by Sophie Davis
The door at the back of the classroom opened and Leslie Abbot stepped inside, followed by an older boy Cressa had never seen. The newcomer was dressed in black pants and a matching high-collared black jacket. His attire was a sure sign that he wasn’t a cadet, but either an instructor or possibly even an Institute administrator.
Tall and lean, with a crooked smile and fine features, the older guy oozed intelligence like some people oozed charisma. Though he wasn’t conventionally handsome, something about him made him attractive in Cressa’s eyes.
Power, Cressa decided. The power emanating from him was so potent; it made Cressa’s toes tingle and a deep ache develop in her chest. Suddenly, she felt an intense urge to be close to him.
How odd? Cressa thought. She’d never experienced such a strong desire in her entire life.
“Good morning, Twos,” Leslie Abbot said, her tone flat and features expressionless as ever. “Allow me to introduce Sir Tate. For those of you who do not know, Sir Tate is on the board of the Institute, and is one of the Directors of the Privileged. He is responsible for acquiring sources, in addition to selecting worthy candidates for admission.”
Sir Tate waved, almost shyly, to the girls. He cleared his throat and, after a couple false starts, greeted them. “I-I know many of you from your applications,” he began. “It gives me great pleasure to see that you’ve all advanced in your studies.”
“Sir Tate will be observing the testing along with all of you,” Leslie added. There was a warning note in her voice, indicating they were all to be on their best behavior.
“Yes, well, please pretend as though I am not here,” Sir Tate said. “The Dame is very busy, but likes to be up-to-date on her pupils’ accomplishments. I am merely here as her eyes and ears today, so that I may report back to her on how well you are all doing. She sends along her wishes that she could pay you a visit in person, but the Dame’s duties are vast and exceptionally time-consuming.”
Gracia clapped her hands together in a rare display of genuine excitement. “How exciting to have you here! I know I speak for all of my charges and the other Sevens—I’m a Seven, not a Two—when I say we are thrilled to make your acquaintance,” she gushed. Somehow, Gracia managed to sound both impossibly formal, and like a schoolgirl speaking to her crush for the first time.
Sir Tate turned to where Gracia stood in the corner of the room with his crooked smile locked in place. He froze the instant his gaze landed on her. Instinctively, he took a step backward, until he was pressed against the door behind him. Disbelief and something akin to alarm flashed in his hazel eyes.
“Y-y-you look…I mean, I knew you would be…but the resemblance…” Sir Tate trailed off. Casting his gaze at the floor, he rubbed a spot on the back of his neck nervously, exposing several looping black lines that looked to be part of a tattoo.
“This is Gracia Beaumont, captain of the Phase Two girls,” Leslie Abbot interjected quickly, gesturing to the unsettled 7P.
An odd scent suddenly filled the room. It was both sweet and tangy, like an orange or sugared lemon. The aroma intensified, becoming an assault on the senses. Wrinkling her nose, Cressa discreetly moved her hand to cover her nostrils from the pungent odor. When she glanced at her fellow Twos, no one else was reacting to the scent, almost as if they didn’t smell it at all.
What the hell? Cressa thought, wondering if she was losing it. She prayed she wasn’t having a bad reaction to the previous night’s injection.
Cressa watched as Sir Tate composed himself, fascinated by the way his expression instantly evened. The effect was like someone had taken a steamer to his face, rapidly smoothing the frown and worry lines.
“Right, of course you are,” Sir Tate said hastily, his crooked smile firmly back in place. “Your transformation is coming along nicely. I understand you are scheduled for full facial reorg and body mod, I look forward to seeing the final results.”
“Ugh, that’s it then,” Lyla Towers, who was sitting on Cressa’s left, whispered to her. “Guess she really has been chosen.”
“Yes, Sir. The Dame says I am the best candidate at the Institute,” Gracia responded proudly. “I am to have the procedures as soon as Doctor Masterson’s schedule allows.”
Sir Tate cleared his throat. “Well, yes, I can see that you are, structurally speaking, the best choice.”
Lyla and several other girls snickered loudly at the backhanded compliment.
