“Yeah, all right,” she says, going in.
“Stay away from me---”
“Justh sthm—jucie m’ boy,” the doctor slurs.
“Okay, James, put the scalpel down---”
“No, not until that lunatic gets away from me,” Thorn says, gesturing at the doctor with the scalpel.
“Reilley will get him----what happened to his face?” Hawking asks, noticing the good doctor is lipless.
“Oh, he was the mutilation I told you about, come on doctor,” I say, pinning him against the wall.
“Yeah, he jabbed me the other day and half the IA guys have had it from him so we’re not too sorry about that,” Harris says, glaring at him, as he sits safely on a stool away from the chaos.
“Hey, James, they told me you’ve been feeling bad,” Hawking says, artfully pulling the scalpel from him as he basically collapses into her arms sobbing.
“They won’t listen----we’ll all be killed, we’ll all die they won’t listen to me,” he sobs bitterly.
“Shh, shh, is that what’s upsetting you?” she asks, pulling away so he’ll look at her.
“Yes, yes, I’ve tried to warn them---” he says.
“Okay, then you know we’re all gonna die, right?” she asks.
“Yes,” he says, nodding.
“Okay, so let them. you’ve tried to warn them, now let them die, okay?” she asks.
“Okay,” he says, nodding, “I can do that.”
“Okay, yeah, we’re just going to let them all burn in hell,” she says, “Their choice, you tried to warn ‘em.”
“Okay, thanks, you’re right,” he says.
“Go and get your SBUs on, we’ll get something to eat,” she says, patting him on the back as he goes to the door to the bathroom.
Harris and I are staring at her.
“That is seriously all you had to say?” Harris asks.
“Yeah,” she says.
“I give up,” Harris says, leaving.
“This is going to be hard,” Tim mutters.
“Shh, we’ll be fine,” I say.
“I just don’t understand---” Logan begins, then breaks off.
“How is it not easy for you to complete that sentence?”
“Titus you promised to be nice!” I hiss.
“Not all day just for breakfast!”
“Titus, we’re your friends, we don’t use however cunning and well thought out verbal jabs on our friends,” I remind him.
“That’s a rule as well?” he sighs.
“Why is he listening to you?” Leavitt asks, suspiciously.
“Wilde says until she gets back or until we both die which ever comes later, I’m Card’s handler,” I explain.
“Which means if she says so I have to spend the night in the brig and I don’t want to anymore we’re going to have new quieter accommodations and I can read my tablet,” Titus pouts. He knows full well I’ll tell on him and he still wants to kiss me I see it in his eyes the sad thing is that only makes me love him more. That and how stupidly childishly thrilled he is by that worn out old tablet Thorn made sure he got. I’m almost positive he’s wearing it under his SBUs right now so that no one steals it and what makes it so cute is nobody on this planet but him actually wants the thing because all you can do is read books on it it’s disabled for everything else and literally everybody else in Space forces has a better one. And he’s so smart and he totally doesn’t realize all that and if it weren’t so sad it would be funny.
“So, to be clear, you admit you’ve been wanting to?” Liesel asks.
“Oh, yeah,” Titus says, nodding, then he turns to me, “I am so bored, please can’t I at least antagonize Leavitt? I’ll probably never see him again and he’s just standing there existing breathing---”
“I can hear you,” Leavitt says, staring at him looking mildly annoyed but too sleep deprived to be properly annoyed.
“No, now why are you bored? You’ve got to epically fail all of these tests were about to take don’t you want to plan that?” I ask, helpfully.
“No I----how did you know I wanted to fail epically?”
“You try to do everything epically it’s endearing---”
“Exhausting,” Liesel supplies.
“Painful,” Leavitt says.
“Confusing,” Logan says.
“I didn’t honestly know you did that,” Tim says.
“But everyone but Tim knows you do that so don’t want to think about doing that with the tests?” I suggest.
