Oppression

by Jessica Therrien

  “For classes.”

  “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.” People rushed past us, irritated that we were standing in their way.

  “Trust me. I wasn’t either,” he empathized, “but my dad said it was necessary. These are your people, Elyse. It’s time for you to be a part of this.”

  It didn’t take much to convince me. Things were different, these were my people, and I didn’t have to worry about hiding who I was or being exposed. We were all in the same boat.

  “All right,” I said with an eager smile.

  We walked toward the front desk dodging the streams of oncoming people and took our place in line with the rest of the casually dressed citizens.

  “Hello, miss, how can I help you?” the young secretary asked the old woman at the front of the line. Her hair was a natural red, tied back in a bun that reminded me of the 1930s. Her features, gentle and pink, reacted calmly to the aggressive tone of the woman she was helping.

  “I filed for an extension on my community residence expiration a week ago.” The old lady’s nasally voice was upset and worried. “It expires today and I haven’t heard back.”

  “All right, ma’am. If you go through that door on the right you can talk to someone in Processing.”

  “So I waited in this line for nothing?” the woman spat.

  “I’ll let them know you’re on your way,” the receptionist said, unfazed. As the woman stomped away, I watched her rickety body wobble with fury. I realized that she must be about 400 years old. I thought a bit about what that woman had been through. That many years of life was bound to make someone a little jaded.

  “How can I help you, sir?” Her voice was closer now as we moved through the line.

  “Yes. I got my notification for identification renewal. I’m just checking in,” said the man in front of us. He looked around forty, which would make him 200 years old or so. His hair was salt and pepper black, and everything about him seemed so normal. That’s when I noticed that everyone here was a little too normal. Where were all the crazy powers people were supposed to have? It was all just too boring for a community of mythological Descendants.

  “Why isn’t anyone using any powers?” I asked William.

  “Oh, they are forbidden on this floor. Just a precaution.”

  “What about the other floors, why not take precaution there?”

  “Well you need an ID card to access the elevators, so it’s pretty safe.”

  Suddenly there was nobody in front of us, and we were next.

  “Hi,” I blurted out, but beyond that I wasn’t sure what registration entailed so I let William continue.

  “We’re here to get her registered. She’s new to the community,” he explained.

  “Name?” I noticed she asked him and not me.

  “Elyse Adler,” I made a point to answer.

  As she typed my name in, I half expected the computer to reject the entry, to shoot off bells and whistles declaring me an imposter. Instead she responded with: “Here we go . . . It looks like most of the information has already been entered. Let me just print out her ID card,” she talked to me through William of course. I understood her desire to address him—it was the perfect excuse to admire his jaw-dropping good looks—but I still resented it.

  “Really?” I asked confused. “I don’t remember filling anything out. How can you be sure that is my file?”

  She raised her eyebrows at my apparently ridiculous question.

  “The picture,” she said, turning her screen to show me my profile. Sure enough my most recent driver’s license photo stared back at me from her computer monitor.

  “We’d also like to enroll her in school,” William added.

  “Certainly,” she fluttered.

  I rolled my eyes, which made him laugh a little under his breath. He was polite, but not flirtatious as he wrapped up the transaction.

  “Does that ever get old?” I asked, a little peeved as we walked to the internal elevator.

  “What?” he asked obviously playing dumb.

  “Oh come on. Having women drool over you like that.”

  He pretended to think about it for a second. “Nope, never,” he joked. “Why, are you jealous?”

  It only took a minute before I decided. “Maybe,” I said.

  He laughed, clearly thinking I was absurd. “You are.”

  He handed me my new ID, no more complex than a simple library card, and grabbed my free hand as we reached the elevators. Although my attention was strongly aware of the warm skin of William’s palm, I watched as each person scanned their card upon entering and did the same. I wondered briefly what would happen if you entered without a card, but let the thought drift away as William gave me an excited look. We rode the lift to the top floor as instructed, stopping every few floors to let out small groups of well-dressed people.

  When we finally reached the very last floor, I didn’t know what to expect, and as the doors opened up I stood dumbfounded at the unworldly display of activity. We were let off in the middle of the passing hall, and students were making their way to and from class. None of them seemed to notice our arrival. They simply kept on as they would normally, or as was normal for them. But they were no ordinary group of kids. There were plenty of students who, like us, had no outwardly visible ability and walked to class just as we were, but interspersed between the mobs, there were those who stood out amongst the crowd. The closest passerby, a boy who was seemingly feeble and small, carried a girl on each shoulder like it was nothing.

  “Show off,” William teased him.

  “You’re just jealous,” the boy joked back.

  A blurred image of a girl whipped past us at a speed that was incomprehensible, and like a flash of light she was gone. The boy walking next to me grew two feet in less than a second, apparently looking for a friend down the hall, before shrinking back to his regular size. A few people ahead of us, I could see a girl surrounded by what seemed to be a force field that kept people at a distance.

  Adding to the whole effect was the stream of airborne objects that ran just above the teeming traffic of the hallway, like a moving river of debris. Desk chairs, scattered paper, books, computer parts, backpacks, a cell phone, were all floating above our heads with a number of other items on their way somewhere.

