by Sarah Noffke
“Not really,” George says, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them with a sigh.
“Well,” Aiden begins in his casual, yet professional tone, “I’m trying to determine the mechanics of how you read emotions. I suspect this information is critical to the emotional modifier’s encoding. If I can define how your empathesis works, then it’s possible I can rewire the modifier to function on emotions the same way it does with thoughts.” He leans forward, giving George a conspiratorial look. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure this strategy will be successful. Thoughts and emotions are two different beasts and just because we can program one with the modifier doesn’t mean we can the other. I think this whole project is a long shot, but I also said the same thing about the consciousness screen I built on the GAD-Cs. So don’t be deterred by my skepticism. It keeps me grounded.” Aiden laughs. George doesn’t. All color suddenly drains from his face. Eyes full of dread, George twists his head over his shoulder, a new tension knitting his brow.
Usually my subconscious indicates when the event I’m witnessing is done. Now is not one of those times. I’ve seen enough. I spiral until I’m back in the Panther room.
I don’t make a report at the computer terminal. Instead I tromp past the station and down the hall. I’m not certain of the timing of the event with Aiden and George. All I know is the anger and betrayal I feel is jolting. It wraps around me, inciting a fast-burning rage. I allow this fire to fuel my actions. Right before I round the corner to Aiden’s lab I press my eyelids together and draw in a heavy breath.
George knows I’m there immediately. Now I realize I was the cause of him going pale and turning tense. Aiden, on the other hand, looks rather startled. No one says a word as I stomp across the lab. I stop in front of them, pin my hands on my hips, and briefly center my thoughts. I’m not an activist and I have no platform. But I’m a human being and speak from a place that wants to protect what we were all given when we were born—the right to think and feel for ourselves. The breath within my body has grown hotter, less steady, but I’m not shaking and for that I’m grateful.
“Hey, Roya,” Aiden says, sounding casual but wearing a nervous expression. “What brings the pleasure of your visit?”
I step forward and slam my hand down on the table. He flinches, inches back. George gives a worried stare.
“It’s not enough to manipulate people’s thoughts, now you’re going after their emotions?!”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Aiden says in a rush. “Whatever you’ve heard is wrong. Let me explain.”
“I didn’t hear about your project from anyone.”
Startled, he shakes his head. “Then how do you know—”
“I’m a News Reporter. I know.”
I level my gaze at him. There’s a terror in his eyes that increases moment by moment as he realizes just how much I know and how far gone that makes us.
I turn, pointing at George. “I’m thoroughly shocked you’ve consented to be a part of this! You know better than anyone this is a violation.”
George shamefully looks off to the right, nodding his head. “I know,” he says in a frustrated whisper.
I believe him. He appears genuinely remorseful. In a lower voice I say, “By consenting to be a part of this you’re abusing your power.”
He rubs his hand over his face. “Yeah,” he says, then nothing else. I stare at him for a minute. His eyes are red and full of an inescapable self-loathing. How did he get roped into this?
My accusatory stare turns on Aiden. I feel his treachery scrape at my insides as I bore into his intense blue eyes. “And you,” I scold, backing away, knowing I can’t be next to him or otherwise he’ll instantly try and right his wrong. Although I want to yell at him, insult him, make him feel as heartbroken as I do, I just stare across the five long feet that divide us. Shaking my head I force the sudden ache out with my words. “You are not who I thought you were. You’re evil.” Aiden stands suddenly, rushing over to me. I throw up a hand, blocking him. “Don’t come near me…ever again.” He responds with a pleading expression and I can’t afford to look at him for one second longer. I turn and stalk off, not looking back at the two guys who individually owned pieces of my heart and sent them up in a bushfire.
Chapter Fifteen
Like the autumn leaves of an oak tree, the reasons to get away from the Institute keep piling up. Maybe those jerks are actually doing me a favor by making it easier to leave. My brother’s a zombie. Aiden’s working on a demonic device like he’s God. And George is allowing himself to be a pawn in another deceptive game, a game that Trey is no doubt behind. I was right all along to leave this place. This time tomorrow, I’ll be gone. That’s my only bit of consolation.