Turning the color of letters on an EXIT sign, Gracia giggled uneasily. “The Dame has provided me with study materials, so that I may learn her speech patterns and mannerisms. I am taking this duty very seriously.”
“If it is alright with you, I will inform them we are ready for the first examinee?” Leslie asked pointedly. She glanced quickly back and forth between Sir Tate and Gracia, and the 2P girls, who were all engrossed in their conversation. Clearly, she disapproved of the discussion.
“Please do,” Sir Tate replied quickly, remembering himself. With one last lingering look at Gracia, he walked to the back of the classroom and sat in a vacant chair.
“He’s an odd one,” Lyla mumbled, leaning towards Cressa.
After the encounter in the bathroom the previous night, Cressa was still unsure how she felt about the twins. She thought she liked them, but couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that their gossipy ways were a ploy to get Cressa to say something inflammatory, so they could tattle on her to a superior.
“I think he’s just shy,” Cressa whispered back.
The lights in the room dimmed, until Daphne and the others sitting across the aisle were nothing more than shadows.
The wall in front of them was actually a two-way mirror, which grew brighter as the room darkened. The adjacent room matched the classroom in width, but was not nearly as deep. A lone figure stood in the center of the space. His arms hung by his sides, hands balled into fists, fingers flexing and then curling back into his palms over and over again. Beside him was a single metal bench, approximately three feet long.
The boy looked to be around Cressa’s age, maybe a year or two younger, though she couldn’t be certain. The ends of his ginger hair barely brushed the collar of his green smock-style shirt. His pants, the same shade of green, were cinched tightly below his narrow hips and rolled at the bottom to reveal pale, bare feet. Eyes the color of clouds just before a thunderstorm stared straight ahead, unblinking.
“This is Damon Bizon,” Leslie Abbot explained from the back of the room. “He was a student of the Institute, but failed to advance past Phase Three. As a result, he was released from the Privileged program. However, Mr. Bizon is still very useful to us, as you are about to witness.”
In the center aisle, a spotlight appeared. A moment later, the holographic image of a girl materialized.
The sight was so unexpected that Cressa gasped audibly. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone in her surprise. Across the room, Daphne squealed and clapped her hands together, as if the girl’s sudden appearance was a magician’s trick.
“This is Suzu Mitsu,” Leslie told the class. “She is an 8P. Today is her first attempt at using mind manipulation—the final power she must master in order to become Privileged. Her task is simple; she must guide Damon Bizon through a number of exercises. In order to successfully pass her exam, Cadet Mitsu must reach inside Damon’s mind, take control, and compel him to perform the given tasks.”
“And if she fails…” Lyla made a sort of strangled choking sound and drew her thumbnail across her throat. “Off with her head.” In the light emanating from the two-way mirror, Lyla’s skin appeared silver and ghostly, making the gesture all the more ominous.
Lyla and her twin giggled loudly, drawing a disapproving glare from Gracia.
Cressa shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Only yesterday, she’d been the one in the examination room, her future hinging perilously on the ability to perform a task much simpler than the one Suzu Mitsu was attempting. Had a classroom of cadets been watching? Had her audienc
e been as flippant as Lyla Towers? She hoped not.
Then, another thought, even more horrible than the first, struck Cressa hard.
If I’d failed the Phase One exam, I would have shared Damon’s fate.
Leslie had just confirmed the rumors Cressa had heard from a few 1Ps: Unworthy cadets weren’t sent home, they were used as test subjects. Cressa had been sure that it was just an exaggeration, an ominous tale that circulated through the new cadets like an urban legend. Her heart pounded as Cressa filled with anxiety, until she was sure that the slamming beats were audible to everyone in the room.
This demonstration wasn’t a treat. It was a cautionary tale, meant to impart the ultimate price of failure.
It was as though the Dame had been reading her traitorous thoughts of regret and uncertainty, and had orchestrated this lesson just to remind Cressa that the only option was to move forward.
