Kill School: Slice

by Karen Carr

  “Games are fun, aren’t they?” the voice asks.

  I nod, mesmerized by the action. A flaming ball hits a boy in a garnet and ruby striped uniform in the arm. He falls off her hoverboard and slams into the wall. I hear a crack and the boy screams. There isn’t another question; instead, I have to choose an answer:

  I don’t like violence. Maybe I’ll get some more popcorn.

  I know he is hurt. I want to see the rest of the game.

  Kill him!

  “These are all my choices?” I ask.

  Where is the one that says I would help him? I don’t like violence. He’s hurt. I don’t care about the rest of the game or popcorn. Kill him.

  The screen goes dark and then I see myself holding an amethyst token in my palm. I grab my own palm and wince. The soundproof room in the library must have been bugged. I didn’t see any annoying little microdrones, but they may have been resting on the bookshelves. Or, maybe Burke has something to do with the tests. The algorithm. I have to find out more about these tests. My mind is jumping all over the place. I can’t breathe.

  The token spins slowly on my palm.

  “You find yourself in an awkward situation,” the computerized voice says. “You have to kill a Regulator. Which one do you choose?”

  I want to get out of the pod right now. I feel as if I am going to suffocate if I don’t get out. I unleash the strap and feel around for the door.

  “You must finish your test,” the voice says calmly. “Choose now.”

  When I can’t find a way out, I sit back in my seat and review my choices.

  Regulator Halsted, Regulator Azarian, Regulator Thorn, and Regulator Krish appear on the screen. Each one has a red dot next to his or her picture. I don’t want anyone to know I plan on killing Regulator Krish. I can’t choose Demi’s father or my own representative Regulator Thorn.

  I press my thumb into the red dot next to Regulator Halsted’s face.

  The voice asks me more questions and the answer choices appear on the screen. I can’t understand the words, both verbal and written; my mind is swimming with amethyst tokens. I press the buttons randomly, hoping that it will be over soon. I’m vaguely aware of the scenery, biology class, the pyramid of grace, the Vactrain tube. It’s as if I’m reliving the last week of my life.

  Finally, I am done with the test. When the pod opens, I’m not surprised to see I am in the room with the two chairs. A bottle of water and a banana wait for me on the table. This time, I take the water, gulp down the whole thing, and sit in the chair to wait for Dr. Heap.

  Dr. Heap enters a short time later with a pile of papers in her hand. She’s studying them so hard, that she doesn’t even look up to greet me when she sits in the chair. After a few more minutes, she looks up.

  “Interesting test results.” She puts down the paper and reaches in her pocket for a bottle of pills. “They switched me to this.” She opens the bottle, takes out two pills, and swallows them with some water.

  “I can explain,” I say. I try to read her mind. It’s not good. Her foot shakes up and down. She looks frustrated.

  Dr. Heap picks up the banana and points it at me like a gun. Even though it’s just a banana, I spring back in my chair.

  “What’s wrong with the banana?” She examines the fruit and puts it down on the table. “Never mind.” She moves her chair closer to mine. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I understand. You had a rough week. You chose randomly, didn’t you?”

  I nod and glance at the papers on the table. “I’m sorry. Can I take it again?”

  “No retakes,” Dr. Heap says. “Random answers are common on the second test. They can be quite revealing, too. Your subconscious mind takes over and can reveal your true inclination.”

  “Can I see my results?” I reach for the stack of paper with my bandaged hand. I want to know if she’s seen my answer to the amethyst question.

  Dr. Heap grasps my hand before I can touch the papers.

  “How’s slice going?” She turns my hand over and looks closely at my palm.

  “It’s not,” I say.

  I tell her everything that happened, from me being too sick to go to class, to accidentally stabbing myself and fainting in biology. While I regurgitate my week, she stuffs the papers back in her briefcase. I get the feeling that she won’t tell me anything about my answers. When the new pod drops from the ceiling, signaling the end of the session, I am right. I get up and walk out the door, hoping Dr. Heap is not on to me.