I spend the rest of the day packing my belongings. Each garment reminds me of a memory I’ve had within the walls of the Institute. Steady fingers make every fold with precision and neatly arrange the items inside the many boxes scattered around my room. My mind meditates on releasing these memories, abandoning them here. Leaving the Institute is about creating a fresh start, since the life I’ve lived thus far has been a bunch of lies.
When my room is just a stack of boxes, I head for the computer lab. My heart feels shallow as I send a quick email to Bob and Steve to confirm the pickup time for tomorrow. They must be online because their reply arrives within minutes. At least I can count on them.
That night I sleep, but my dreams are full of scary images. My subconscious is trying to express itself, but I don’t want to hear its messages. When I awake I shake off the dreams of Aiden’s head on a chess piece and Joseph praying at an altar. These dreams make me doubt my decision, which is the last thing I should do. All I need is to get through the next few hours. That’s easy. I can do that.
My last meal at the Institute and unsurprisingly I’m not hungry. Apparently neither is George. He takes the seat next to me without his usual omelet. “Can we talk? Please.”
“No,” I answer too fast. “Not right now,” I say, my tone softer this time. “Not today.”
He nods with understanding. “Okay, then I just want to say I’m sorry.” The humility in his expression has a disarming effect on me. I’m just about to say more to him, but right then something takes me by utter surprise. Joseph sits down on the opposite side of the table. I haven’t seen him in the main hall for too long. His appearance hasn’t changed; if anything he looks skinnier.
He gives me a cold expression, one that alienates me. “I came to see you off.”
“That’s big of you. Why don’t you eat something while you’re here,” I suggest.
“I’m not hungry.”
All eyes around the table lock on us. Usually I crave my privacy, but what’s the point in hiding this feud.
“I wouldn’t be trying if I didn’t take this last opportunity to ask you to stay,” he says across the long space that separates us. Everyone turns to me, awaiting my reply.
“Oh, so you didn’t really come to see me off, did you?”
“I did,” he says through clenched teeth.
“No, this is all about you and what you want.”
“It’s about us, Stark. It’s about us sticking together.”
“I’m all for that. Tell me, where were you last week? Or this week? I’ve been here, but you haven’t been sticking around much at all, have you?” I accuse.
The volley is in his court. Everyone’s heads turn to Joseph, awaiting his rebuttal.
A layer of bitterness settles over his dull expression. “Why wouldn’t you want to stay here with your friends?” He makes a sweeping motion at the table.
“Because I can’t be here. The Institute is full of lies and secrets. I can’t put up with it anymore. I don’t trust this place. And I especially don’t trust that man.” I point to Trey, who’s just taken center stage in the main hall.
A hush falls on the crowd. Trey’s actions are rushed, coated in stress. He taps the microphone twice but we’re already looking at him. “I need everyone’s
attention.” Running his hands through his overworked hair he says, “Dr. Livingston, the Head Scientist for the Institute, is missing. We believe he’s been abducted.”
No! The word is short but deliberate in my mind. Disbelief leaks into me like toxic gas into a room, leaving no breathable air. Startled gasps echo around the room, but not from me. Trey’s words can’t be real. Can’t be real. Can’t be real. All realness has slipped out of my life in one giant breath. Trey’s words can’t mean what I think they do. He’s joking. I wait for Aiden’s eyes to materialize in the doorway. His smile to unfurl. For Trey to laugh and say it’s all a joke. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. And with each passing second this becomes real. My reality. My nightmare.
“We are on full lockdown,” Trey continues, his voice strict, urgent. “No one is to dream travel out of the Institute until further notice. Lastly, if you see Amber Morten then alert a Head Official immediately. We’ll give you more information as we have it.” With hurried steps Trey walks off the stage and out of the room.
