Ivy

by William Dickstein

  “Oh my—Tristan! What the hell are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not making a joke. Ivy, I don’t know why the machine acted that way. That’s the truth, alright? I have no idea why that happened. And I have no idea because the only answer for why it would is because you aren’t human. I’m looking at the programming, and I’m telling you, there’s no other reason for it to act that way. Not that I can see.”

  “And that’s fine. Whatever. Except for, you know, me obviously being a person.”

  “That’s what I’m saying!” Tristan said excitedly. “Sorry, sorry. This is obviously a big deal in different ways for both of us.”

  “Seriously, whatever,” I said. “Were you at least able to see what I was talking to?”

  Tristan crinkled his nose and squinted. “Er…”

  “Great! Awesome! My life is just one big puzzle, I guess!” I could feel my eyes beginning to water, my heart rate already back to where it’d been when we were walking too quickly. “It… It doesn’t even matter.” I started to walk away, but Tristan reached out to me.

  “Hang on a second,” he said. “I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to upset you. I could have delivered the news better.”

  “It’s not you,” I said. “Not really. It’s just sort of everything, I guess. It’s all of it. These are the last days before those people inside decide whether or not I get to be a Cape. I can’t deal with this right now, and I don’t really think I should deal with it at all. Don’t worry, alright? You didn’t do anything wrong. I know you were just trying to help.” To be honest, I’m not sure I actually felt that way. As most of the words left my mouth, I could feel one of my old psychiatrists speaking through me. I was more a psychic medium in that moment to the kinds of things she used to tell us to say than I was myself. But it seemed to work. Tristan let the words sink in and nodded his head.

  “If I can figure anything out, then I’ll let you know right away.”

  “Alright. Thanks.”

  I let the tears fall when I was far enough away. They were hot on my cheeks. I caught one with my tongue and let the saltiness move across my tongue and into the back of my mouth, where the mucus was starting to pile up. If I let it, a whole river of tears was ready to flow behind the drops I’d already let loose, I could feel it anxious to be free as my throat tightened. But there wasn’t any time. Dinner was soon, and I had some reading to do.

  My demonstration was only a few days away.

  The week of my exams and demonstration, there were less recruits at the academy. Graduation used to happen for everyone at once, but over the years it became staggered. Tristan and the others who had already given their demonstrations took their written exams shortly after the presentation, and every one of them had been shipped out to join a team or sent back to wherever they’d come from if they didn’t make it. Most of them did make it, of course—there’s plenty of use in the GHS for people who can invent amazing things. Two of them had been re-enrolled as recruits though, their physical fitness and hand-to-hand skills not quite up to par.

  Both of them had a better run time than I did, so I was starting to worry.

  Everything will be fine, Little One.

  Thanks, I guess we’ll see.

  The written exams at the GHS academy were much easier to study for than I had anticipated. I’d had harder tests growing up in the group homes. It boiled down to memorizing a packet that they gave us, the pages inside full of the many presentation slides we’d looked at over the course of the previous weeks. I already had most of the answers simply because I’d paid attention to the presentations. When I sat down to take the written exam, I was one of the first to turn it back in, confident that I’d scored well above what would be considered passing. There was only one question I wasn’t sure of, and it had to do with who to contact when you’ve been party to the destruction of a private residence built through a subsistence program. The voices suggested what the answer was for some reason.

  Number forty-two is B.

  And that’s what I marked.

  The physical fitness portion of the exit exam includes a timed run through an interconnected obstacle course as well as a hand-to-hand combat session. I elected to fight first, thinking it might help me warm up a bit before I’d have to run. Going through previous obstacle courses winded me about as much as running long distance, the food in my stomach sometimes bouncing around even more when scaling a wall or jumping from high up into a deep pool of water. I didn’t want to be too tired to spar.

  Rather than simply observe—as they did during demonstrations—one of the GHS officials was there to be our opponent. His gene making him a Tactician, giving him the aforementioned ability to think through a fight in such a way that he knew which moves to make to keep himself from getting hit or to put down his opponent. The official explained as the both of us were stretching that he’d managed to dial in his abilities so that he wasn’t just paying attention to his own moves, but could analyze the moves of his opponent as well. It made him the perfect person to have when it came to judging the prowess and skill of someone else. He promised to take it easy on me, as well.

  But I knew better.