“No, I did that last night it honestly wasn’t that hard anyway my nimrod brothers and I used to do it all the time at school so it was really just modifying that---”
“Anybody else wonder if his brothers are actually stupid, or if they’re just normal people because compared to him normal people are stupid?” Liesel asks.
“Yes, I’ve wondered that,” Logan says.
“Oh, no they’re really below bar, like I used to jape them so badly it wasn’t funny---okay, it was funny, but for instance I told one of them, their name isn’t important, that the other had been stealing his cash from where he’d hidden it and I acted like I didn’t know where it was so he goes to check like a simpleton and needless to say now I know where it is I take it and----”
“Wait stop—does this story involve bodily injury to one or both of them?” I ask.
“Three of them, actually, and to me when my mum found out because by then she really just had decided to blame me for everything because apparently, the house NEVER started on fire spontaneously before I learned how to talk,” Titus says, sounding hurt.
“How many times did the house start---” Logan begins.
“Do not, answer that, before we hear about whatever horrible cruel and life threatening but possibly deserved prank you pulled on your siblings, please explain why somebody as smart as you would fail tests at school?” I ask, stopping Titus before he answers.
“We would do it randomly because my oldest brother would do really well so the government came and examined him except he convinced them he’d been cheating so they left but if he hadn’t they were going to lock him up and examine him,” Titus explains.
“Why would they do that? And it’s not like it’s some secret now everyone knows you got like---nothing wrong on all the tests to get in,” I say.
“That’s because if you’re too young and too clever they tend to think you’re a mutant and our mother wanted to preserve us---”
“Okay maybe his family is stupid if this woman actively tried to keep all these kids under the same roof,” Leavitt says.
“See?” Titus points at Leavitt.
“I’m confused,” Logan says.
“Okay---okay I’m done, go on with the story where your house burned down,” I sigh, shaking my head. at least he’s off antagonizing people.
“It didn’t burn down, that’s the thing, it just looked like it was so when the fire people came---”
“Shouldn’t they have gone in by now?” Wilde asks, walking into the control room where I’m monitoring the cadets. Now that Thorn is stable the commissioned staff is more than happy to observe from a distance while I do the actual cadet-herding.
“Yeah, I’m watching them though, look,” I say, pointing at the screen, “They’re laughing and talking. Card’s laughing as well.”
“They all made friends, finally,” she says, leaning against the table next to me, “I didn’t think he’d fit in with them ever.”
“Not with putting guidon’s on roofs---I’d really like to know how he did that---and breaking into IDMT and all that nonsense,” I say, shaking my head, “Do you think it reprogrammed itself to function like a human?”
“No,” she laughs, “I think they got to understand him, that he isn’t half bad if you get past the him being him part.”
“That’s sort of encouraging, about the human race that is. They can still accept somebody like him,” I point out.
“Yeah, poor devil. He’s a rotten thing no
mistake, but I feel like he’d be less rotten if he thought there were somebody out there that cared about him,” she says.
“You don’t think there is?” I ask.
“No, I don’t. and now that there might be I don’t think he even knows how to accept that somebody could,” she says.
“That’s sad, probably true, though,” I say, shrugging, “Have they told you anything new about Ebbel?”
“No, still’ve got no idea who or why. It’s bizarre,” she says, “You and I and all the cadets are accounted for, it must be somebody else on base who wandered into the complex. My money’s on Dr. Truth Juice.”
“Oh, really? That would make sense,” I say, nodding, “Certainly is most logical. You know as much grief as we give Thorn, it’s strange, I mean two cadets murdered, and two other institutionalized? Not normal, the most we’ve had is one death in a class, and those’ve been straight up accidents.”
“Don’t encourage it, Hawking’s just got him off the idea---but yes, things are odd around here,” she says.
“Let’s just hope things can be normal for now on,” I say.