The main hall is a sudden commotion of voices and movements. I remain frozen, eyes locked on nothing. My heart sinks beneath my knees, to a place lower than I thought it could ever go. Everyone speaks and moves all around me, but I just stare at the table feeling myself recede further and further. I dive down into that hollow part of me until I feel the ache take over and my head begins to throb. How could Aiden be missing? Why would someone abduct him? How could someone do that? Worry is a wild horse inside me, charging, scattering dust, marking everything with its hoof prints. Every time a new worry runs across my mind I feel it reverberate and echo in the depths of my stomach.
A hand touches my shoulder. In one movement I turn, throwing a hard block, sending the hand away. Samara’s eyes widen. I look at her, frozen. “I’m sorry,” I say in a hoarse whisper. It’s almost impossible to force words through my aching throat. “I just…and that caught me off guard.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says, pulling her hand to her chest like it’s injured. “Are you all right?”
I realize I haven’t been breathing properly when my head becomes suddenly light. Everyone at the table is looking at me. Did they all know? Did they know how much I cared for Aiden? Did they know that this hurt? When I see Trent’s consoling expression I realize that everyone probably knew something. His look is enough to make me realize I can’t face George. His expression will surely break me in two. My eyes flick up to find Joseph’s, then away. It hurts worse to see him and know he knows I’m upset. He doesn’t look away but instead says, “I guess you can’t leave now.” His words are cold, unkind. I want to punch him, but instead I let the statement in his words take full control of my being.
“No, I have to go. I have to get out of here.” My voice shakes. More now than ever, I have to get out of here. Instinctively I know if I get away from this place then the piercing pain will subside. Aiden, wherever he is, will be found. He has to be. And I can’t help him anyway. All I can do here in this stainless steel box is worry and ache, and I’m at my threshold with that. I have to get out of here, very soon, or otherwise I’ll combust.
I race through the first level trying to determine where I can find Trey now. Would he be in his office and if so, where is that? I’m searching like never before, hitting every button next to every door. When I don’t find anything on the first level I move my search down to the second. It doesn’t take long for me to determine that his office isn’t there. I descend to level three. The brushed stainless steel walls are extra cold right now. My heart races in my chest. I round a corner and pass the computer lab. After I turn again I realize that I’m in new territory. Passing through a long hallway I finally come to a door. When I’m just about to hit the button I see above it a label: “Head Official.” I stop just before my fingers touch the button and knock.
There’s a sudden shuffling. The door slides back and disappears. Trey stands looking anxious, tired. When I was searching for his office I kept rehearsing the insults I would say to him in order to get my way. My resolve dissipates as I take in his turquoise eyes, red and heavy. Now I feel stupid for bringing my pitiful, selfish wants to him when he’s in the midst of something awful. I shake this off and chew on my lip momentarily. “Trey, I’m sorry to disturb you, but—”
“No, it’s fine.” He steps aside, welcoming me into his office. “Please come in.”
His hospitable manner surprises me. I step past him and into the large office. It distinctly reminds me of Bob and Steve’s inviting library, with books lining the walls, strange artifacts punctuating different areas, and beautiful tapestries hanging here and there. A large wooden desk sits in the middle of the room. On it is a stained glass lamp that gives off a brilliant array of colors and lights. Trey pulls himself up to his desk. He indicates the leather armchair opposite him. The chair is firm and the leather cool under my skin.
Trey stares straight at me with his hands folded on his desk. His expression is playing at sincerity, but I don’t buy it. One doesn’t master the art of manipulation without garnering trust. “You have something you want to ask me?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to catch my breath, feeling a bit surprised that it escaped me suddenly. “I know you said that we’re not supposed to dream travel, but I’ve made plans to leave the Institute. I’m going to live with Bob and Steve and—”
“Wait, what? When?” Trey leans forward, frowning.
“I’ve been trying to find you, but you haven’t really been around. I’m scheduled to leave today,” I say, mustering confidence even though I feel submissive and weak.
“I know I have been absent. I’m working on something,” Trey says, spreading his hands out on his desk.