  Burke rounds us up outside the science building. While everyone chatters around me, excited about the game, I remain quiet. I still can’t believe the computer knew about my amethyst token and I am terrified that the Regulators will swoop in and send me to control. I want to talk to Burke in private more than ever now.

  We walk together across campus towards the stadium. I know where it is and what it looks like from my inclination test. I wonder how many of the other kids had similar experiences. Burke comes to my side and walks with me, neither speaking nor acknowledging me. I am glad he is with me. Feeling his presence makes me feel like I am not doing this alone.

  As we walk, Burke tells us about the games. There are about eight hundred kids in camp. Parents get to come on graduation day, along with the media, and spectators. There may over three thousand people here today. As we walk across the bridge, Burke tells us that the reason the stadium was built on the other side was to prevent parents, or any others from accessing camp or the scientific research done here.

  We walk through the woods and over to a long and low structure built into the side of the mountain. The entrance is low and long. Seeing it, just as it was in my test, gives me prickles all over. A breeze from the stadium entrance sends shivers across the group. Even though we are wearing our new jackets, it is bone-chilling cold. We enter the stadium and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkly lit space.

  Chapter Twenty

  The stadium looks like someone took a giant ice cream scooper and scooped out part of the mountain. Rows of bleachers circle the oval field at the bottom of the stadium. Sections of bleachers are painted different colors, ruby, sapphire, opal. Turquoise is the largest sections and by the chemical smell, recently painted.

  We split up over the turquoise section and find seats where possible. I end up sitting in the aisle next to Burke. Bright lights shine onto the field. Three colored circles, perhaps twenty-five feet across, sit together in a triangle in the center of the field. Opal. Sapphire. Turquoise. The colors of the three winning teams.

  A camera crew is interviewing Mr. Wassillie at the base of the field. He’s flailing his arms around as he does when he tells some exaggerated story. The reporter is the one that was here before. She has a rectangular stadium pass around her neck. The parents, the spectators, all wear passes. So many people. In three short weeks, all of them will be staring at me on the field.

  Mr. Wassillie ends his interview and turns to us. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he’s raising his hands up and down. The kids in the lower sections clap and cheer. He’s running up the aisle like an athlete greeting the fans and shaking people’s hands. His colorful robe flaps behind him like a sail. He’s coming for me. I can tell. I’m going to have to shake his hand.

  I turn my back to the aisle.

  “Burke, distract me,” I say. “Pretend we’re talking about something interesting.”

  Burke glances at Mr. Wassillie and then puts his arm on the back of my neck.

  “Bring your head closer,” Burke says.

  I automatically pull away because I don’t want him to kiss me.

  “Not like that,” I say.

  He grins and raises his eyebrows as he gets my meaning.

  “Relax; I’m not going to make out with you in the middle of the stadium. Wassillie would really be interested in that.”

  By the cheers, I can tell Mr. Wassillie is getting closer. Burke tells me a story about the birds in the meadow, how he goes out there early some mornin
gs to feed them. He tells me he did the same thing as a little boy when his parents were alive.

  A hand touches my shoulder. I’m so engrossed in Burke’s story, how the birds land on his outstretched arms that I’ve forgotten about Mr. Wassillie.

  “There she is,” Mr. Wassillie says.

  I can’t ignore him now.

  Mr. Wassillie kneels beside my seat.

  “I heard about you fainting in biology. I thought you could use some special treatment today.”

  I can’t imagine what kind of special treatment he has in mind, but whatever it is, I want no part of it. Knowing Wassillie, he wants me to parade around behind him on the field. Maybe he needs someone to carry the tail end of his robe so it doesn’t get dirty.

  I’m content to sit next to Burke.

  “No thanks,” I mumble.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Burke says. He pulls me closer to him, almost on his lap, which makes me feel so awkward that my cheeks flush.

  Mr. Wassillie looks at Burke’s arm around my shoulders and frowns. Burke removes it and stiffens. I feel like I’m caught in the middle of two dogs about to fight.