Full of compassion for poor Damon Bizon, Cressa sent waves of encouragement his way. She knew it was silly, since it wasn’t like Damon could feel the vibes. Still, if by some chance he was picking up on their emotions, Cressa wanted him to know that he had an ally in the crowd. After all, it could have just as easily been her in that room. Cressa did still have seven exams ahead of her, so there was still a very real chance that she would end up in Damon’s shoes. Metaphorically, of course, since the kid was barefoot.
“You may begin, Suzu,” a voice Cressa recognized from her own advancement test boomed through unseen speakers in the walls.
Suzu Mitsu’s holographic image nodded. On the other side of the mirror, Damon Bizon showed no reaction.
“Damon Bizon cannot hear the communications between Suzu and the administrator,” Leslie explained to the younger girls. “Conversely, Suzu cannot hear the communications between the administrator and Damon Bizon. Of course, we can hear both.”
The next voice that came through the speaker was not that of the administrator. This voice had a dream-like quality to it, reminding Cressa of the way mental commands sounded when spoken inside her head. Which, she quickly realized, was exactly what she was hearing—Suzu’s thoughts were being broadcast to the classroom. That was when Cressa noticed the small flesh-colored disc over one of Suzu’s temples; it was identical to the one she’d seen on Dr. Masterson.
That device must be able to project the wearer’s thoughts, Cressa thought wonderingly. Dr. Masterson probably wore one so that she didn’t have to write down her patient observations.
“Sit on the bench, Damon,” Suzu urged. Her tone was soft and soothing, like the way a mother speaks to her frightened child.
Damon froze, stormy gaze wide with shock and fear. His head swiveled from side to side, as though seeking out the speaker.
“Sit on the bench, Damon,” Suzu repeated in the same lilting tone.
Cautiously, the boy moved towards the bench and perched on the edge.
“Cross your legs, Damon,” Suzu instructed, her voice gaining confidence.
Damon Bizon crossed his right leg over his left.
“Stand on the bench, Damon,” Suzu commanded.
Again, the boy complied with only a little hesitation. Despite herself, Cressa watched with fascination. She’d never seen someone control another person. Though the sight brought a pit of fear that settled deep in her gut, Cressa also felt an excitement.
One day I’ll be able to do that, she realized, awestruck by the thought. But should anyone be able to command another person? To take away his free will?
“Freaky deaky,” Lyla whispered, echoing Cressa’s own feelings.
“You are standing on a cliff, overlooking the ocean thirty feet below. The water is clear, and you can see to the bottom. There are tropical fish swimming just beneath the surface. Now, fall forward, Damon,” Suzu said.
There was a collective intake of breath from the room of 2Ps. Even Sir Tate leaned forward in his seat, waiting to see if Damon would be compelled into obedience.
Damon inched to the edge of the bench, his toes hanging over the lip.
“Damon Bizon has a fear of heights,” Leslie said softly. “That is why this particular scenario was chosen—to truly test Suzu’s abilities. Damon Bizon does not wish to jump, and he is only likely to do so if Suzu is able to take complete control of his mind.”
“My money says she isn’t strong enough to do it,” Shyla mumbled under her breath.
“I agree. She’s not being forceful enough,” Lyla responded.
On Cressa’s other side, Nydia, who’d been silent thus far, shushed the twins. Neither Towers sister paid her any attention.
“What do you say, Cressa?” Lyla asked. “Can she do it?”
“Damon, concentrate on my voice,” Suzu was saying. “Fall forward now.”
Cressa glanced sidelong at her roommate. Nydia’s complexion was ashen, and she was chewing the inside of her cheek. Her eyes darted rapidly between Suzu’s hologram and Damon inside the exam room.
“Cressa?” Shyla pressed.
“This is supposed to be instructional, we should be quiet and pay attention,” Cressa told her.
“Party pooper,” Lyla pouted.
“Damon,” Suzu snapped, losing her patience with the boy. “You want to fall into the ocean.”
But Damon Bizon didn’t actually want to make the leap. And Suzu Mitsu wasn’t strong enough to force him. At least, not yet.
The administrator intervened. “Cadet Mitsu, move on to the other tasks. We will come back to this one.”