  “How is this happening?” I asked, pointing above my head.

  “Mr. Gransky.” William smiled at the objects above us. “He is the janitor here. Makes it easier to keep an entire building cleaned and organized when you can move things with your mind. He does favors for people too, interdepartmental mail and things. He’s always moving random stuff around.”

  “Quite a multi-tasker,” I added with amazement as the items continued to soar above us.

  Aside from the mind-blowing stunts that were passing before my unbelieving eyes, there was nothing elaborate about the place—just the typical features of any school building. White linoleum floors colored with gray flecks and scuff marks reflected the false fluorescent light. Doors with windows lined the single hall that seemed to continue around the corner of each end in a square.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone stepped out in front of us, nearly causing me to trip over my own feet.

  “Wow,” William said, catching me by the arm. “What’s with the surprise attack, Professor?”

  “Sorry,” the old man said with a high, amused voice. “The girl must come with me.”

  Before I knew it, the professor had me by the wrist, pulling me in the opposite direction of the crowd and away from William. I didn’t know what to do. Who was this man, and where was he taking me?

  “William?” I called out at him with concern.

  “Wait, Iosif,” he yelled with a laugh. The professor stopped, giving William the chance to catch up. “We have Origins and History right now. Can’t you wait to talk to her?”

  “No. Dear, I really must speak with you now. Is that all right?”

  To my surprise, he was addres
sing me not William.

  “Um, I guess so,” I said full of uncertainty. My eyes looked to William for an escape, but he was simply amused by the old man’s insistence.

  “Fine, take her,” William said with a mischievous look in his eyes, “but you owe me one.”

  My jaw dropped. He was supposed to be getting me out of this, not bargaining a deal.

  “Okay, all right,” Iosif agreed eagerly. “A free hall pass, but that’s it.”

  With a nod, we were off again, and William simply waved and smiled, finding amusement in my expression.

  “William!” I shrieked. What was he doing, trading me for a hall pass?

  “You’ll be fine,” he yelled back. “The old man won’t bite. Not unless you struggle.”

  William’s grin never faded, and I was sure it lasted long after I lost him in the crowd. I promised myself I would get him back for enjoying the sight of me getting dragged off by such a loon, but what could he have done really? Professor Iosif, however odd, clearly had authority over him. Still, as far as I was concerned, William owed me one.

  7.

  THE PROFESSOR WAS extremely old. His white hair had thinned on top, and the rest of it stood out frizzled and wild from the sides of his head like a bald Albert Einstein. He had full circle wire rimmed glasses and a crooked pointy nose to hold them up. His body was hunched over as we trudged down the still busy hallway, making him slightly shorter than me. As we reached his office, he closed the door and smiled widely, unafraid to bare his strangely jumbled mess of teeth. Although he seemed about as crazy as he looked, his overall personality was kind and welcoming.

  “I’m so glad you’ve finally come. I was starting to worry.” He seemed to find his own words funny and chuckled to himself.

  “Come to The Institute?” I asked, not knowing he’d been expecting me.

  “Well, yes.”

  “I didn’t even know this place existed until this morning,” I answered honestly.

  “That’s understandable,” he said as he fumbled around looking for something. His office was dark. What little light did manage to find its way in seeped through spaces between the high stacks of books piled up against the window. There was a kitchenette and some cupboards to the right and two shelves on the left that housed a collection of items so old one might expect to find them in a museum. I imagined the antiques were actually things he had owned over the past 400 years or so he’d lived. His desk was completely covered in newspapers, open mail and ungraded papers, and I wondered from the look of the place if he considered this a second residence.

  “Would you like some tea?” he asked, finally finding what he was searching for.

  Not wanting to be rude, I accepted and let my eyes wander some more as he prepared it.

  “Why aren’t you asking questions?” He set the tea in front of me and sat behind his desk. “I know you have many.”

  “Oh,” I answered. I did have questions, lots of questions. I just wasn’t used to someone being willing to answer them.

  “Let’s start with your ability,” he pushed past my lack of response. His eyebrows raised in curiosity. “You are familiar with the process.”

  I returned his calculating stare with an unnerving look.

  “Well, yes and no. I know my blood can heal, but how does it work exactly?” I realized he might know more than I thought. “Can I heal anybody?”

  “Yes, essentially, and anybody can heal you. You’re our cure as much as we are yours. However, there are some specifics you don’t seem to be aware of. Only the blood from your right side heals.”

  “My left side doesn’t heal?” I’d always been too scared to experiment with it. Aside from the one time with Anna, William had been the only other person I’d healed.

  “Your left side contains a very unique poison. A small amount may only paralyze a victim, but in larger doses, it is lethal.”

  Poison? The thought made my insides writhe with guilt, and I felt sick. What if Kara’s blade had hit me in the left leg? I would have poisoned William.

  “I had no idea,” I said in disbelief. I thought briefly of the day Anna and I had exchanged blood, and how lucky we had been that she had grabbed my healing hand and not the poisonous one. “I’m assuming the poison has the same effect on . . . humans?” It felt strange to think of Anna as human, as if I was setting myself apart from her. Were we really that different?