She’s right. Just let them die. What does it matter? It doesn’t. I know all die, okay, fine, done, I’ll die. Big deal I was going to anyway. No I’ve tried to help them. but they won’t be saved. So oh well. I certainly did my best. Nobody can say I didn’t. I tried to help them. but they won’t be helped. So we will all die.
These tests are so boring. I know the answers, why wouldn’t I? It’s simple, stupid. I shouldn’t have to do this they know I’m clever they know I can do any job I should get my own volition. But they want to do it this way. So fine, we’ll do it this way.
I glance over at Titus he’s bubbling in answers, into----a dirty acrostic. Of course he is. I wonder how he even got in Space Forces when he’s incapable of doing what he’s told.
I look down at my paper and sigh. I can’t think straight. No wonder, my baby sister is dead, I’ve woken up next to dead bodies and found people stuffed in washing machines and nearly eaten people. How do they expect me to concentrate on this. I’ll probably fail. Good. Maybe then they’ll send me home. Home to what? Just me and my mum now, to stare at each other and think about Ian and Ginny. God I am tired. And there are no severed heads here. And it is actually quiet. I lie my head down on the desk, realizing as I fall asleep that this will totally disqualify me.
Tom and I have both done dozens of these practice things. They’re stupid. I don’t like tests. I’m ready for this bloody training to be over with. Titus is over there rubbing his head and rocking and probably making an acrostic out of the answers. Leavitt looks like he fell asleep. King looks like the only one actually concentrating. He would be he’s normal. He says it’s nice. I look back down at the tablet in front of me and think that that will be nice someday.
Done with my profane acrostic I’m bored again.
I ignore everyone else in the room and focus. This is my arena, there is, running and jumping and climbing on thing a deep breath, relax, and focus.
Mine is tests. And that’s why I’m here that’s why they picked me. so I just need to take a breath, relax, and do this.
Chapter 11
“W
here are they?” Thorn asks, coming into our break room. Wilde and I are pouring over tests, Hawking is drinking a cup of tea and being amused by our sarcastic remarks.
“Taking their flight simulator tests now,” Wilde says, glancing up at him quickly. I do as well, he looks much more himself. He’s shaved and his hair is damp as though he’s showered. His eyes are a bit clearer I think as well.
“Good,” Thorn says, “Did the commissioned staff get a look at the results?”
“Yes, and they printed them for us to keep to remember this wonderful experience by,” I say, handing him a stack.
“Why?” Thorn asks, “Or was this terribly unusual as well?”
“Most of it was typical, except one failed,” Wilde says.
“Let me guess---Card?” Thorn asks.
“Yes, got every single question wrong, commissioned staff were not pleased, they know for a fact he knows the material, his scores on the entrance exams were unprecedented,” I say.
“He probably knows they know,” Thorne says.
“I’m sure he does,” Wilde says, “Ones like him, too clever for their own good.”
“Let me guess, he’s passing the flight test?” Thorn asks.
“Flying colors last time I checked,” I say, nodding, wondering if it’s a good idea to talk so much about Card to him. he seems all right, though, and Wilde sort of nods at me to act normal despite his break down earlier.
“When he was in basic, he was going on about how he would be a pilot. I heard him telling the others. Of course, since he was enlisted, we were all just assuming he meant he’d steal one and stage a revolution,” Thorn shrugs.
“Well, so long as he’s happy, fewer guidons will be on roofs,” Wilde says.
“Yes, did anybody figure out how he was doing that?” Thorne asks.
“No,” we both say.
“Ah well, commissioned staff get to have fun with all of them from here on out, all you guys have to do is help them march places,” Hawking reminds.
“Yes, that will be nice,” I say.
“How did that boy, Leavitt do?” Thorn asks, looking at the tests Wilde and I sorting on the screen on the table.
“He got most all of the questions right up till he fell asleep,” Wilde says, “Which is like really really good getting that many right but he fell asleep part way through so he barely passed.”
“Aw, poor thing,” Thorn says.
