a purpose that makes my head spin. I’m following him, and when he stops so suddenly in front of one of the doors, I almost walk into him.
The voice on the other side of the closed door brings back phantom pains from that attack in the museum. My palms start to sweat.
Terry. The same one who chased me and threatened me in the simulation. The same one who mocked me in the cafeteria. Before the door even opens my heart is racing.
Forrest swipes his wrist and opens the door.
It’s a simple simulation room. With one exception.
Terry stands on the far side of the room, glaring at me. Forest was talking about Terry reading me. It’s now clear.
“I’m not sure if you’ve met before,” Forrest says as he closes the door behind him.
Yes, he is!
“But this is Terry. He’s going to assist you with your Telepathy test.”
I ease into the seat across from Terry.
Terry has a somewhat smug smirk on his face, but only when Forrest isn’t watching. “I’ve seen him around,” Terry says. “But I don’t think we’ve actually had the pleasure of meeting.”
So, that’s how we are playing this game. “No. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”
“Good then,” Forrest says as he checks his tablet. “This will all be fresh.” Does he know about what happened in the Survival Test, and Terry’s threat? “I’ll be on the other side of the wall to make sure there aren’t any disruptive thoughts.”
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