“Well, that’s no matter at this point.” I try to take charge of the conversation, thinking this will work in my favor after my request. “Anyway, I’m here because I know you said we can’t dream travel right now, but I need to in order to leave. All I’m going to do is travel to the central GAD-C, generate, and then I’ll be safe in Bob and Steve’s protection.”
Trey’s shaking his head at me before I’m even done talking. “No, you’re not going.”
“But that’s not fair! I’ll be fine,” I say. “It’s not too dangerous.”
“Roya, this isn’t about fairness.”
“Look, I’m sorry that Aiden is missing.” My breath hitches in my throat. Seeps from my being. My face must be an awful shade of burgundy at this point. Trey can’t know how I feel. He can’t. “It’s awful that something has happened to him, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m leaving the Institute.”
“You’re not leaving,” Trey says rather calmly.
“It isn’t too dangerous.” I continue to argue with him even though I’m not saying anything new. “I can make it and I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not saying you’re not going because it’s too dangerous, although it is,” Trey says, sitting back in his chair. “You’re not going because we need you.” He pauses, tucks his chin, and looks at me intently. “We need you to bring Aiden back.”
Chapter Sixteen
Stunned. There’s no other word for it. This is not the answer I expected. At all. I anticipated Trey to tell me no, or dismiss me, or even not to grace me with his time and attention during this demanding period. I never expected that he needed me to rescue Aiden. My stomach turns over twice before I find my voice.
“What?”
“Specifically, we need you to lead the rescue mission, but I’ll explain everything to you in twenty minutes. I was about to send a note requesting that you and the team meet me in room 222.” He stands and strides to the door, opening it for me. “Please be there and I’ll fill you in on the whole situation.”
My legs stand without a command from my brain. Footsteps carry me over the threshold. I’m truly on autopilot at the moment. My brain registers the sound of Trey’s door sliding closed behind me and the sight of the empty hallway, but I have zero idea what’s g
oing on in my head and my heart. Those parts have retreated to a storm shelter. Vaulted away, unable to properly deal with the idea that Aiden is gone and his safety depends on me. The part of me currently controlling my body is all instinct—my autonomic nervous system. This portion of me which for all of my life has controlled my breathing, heartbeat, and blinking is now taking on the extra burden of putting each foot in front of the other again and again and again.
♦
Fifteen minutes later I awake on the floor of my room. I don’t remember going there. I don’t know how I ended up on the floor. All I know is I have five minutes to put myself together before I’m expected in room 222. I haven’t the slightest idea how to avoid going to this meeting or accepting the role Trey has volunteered me for. It doesn’t make any sense that he’s chosen me over Ren or Shuman or a dozen other people. What’s going to happen to Aiden if I’m in charge of his fate? A dull throbbing takes residence in my chest. Aiden. Where is he? Who has him? Why? Is he all right? Could he be dead?
Dead.
The word, and its possible connection to Aiden, assaults my chest. My heart has been encased in a box too small for it. Each beat is accompanied by aching pressure as my heart tries to contract, but can’t fully.
If I’m going to be forced to stay at the Institute during this tumultuous time, then I’ll only survive this by distracting myself from this pain. Maybe there’s no better way to do that than to be thrown into this mission. But first I need answers. A lot of them.
♦
When I arrive in room 222, Ren, Shuman, and George are already present. Sitting. Not talking. These are not people to make small talk. Right now I like this about them.
My eyes seize a painting taking up the far wall. An abstract composition of blues and greens reminding me of the ocean. It definitely wasn’t there the last time I was in here.
“Hey,” George says, pulling out the chair next to him. I take the seat, gauging his expression. It doesn’t give anything away. Neither does Shuman’s. Both have sullen expressions, which is pretty typical for them. Ren, on the other hand, looks quite out of the ordinary. For one, he has a greenish bruise around his eye, a two-inch cut along his check, and his hands are battered. He isn’t looking at anyone, but rather staring at the table. Usually he’d be flaunting his arrogance around, making snide remarks accompanied by hateful sneers. Instead he looks humbled. Hopefully this new demeanor will stick around for a while.