Sighing, Suzu switched to a different command, this one to simply step down from the bench. From there, the 8P coached Damon through a number of acts, ranging from standing on one foot to cartwheeling around the room. The most impressive, and most terrifying, demonstration of her abilities came when Suzu commanded Damon to hold his breath until she said to stop. His face turned an unnatural shade of purple before Suzu finally allowed him to breath again.
The longer Cressa observed the spectacle, the more nauseated she became. Finally, she tore her eyes away, unable to watch any longer. Any excitement she’d felt over her future powers was completely and utterly gone. Not because she didn’t want the abilities, but because using other humans as test subjects was disgusting. The idea that soon she’d be using failed cadets like practice dummies was nearly too much to handle. She hadn’t signed up for this. It was cruel, inhumane, and sickening.
“Here she goes again,” Shyla faux-whispered. “If Damon doesn’t jump this time, Suzu’s dun-dun-dun-done.”
Cressa’s gaze unwillingly returned to the exam room. Sure enough, Damon was standing on the edge of the bench again, staring at an ocean and fish that only he could see. Cressa wrung her hands in her lap.
For a brief moment, Cressa was positive that Damon was going to jump.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, she chanted inside her own head.
It wasn’t that Cressa wanted Suzu to fail. She was far more concerned for Damon, should he face-plant on the hard floor. Which was exactly what would happen if the boy fell forward. Did no one else care about him being hurt?
Damon backpedaled on the bench, nearly tumbling over his own feet in an attempt to distance himself from the edge of the imagined cliff.
Cressa exhaled in relief.
Then, as if an invisible hand had pushed him, Damon lurched forward, arms outstretched. He let loose a blood curdling scream that would echo in Cressa’s mind for days to come. Spread-eagle, the boy flew across the room in an arc as though launched from a cannon. Several girls shouted, while others turned away.
Cressa, however, couldn’t seem to avert her gaze; never before had she seen anything like it. She’d heard tales of Talents and seen reports in the media, but she’d never witnessed a demonstration of such power in person. Even when Damon started his downward trajectory, plummeting headfirst towards the ground, Cressa didn’t look away.
In the end, she was glad she kept her eyes glued to the train wreck.
Just before Damon crashed-lan
ded, his body came to an abrupt halt mere inches from the ground. He hung there, suspended above the ground for several long moments, before being gently lowered the rest of the way down by whoever was holding his unseen strings.
Damon Bizon curled into the fetal position, breaking the spell of perverse fascination that Cressa was under. Perspiration had darkened his hair and stained the collar and armpits of his shirt. Tears poured down his cheeks and snot leaked from his nose. His lips quivered so badly that it appeared as though two thin, bloodless worms were mating above his chin.
Empathetic tears filled Cressa’s eyes as she watched Damon shake. No matter how alluring the idea of seemingly infinite power was, no matter how fascinating it was to watch the use of such incredible abilities, in the end, they’d hurt an innocent person. Cressa wondered again if that might one day be her curled up on the floor of a room while countless people watched.
All around her, the other 2Ps were clapping for Suzu and talking enthusiastically.
“Did you see that?” Lyla exclaimed. “She stopped him dead in his tracks.”
“I know!” Shyla squealed in agreement. “That was some seriously awesome telekinesis. Suzu is stronger than I gave her credit for. First she made him jump, even though he was scared enough to wet himself, then she made sure he didn’t eat concrete. That’s just…wow.” She turned to Cressa, her forehead wrinkling. “Aren’t you impressed?”
Only half listening to the twins’ blathering, Cressa shrugged noncommittally. She was too focused on Damon to give much thought or care for Suzu and her performance. What if Suzu hadn’t been able to prevent Damon from slamming into the ground? Was there someone else, a stronger, more accomplished Privileged, waiting to catch Damon if she hadn’t been able to? Did the Dame care whether Damon got hurt? Or was he expendable?
On the other side of the mirror, Damon’s lips started to move, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Cressa leaned forward, her gaze locked intently on him, trying to make out what he was saying. As she mimicked the movement, Cressa realized that Damon was uttering a single word, over and over: home.