  His face became uncomfortable. “We aren’t allowed to use abilities on humans, Elyse, but yes. Your blood would heal them or hurt them all the same.”

  It took me a while to register the first part of what he had said. “Why wouldn’t I be allowed to heal a human?” I asked, worried about the fact that I already had.

  “It’s the law. A very rigid law.”

  I decided to keep that secret to myself, just in case.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t raised in a community. My parents sort of kept all of this from me. They didn’t tell me there were others.”

  “They did what they had to, for the good of our world, for your own good.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked frustrated. “William said something about everyone waiting for the last healer. How did he know me? How do any of you know me?”

  “He’s eager,” Iosif answered with a secret smile, “and he’s right. We have been waiting for you, and it’s very important that you don’t let anyone know who you are. No one else has figured it out yet.”

  I laughed. “Okay, that will be pretty easy since I don’t even know who I am.”

  “Well it’s time you know. I brought you here for that very reason,” he said, settling into a more serious posture, “to tell you the truth about us and about yourself. Over the centuries, our kind has been oppressed. The powers that be have grown accustomed to the amount of control they keep.” He spoke with intense eyes and cautious ears. “Before you were born, my wife had a vision of one who would bring an end to it, whose destiny was so deeply intertwined in the fate of the future, that she must be protected. That night, we sought out the parents who would bring this unborn child into the world and told them that they must live apart from the communities and keep their child in the dark about who she truly was. That child is you, and now the time has come.”

  “I don’t understand. The time has come for what?”

  “For you to fulfill the prophecy, lead the war, save us from the enemy,” he said, his arms gesturing with enthusiasm.

  A burst of laughter came rolling out of me. It was the only reaction I could process. “You can’t be serious.”

  Even through my laughter, his expression didn’t falter. “Indeed I am.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” I said frankly, “but that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  There was not a million to one chance that I was this prophecy savior. I knew that for sure. There was no way someone as young and emotionally unstable as myself could make such an impact.

  “You do not have to accept the prophecy for it to be true.”

  “You can’t possibly believe that I’m going to change your world.”

  “It is inevitable.”

  “Maybe for someone else,” I disagreed. “I don’t know anything about . . . anything. I don’t know your world. You have the wrong girl, Professor.”

  “I assure you, no.”

  I stared into his crazy blue eyes that seemed to have faded with age. They were honest, believing, sincere, and that scared me. “I wouldn’t even know what to do. Besides, I’ve got nothing against . . . whoever it is you feel is your enemy.”

  “The Council,” he answered, “and you will.”

  How could I take this crazy looking man so seriously? He had obviously lost his sense of reality years ago. “Look, I’ve got to get to class,” I said, looking for a way out. I stood and headed for the door without being properly excused. “It was really . . . nice talking to you though.” What else could I say?

  “Remember what I told you,” he c
ontinued, talking to me through his open door as I slunk away. “Your destiny will find you. Oh, and Origins is in room 22A.”

  I didn’t look back as I charged down the empty hall, and when I found the right door, I let my shoulders relax a little, trying to forget the conversation I’d just endured.

  I walked into the classroom over thirty minutes late, right in the middle of a lecture.

  “. . . we have to be responsible. The choices we make affect more than just ourselves.” Despite my tardiness, the professor gave me a look of pleasant surprise. The strange attention made me squirm, and I avoided looking directly at him out of embarrassment. Luckily William was sitting toward the back next to an empty seat, and I dove into it, desperate to avoid curious eyes.

  Dr. Nickel was written on the blackboard in elegant cursive. He was a tall, handsome man with clean-cut gray hair and a strong build for his age. His charismatic smile reached the back of the room, clearly expressing his love for teaching, and I recognized him immediately. I knew I’d seen him before, but couldn’t think where.

  “We have a new student,” the professor announced, causing the entire class to zero in on me.

  I raised my hand, acknowledging the group, but couldn’t find my words.

  “I know we’re all familiar with our ancestry, but I would like to run through a quick overview for Elyse, just to bring her up to speed with the class.” Apparently he knew me as well.

  The students redirected their attention to Dr. Nickel, and I slumped lower in my chair.

  “What is your first impression of the word Myth? Anybody? The first word that comes to mind?”

  “Legend.”

  “Imaginary.”

  “A story.”

  “Yes, a story,” Dr. Nickel said through grinning lips. “The Greek word from which we derive the word mythology actually means ‘story-telling,’ but in truth, mythology is often described as being thought to be true by a particular culture. In the case of Greek mythology, it was true, very true, to the humans who were aware of the existence of our ancestors. The Greek mythology of today arose from a particular point in time when our ancestors were less concerned about the consequences of integrating with human society. Most of what was known to be true at the time has been embellished beyond fact, but there are still parts of it that mark significant events in our history. As we all know, the Trojan War, which has now become more of an interesting fable, was the reason for our decision to become more reclusive. The battle was between us and the humans, not just humans themselves. So, if our people were fully integrated with human society, and for many years lived in peace, what changed? In essence, what caused the war that divided us? If we were to integrate now, what sort of problems would we face? Would they be the same?”