  “I’d like Aria to join us in the box today,” Mr. Wassillie shouts above the ever-increasing noise of the crowd.

  “We’ll stay here,” Burke says, almost before Mr. Wassillie finishes his sentence.

  Burke clamps his hand on my shoulder, holding me in my seat. The force of his hand travels down my back to my still-sore rear. I squirm to try to dislodge Burke’s hand, but I am unsuccessful.

  “She’ll come with me,” Mr. Wassillie says. He grabs my forearm and tries to yank me from my seat. “I insist. You can come with us, Burke.”

  “No thanks,” says Burke. He’s not moving his hand. His fingers dig into my shoulder, making me squirm. His neck muscles pulse.

  Mr. Wassillie tries to remove Burke’s arm, but it is like a boulder to him.

  “I want to bring you both to the Regulator’s box,” Mr. Wassillie says.

  “The Regulator’s box?” I ask. “Like with all the Regulators?”

  This is my chance to meet my targets in person. I want to go. I want to meet them. I have to see what they are like. I’m tired of Burke and Mr. Wassillie playing tug-of-war with my body.

  “Burke, let me get up.” I pry his fingers from my shoulder.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Wassillie says.

  Mr. Wassillie takes my hand and helps me up from my seat. His smug expression puts a scowl on Burke’s face.

  I pull away from Mr. Wassillie.

  “Are you coming?” I ask Burke. He’s looking into the crowd. I don’t want to do this alone. Burke knows the Regulators. Burke’s a friend. But, I’m not going to beg.

  Mr. Wassillie kicks Burke’s shoe.

  “You really need to work on your anger issues,” Mr. Wassillie says. “Wipe that frown off your face.”

  Burke finally stands up.

  “Let’s go, then,” he says.

  Music blasts from the stadium’s speakers. The crowd jumps to their feet and cheers. Mr. Wassillie turns around, gives a fist bump to the crowd, and then climbs the stairs. Burke and I follow him up the stairs, through a door, down a hall, and into the Regulator’s box.

  Several sets of loveseats face one another, each with a separate throw blanket symbolizing the colors. Wine glasses and carafes rest on each end table. Pillows are arranged diamond style on the loveseats. Bowls of nuts and chocolates are laid out. A table is filled with more food and beverages. And the Regulators. Jeans and polo shirts. Cotton turtlenecks. Robes strewn on the couches.

  Seeing the Regulators, casually dressed and mingling, makes me feel uncomfortable. They’re Regulators. I’ve only seen them on stage, speaking and presenting awards. To blend in with them seems impossible. I recognize Regulator Thorn and Regulator Halsted immediately. I’m not sure about the others. It’s been so long since I studied their records. They look so different in their robes. I think Regulator Krish is talking to Demi’s dad, Regulator Azarian.

  When I see Jack pop out from behind Regulator Azarian’s shadows, I know I am correct.

  “Aria,” Jack says as he bounds over to me.

  Because of Jack’s loud announcement, the Regulators all tilt their heads toward me. Burke steps to the side and over to a table filled with refreshments. Mr. Wassillie follows him as if to scold him some more. Regulator Azarian notices both of them and joins them at the refreshment table.

  “What are you doing here?” Jack asks.

  “I was invited,” I say. I quickly notice several other kids by the viewing area, sitting on the couch or over by the refreshments. The kids range in age from toddler to teen.

  “You?” Jack asks as if there has been some mistake.

  “Yea, me,” I say. “Mr. Wassillie’s treat.”

  Jack gives me a puzzled expression. Before I can ask him why he seems so confused, Regulator Thorn comes over to us.

  “Aria,” she says. “I’m so glad you took me up on my invitation. I thought it would be good to get to know you. Your mother is so dear to me.”

  Regulator Thorn invited me. That’s why Jack was so puzzled. I bet Mr. Wassillie doesn’t even have the authority to invite anyone. I watch Regulator Krish step in front of Mr. Wassillie to continue his conversation with Burke. Mr. Wassillie hangs his head and then goes over to a group of smaller kids.

