Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  “And how is sucking out my bones going to help?”

  “You’ve probably heard about stem cells, and all the work done in that area once the government ban lifted. Bone-marrow stem cells can be transformed into functional neural cells. Which can reproduce. Like embryonic stem cells.”

  “So? I thought your goal was to have fewer Shine cells around, not more.”

  Hope smiled enigmatically. “That’s enough discussion. Brace yourself. This will be painful.”

  “Worse than an electric cattle prod to the private parts?’

  “A thousand times worse.”

  She twisted away, as far as her restraints would allow. “Forget it then. I’m tired of being your guinea pig.”

  “So you want me to tell Dr. Coutant you’ve reneged on your agreement?” Hope peered down, the huge syringe dangling from her fingers. “Because I think we both know what the ramifications of that would be. For you. And…for others.”

  Damn them. Damn every single one of them.

  Her teeth clenched together so tightly she feared her jaw might break. “How can you do this? Do you have no conscience whatsoever?”

  Hope didn’t blink. “In case you haven’t heard, we’re at war. President Patterson said so himself. And in wartime, extreme measures have to be taken. During World War II, the atomic bomb was developed by scientists like me.”

  Yes, just like you.

  “And violent though that solution was, it saved tens of thousands of American lives. This is no different. I’ve been charged with finding a way to make sure what you did to Seattle never occurs again. So should I call Dr. Coutant? Or will you cooperate?”

  She slowly sank into the padded chair. “Just get it over with.”

  Hope lowered the giant metallic marrow-harvesting apparatus and pressed it beneath her flesh.

  Her screams were so loud they could surely be heard on the mainland.

  27

  OPINION OF THE COURT

  SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED

  STATES

  No. 14-1092

  MIRANDA SYLVESTER

  v.

  VENICE BEACH MALL, et al.

  ON WRIT OF CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES SUPREME COURT FROM THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE FIFTH CIRCUIT

  MR. CHIEF JUSTICE GOLDMAN delivered the opinion of the Court, four justices concurring, four justices dissenting. The case arose on an expedited docket from…

  (Selected excerpt from the 127-page majority opinion)

  …making the central question whether the mall has the right to refuse to allow members of the civil liberties organization led by the Petitioner to distribute literature and to proselytize on mall property. The mall refused the application, stating that the discussion of Shines would cause fear and apprehension on the part of shoppers attending the premises, including small children.

  Ultimately, this presents a constitutional question arising under the First Amendment. Although no person or organization has the right to suppress lawful speech, especially political speech, this Court has on previous occasions permitted rules and regulations designed to regulate the time, place, and manner in which such speech is presented.

  Here, the mall has completely denied the demands of Ms. Sylvester. To support such a denial, Appellee must show that their denial was based upon a substantial and reasonable interest as opposed to the intent to suppress political speech. Appellee must demonstrate that the intended speech promoted illegal or criminal activities, or constituted obscenity, or presented a danger to the health and safety of their patrons….

  Based upon the traditional time, place, and manner regulations previously permitted by this Court, we find that Appellee’s denial was justified because a Shine presence could reasonably be expected to cause disruption to the normal daily functioning of the business enterprise and could even present a safety hazard, especially in light of recent events creating a near-hysteria in many persons on the subject of Shines. This Court does not exist in an intellectual vacuum, and as such, we cannot ignore the repeated violent incidents that have threatened the safety and security of American citizens…

  …therefore we do not have to address the Fourteenth Amendment issue regarding whether Shines are entitled to traditional constitution protections, except to say that it is not a frivolous argument, especially given the pending legislation giving a specially designated council the right to suspend certain civil rights for Shines in time of emergency. That legislation has not yet been subject to judicial scrutiny but will undoubtedly be given such if it passes and the issue will more properly be decided at that time…

  28

  Aura lay in the underground chamber beneath the stables, her face pressed against the hard metallic floor. All around her she heard girls being tortured, cut, dismembered. Whipped.

  Blood splattered across the acrylic dividers.

  She pushed to her feet and walked.

  She saw her mother chained to the ceiling, her limbs pulsing, the black ooze coursing through her body. Beverly opened her mouth as if to speak and a tidal rush of black bugs gushed out.

  She kept walking.

  She didn’t stop till she came to the cell holding the tall teenage girl with the shaved head and the ankh tattoo. She was pinioned against the rear wall by giant spikes, but the spikes didn’t cuff her wrists. They went through her wrists. They pierced her wrists.

  But when she met the prisoner’s gaze, the girl smiled.

  “Do you fear me?”

  “No. Should I?”

  The girl laughed, even though it didn’t seem as if anyone had said anything remotely funny. “Everyone else does.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m not. The question is—why are you still here?”

  “We’re trying to find a way out. But it’s hard.”

  “Only because you refuse to use your gifts.”

  “Healing will not break us out of prison.”

  “You barely know what your gift is.”

  “My gift is restoring life.”