“How could you sleep during a test like that?” Hawking asks.
“You really haven’t told her everything that’s gone on around here,” Thorn observes.
“A lot has happened!” Wilde defends herself.
“This kid woke up next to a severed head,” I explain to Hawking.
“Okay, good reason he might have trouble sleeping,” she winces, “And they said a cadet was doing the murders?”
“Yes, he’s been captured now, tried to kill Card and himself,” Thorn explains, “Card recovered quite quickly, however, seems he found it thrilling.”
“He’s not finding the combat test thrilling,” Wilde says, looking at her screen.
“What?” Thorne asks, coming over.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Requirements for pilot is that they don’t go above a certain heart rate when presented with a variety of disturbing images, as well as during the entire flight test,” Wilde explains, mostly for me, “These are the cadet’s heart rates, they’ve been in for an hour and now they’re being presented with graphic images of either family members or fellow cadets in various states of death and decay.”
“I hated those, you can have an elevated heart rate, just not such that you lose all gross motor skills,” Hawking says, coming over as well, “A resting heart rate is 70-100bpm, about, and elevated is over 100bpm. The cut off for pilots is 130 bpm. “
“Poor King, he’s at 220 bpm,” Wilde says, wincing. That would so be me. “He’s practically having a seizure.”
“Where’s Card? Oh, 74bpm, that fits, classic sociopath,” Thorne says.
“Yeah, it hasn’t changed since he went to bed last night and put on the monitor,” Wilde says, “See Tom’s? Hers has, it was at 75 bpm all night, 80bpm during the day, 95 now, so it’s elevated but hardly, still obviously sociopathic.”
“Leavitt’s at 110, so he’s still a pilot, just also a normal person,” Hawking says. I glance as Liesel’s, 150bpm, good. she’s not going to be a pilot that’s for the best.
“I don’t get it, though, why does that make Card and Tom sociopaths? Leavitt still has a lower heart rate than King,” I ask, “What’s the difference there?”
“Disassociation, you see, emotions and fear responses are centered in the amygdala. It tells us that we are like other people, giving us empathy. F
or individuals with a typically developed amygdala you see your buddy get his head blown off, your bpm rises, as your amygdala triggers cortisol to be released in the brain, that’s the stress response, putting you in flight or fight or mode, and adrenaline is triggered, you get the extra energy you need to run and fight and get the hell out of whatever situation you’re in. But as the stressing situation continues something else interesting happens in the upper regions of the brain, and that is disassociation. See Tom and Leavitt’s rates?” Hawking explains, leaning over next to me and pointing to the monitor.
“When the pictures started, Leavitt jumped from 85 bpm, to 150, then within 2 seconds, back to 110 bpm. Same with Stowe, she went from 90 bpm, to 190 bpm, back down to 150 bpm after 30 seconds. See, elevated heart rate, cortisol, all that isn’t good for the brain long term, so our brains have a defense mechanism, and that’s disassociation, we don’t believe we are ourselves, that’s why in stress situations people describe an ‘out of body’ experience. Your brain is basically telling you that what is happening isn’t actually happening to you, it’s happening to sort of you or brave you or whatever you want to call it. so, when you are removed from the stressful situation, your brain goes back to functioning like normal. That’s all good and it’s healthy, what we are looking for in pilots is people who can disassociate quickly enough to get the job done, because the longer the cortisol and bpm are elevated, the longer you lose fine motor skills and detailed thought that will get you and your wingman out of danger.”
“But why the difference between Stowe and Leavitt?” I ask, “He lowered almost immediately, she took much longer.”
“Prior disassociation, he’s been exposed to similar trauma before, he already had a ‘brave Leavitt’ persona in place, his brain put him there, he’s ready to rock and roll. Stowe hadn’t, her brain had to convince her she’s all right,” Hawking explains.
“So, what makes Card and Tom different, then? I’m still confused,” I ask.
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