  “Come sit with me to watch the games,” Regulator Thorn says.

  Regulator Thorn takes me through two rows of leather seats to the very front of the box. Several young adults glance at me strangely, as we sit down. None of the other Regulators sits with us.

  Regulator Thorn glances over her shoulder and then back at me.

  “I’m the only one who actually watches the games. Do you like them?” she asks.

  “I’ve never seen one,” I say.

  She throws her head back. “I am surprised. They are all televised. Your mother used to be such a fan.”

  I regard the three rings in the field.

  “It reminds me of the circus,” I say.

  Regulator Thorn smiles. “I haven’t been to a circus in a hundred years. Do they still exist?”

  I tell her about what’s happened to them. She knows about the extinct animals but seems surprised that people are scared to go out in public. She glances at me sideways and tucks my hair behind my ear.

  “Much better. Now I can see your face. You do look like your mother.” She touches my cheekbones. “Here.” She runs a finger across an eyebrow. “And here.”

  “How do you know my mother so well?” I ask.

  “She has never told you?” Regulator Thorn asks.

  Suddenly, everything goes dark, sending a hush through the crowd. Before I can ask Regulator Thorn about my mother, the whole stadium lights on fire and the crowd screams. I find myself screaming along with them as the metal bar in front of me and all the bars between the seats down below catch on fire. I hope this was planned.

  Regulator Thorn sits forward and raises her head above the flames, smiling down at the crowd. I examine her face and try to figure out what my mom was supposed to have told me. Her dark skin is much darker than my mother’s but her eyebrows, and her cheekbones are similar. Regulator Thorn is over a hundred years old. Could she be a distant relative?

  Everything goes dark again. At first, the crowd is silent, but then whispers fill the air. Three large flaming circles appear on the ground. Opal, sapphire, and turquoise. In the middle of the circles, the winning teams stand on hoverboards.

  An explosion brings out a flaming ball and instantly all the teams are into the action. Some of the kids have large missile type guns that shoot out flaming balls. Other kids have hockey sticks and go after a flaming puck. I am aware that Regulators Krish and Azarian have sat directly behind me. They are arguing over something.

  Azarian tells Krish to be patient. It’s not the right time. Regulator Thorn turns around and tells them to hush before they say anything else.


  I turn my attention to the field. One of the players shoots the flaming puck through a goal and the crowd cheers or boos. A flaming ball hits a girl. A boy takes a stick in the shin. When the third player gets hurt, I excuse myself and move away from the view. I find a spot on the couch and flop down.

  Burke sits down next to me. The gold in his hair shimmers with the flickering light.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice serious.

  “I’m not sure I should tell you,” I whisper. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug them.

  “Oh,” he says. He sounds hurt.

  “Not here,” I add, looking around. “Truthfully, I just want to go.”

  “I can arrange that,” Burke says. “Act sick.”

  He gets up and walks over to Mr. Wassillie.

  Mr. Wassillie glances at me and tilts his head as if he doesn’t believe Burke. I cough and sneeze a few times. My acting sucks but it seems to work because Burke comes back over to me.

  Burke holds out his hand to help me up.

  “Let’s go,” he says.

  We walk out of the stadium and into the cold night. Burke hums as we take the path along the backside of the buildings toward our cabin.

  “Why are you in such a good mood?” I ask.

  Burke looks up at the three story high English building.

  “I’ll tell you when we’re not around so many windows.”

  We walk past the buildings talking about the game. We reach the long path on the way to our cabin. Halfway down the path, Burke stops and turns to me. He smiles at me and touches my chin. The gesture is so warm, that I get a prickly sensation all over my body.

  “I’m done,” he says. His eyes glint mischievously in the moonlight. They are almost the color of the moon.

  “Done with what?” I ask.

  “I never have to kill again,” he says. “That debriefing I went to was mine. I am free.”