  “Life is a weapon,” the girl said, and all at once, her face morphed into a hideous, swollen, pus-filled obscenity. Suddenly there were two heads, and four faces, and they all laughed at her. The hair fell out, the skin peeled away, and the heads rocketed around the cell. They flew through the acrylic screen. The mouths, the hideous gaping maws, the razor-sharp teeth, rushed forward as if to swallow her—

  She sat bolt upright in bed, hyperventilating, sweat dripping from her face.

  She pressed her hand against her chest and tried to calm herself. Several moments passed before she even realized where she was.

  In her room. 4A. Lights out. A sliver of moonlight seeping through the shutters.

  Another hideous nightmare. Would this never end?

  At least this one didn’t have a little girl in it.

  “My God, you look pitiful. Some spook give you a jammie wedgie?”

  That would have to be Twinge. Crossing over to her bed. “I—had a bad dream. Very bad.”

  “What happened?” Dream pressed in close, shoving Twinge aside.

  “Nothing. Didn’t even make sense.”

  “If you want, I could erase—”

  Harriet pushed between them, jabbing Dream in the side. She pointed a finger at each of them, then pressed it against her lips. And they knew what that meant.

  Don’t even suggest the possibility of using your Shine.

  Harriet’s alarm clock had a white noise setting, and they’d been turning that on every night. The public explanation was that it helped her sleep. The real explanation was that it masked what the girls whispered to one another. With the noise in the background, so long as they kept what they said on the extreme down low, she thought it would be difficult for even the best eavesdropping equipment to pick it up. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get away with running the noise all day long. That was why they needed to master their new language. Harrietspeak.

  “Did you obligate your ste
pfather?”

  Dream’s eyes rolled back into her head. “Right, right. Uh, stop sign, I was too raincloud to even obligate my own billboard.”

  Twinge grinned. “Maybe you coin-opped too much pastrami on your nipple.” She whirled on Harriet. “Okay, we really need some vocabulary refinements.”

  She would’ve grinned if she weren’t so distraught about the nightmare. Where did that come from? Who was the girl with the ankh? She didn’t recall ever seeing that person before—when she was awake, anyway.

  Harriet’s secret language was a bizarre but vaguely logical series of noun and verb substitutions. Learning it was a slow process. She normally had a fabulous memory. But that worked better when what she memorized made sense.

  “Look, as long as you’re all awake, I have something I want you to see.” She reached under her pillow and withdrew the notes she’d scribbled earlier. It made sense to dole them out in the middle of the night in the dark, when there was less chance that someone might observe.

  “You’re giving us homework?” Dream said. “At two in the morning?”

  “Just read it.”

  A small smile crept across Harriet’s face. “You’ve got a good grasp of my language. I never thought I’d read someone else writing it.”

  “I have no idea what this means,” Dream said.

  “Well, figure it out.” She lowered her voice. “You have one hour. And then.” She pantomimed crumpling up the paper and swallowing it.

  “Eeew,” Dream said. “I am so not doing that.”

  “Yes, you are,” the other three replied.

  “No way. You can eat mine for me.”

  “Fine. Just read it.”

  She doubted they would have any trouble remembering this message. Because she thought she’d finally figured out a way that they might possibly be able to escape from this place. And take the prisoners with them. Or if that part failed, get out clean and bring back reinforcements to release the prisoners. Starting with Beverly.

  But if they were going to do it—and they were—everything would have to be done carefully, according to plan. And soon.

  29

  Aura could hardly contain herself. Group therapy was always unpleasant, though less so than Dr. Hope’s excruciating tests. But today she had an agenda. Which she was having a difficult time implementing. “Smug? Me?”

  “You heard what I said,” Mnemo replied.

  “I am, like, the least smug person on the face of the earth.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “We know you well enough.” Tank folded her arms across her broad chest. “You’re not the first pretty face to waltz into rehab, you know. You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? You don’t need this place. You don’t need help from anyone.”

  “I don’t think I’ve got it all figured out.” She scooted her pool chair closer. “I don’t think I’ve got anything figured out. All I said was that I didn’t understand why people have such negative attitudes toward Shines. I mean, it’s not as if we asked to be Shines.”

  “We’re abominations,” Tank said. “That’s what everyone says back in Nebraska.”

  “That’s a little harsh.” Dr. Coutant interjected herself into the convo. This was the first time the purported leader had spoken since the therapy session began. After what that woman had put her through, she had a hard time even breathing the same air, much less pretending that she considered Coutant a trusted advisor. “Aberrations, perhaps. But surely not abominations. At least not all Shines.”

  “Thanks for that strong show of support, doc.” Dream tipped a finger. “Good to know someone’s got our backs.”

  Gearhead leaned forward. She still avoided eye contact, but at least the girl spoke to her. “We don’t sense the desperation in you that we all feel.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Dream said. “And by the way, I know you’re the one who stole my iPod.”

  “I needed parts for my teleportation experiments.”

  She blinked. “I don’t get it Gearhead. Do you want me to feign desperation? What good does desperation do anyone? I try to stay positive. And aren’t we supposed to say what we think?”

  “Yes,” Gearhead replied. “And we’re supposed to tell you when we think you’re full of it. Which would be, essentially, always. Right, girls?” The three members of 4B nodded.

  This was not going the way she’d hoped. She wanted this to be the next step in recruiting 4B to their escape plan. But this clownfest was increasing the acrimony, not decreasing it.

  “I don’t get why you think I’m full of it just because I don’t think we should be embarrassed about who we are. Shines would be a lot better off if we stopped fighting with each another and started working together. Like, as a team of kindred spirits. Not prisoners trapped in the same cellblock.”

  “That’s exactly what they’re afraid we’ll do,” Mnemo said. “I’ve read several books on the subject of mass psychosis. Perceived fear. They locked us up to prevent us from banding together.”

  “Now Mnemo,” Coutant said, “I don’t think that’s the—”

  “Is that where all these rumors about Ohm come from?” Tank asked. “Is that part of the brainwashing? Holding out the promise of heaven if we just behave ourselves?”

  “A Shine paradise,” Mnemo rolled her eyes. “Don’t chainmail me. We know how ridiculous that is. We can’t go ten seconds without jumping down one another’s throats.”

  She felt exhausted. But she refused to quit trying.

  And at that moment, the answer popped into her head with such clarity that it startled her.

  “We do not have to give in to self-loathing, girls,” she began. “I know that’s how we’ve been taught to think. But we don’t have to buy the party line. We can think for ourselves. We don’t have to believe we’re bad or evil or freaks just because other people say we are.”

  Dr. Coutant peered through her narrow eyeglasses. “Did you ever consider the possibility, Aura, that you could be in denial?”

  “Did you ever consider the possibility that all Shines might not be exactly the same?”

  The corners of Coutant’s lips twitched.

  She remembered that she had promised to be good. Not to stir up trouble. If she made Coutant think she was inciting insurrection, she might end up back on the wrong end of the cattle prod. And Beverly would get worse.

  But she was supposed to express her feelings in group, right? So she would tell the girls something they all needed to hear—but she’d tread carefully. Coutant wouldn’t get a whiff of her endgame.

  “We’re still people, you know. And all people are not alike. What kind of people criticize others for something they can’t control? For the way they were born?”

  “Do you remember the first step, Aura?” Coutant asked.

  She nodded.

  “Say it for me.”

  “Why? You know it. We are powerless and our lives have become unmanageable.”

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  She glanced at the other girls in the circle. “I don’t feel powerless. I feel like I could make a positive contribution, if someone would give me half a chance. And I don’t think my life ever became unmanageable.”

  “So in your opinion, what happened in Seattle was perfectly managed.”

  She should’ve seen that cheap shot coming. “That—was not what I intended. Things got out of control.”

  “Which would be the very definition of ‘unmanageable.’”

  “You told us to be honest about our feelings, so I will. I feel like you don’t even listen to what I say, like you’ve already decided what my diagnosis will be—what everyone’s diagnosis will be—before we arrive. I am a Shine, but I am not sick. I do not have a disease.”

  Tank’s brows knitted together. “Are you completely delusional? You brought down the flicking Space Needle.”

  The entire circle fell silent. For a long time.

>   “Okay,” she said, flipping her hair back, “so I’m not perfect. I’ll admit that. But that doesn’t mean I’m some kind of…complete loony loser. And it doesn’t mean I should be locked up.”

  Coutant leaned forward and patted her on the knee. She almost cringed. “Give it some time, Aura. Everyone has difficulty admitting they have a problem. At first. But you’ll come around. I know you will.” Coutant gazed deeply into her eyes. “It’s the only way you’ll survive.”

  30

  Aura stared at the news program on the leisure room television, not absorbing a word of it, staring without listening. She was still enraged about that therapy session, and Coutant turning her into the group voodoo doll. Here I am, come stick some more pins into me.

  But mostly she was mad at herself, because she knew she had failed in her mission. She’d wanted to unify the two dorm rooms, bond with the girls in 4B. And she hadn’t even come close.

  “…the President talked to several public servants who participated in the Santa Monica investigation and cleanup. Afterward he remarked, ‘This situation has my primary attention. I am calling on Congress to convene an emergency session and pass Bill 1642 without any further delay. Especially in light of the recent Supreme Court decision, there is no excuse for delay and I do not believe the American people will tolerate it. This is not a time for partisan politics as usual. This is a time for Congress to act swiftly and decisively. I can assure all the traditional Americans that I will—‘”

  Someone shut the television off. “Aura?”

  She looked up. Mark. Ebony-eyes Mark. Why couldn’t she be doing one-on-one therapy with him? Preferably at a beach house in Maui.

  “You have a visitor.”

  “I do? Who?”

  Mark spoke awkwardly. He seemed disturbed about something. “I didn’t get a name. But…he says he’s your boyfriend.”

  “My—boyfriend?”