  We had set up in one of the gymnasiums, the wrestling mats back down all across the floor. They felt new under my feet, the foam so fresh that I bounced just a bit if I stepped on them too hard. The GHS official was much taller than I was, giving him a massive reach advantage. I knew if I wanted to land any hits, I’d have to find a way to get in close. He waited for me to come at him after we started, and the few feints I gave—jumping forward just a little as if I were going to move in for a strike—let me know right away that he was going to tag me easily if I tried to get inside at all. We circled each other for a moment, and I could see his eyes darting every which way, moving from my hands to my feet and up to my hips. When his eyes looked back to my hands, I tried to take one final opportunity to rush in to try and land a hit, but I took a kick to my side for the effort. I pushed into the hit, catching the GHS official’s leg to go for the takedown. He brought his other foot up from the ground and turned his hip over to kick me in the side of the head. The blow came slowly, and I managed to let go of his leg and duck underneath although the official scurried forward too quickly for me to follow.

  My side ached from the hit, and I could sense that he wasn’t going to try to come at me at all. With anyone else, I might have taunted them. In the real world, I might have just walked away, the fight quickly becoming a frustrating endeavor. With him there to decide whether or not I could go on to become a Cape, I was forced to keep trying to land a blow on the lanky man. He and I hadn’t discussed anything being expressly off limits, but taunting felt like it would be frowned upon, at least by the Senior Capes.

  I began to circle him again, paying less attention to where I was looking, changing my direction every few moments. I pivoted twice but the GHS official easily kept himself centered as I did. On the third pivot, I exploded off of the mat, taking two steps forward before launching myself into a flying knee. The fresh springs underneath my feet propelled me a little higher and at a faster speed than I had anticipated, and it seemed to catch the GHS official off guard as well, as he barely managed to bring his hands up to block my knee. I had been expecting him to strike while I was in the air, so I grabbed onto the back of his head as I landed, thinking to try and bring a knee up into his face after I landed. The lanky man stepped back too quickly, though, the strength in his legs great enough to pull me forward. My hands slid down the sides of his head and I grabbed onto his shoulders, his fists already coming up to punch my thighs and abdomen. I jumped as I regained my balance and took a fist to the foot as I swung myself over to latch onto his back. The lanky man tried to tuck his pointed chin. He shrugged his shoulders up to protect his neck but I weaseled my arms around anyway. The fingers on my left hand got stuck until the sweat on my palms lubricated them enough to squeeze through, something that always seems to come easi
er to me because I am missing a digit. Half a heartbeat later, I had the man in a chokehold where he stood, my legs locked in a figure four to squeeze his stomach and crush his ribs. He tried again to tuck his chin, and worked to loosen my grip, but I squeezed all the tighter. I wanted for him to tap on my arm and let me know that the match was over, but he didn’t, continuing to stand as I choked him out. I looked over to the other officials, their faces completely blank as they watched me strangle their colleague to what would soon be a state of dark blue and purple.

  When his skin started to make the change from red to blue, I let go. I was almost outraged it had gotten to that point, impressed he’d managed to continue standing even though I was certain I’d had my arms around his neck long enough that should have passed out. I went to call out to the other officials, trying to ask them why they hadn’t come over to stop me from killing the lanky man, when one of his long feet came down hard on my toes. The springiness of the mat saved me from anything breaking, though I could feel them begin to fill with blood immediately. A hard elbow came around to hit me in the stomach, and then the GHS official spun back to kick me in the chest. His foot hit me hard, feeling as if it might have deflated my breasts fully as the blow knocked me off my feet and made me skid across the mat, my vision blurring as my head bounced on impact.

  The lanky man turned around, his skin appearing to be nearly back to its normal color through my blurred sight, and he came at me fast, chopping quickly as he attempted to swing his foot up and down onto me as if it were an axe and I was wood meant for his stove. I rolled twice to get away, frog jumping at his waist as I came back to my knees, the both of us going to the ground. We landed with a crash, my vision still blurry, and the GHS official’s hands worked to grab my shirt collar; he attempted to turn me around as we began to grapple. I dug my knee into the side of his thigh, going for a pressure point. Then I shifted my weight to my lower half, yet the lanky man very nearly managed to throw me around anyway, his long arms much stronger than their small size had led me to believe. My arms came up to break his hold and I moved my knees out to the side, sitting in his guard and bringing my hands up to pound his face with my fists. He grabbed my right wrist before I could position myself to strike and brought his head up to my chest. I countered by pushing his face with my shoulder just far enough to land a solid hit with my other hand to the right side of his face. He reeled a little bit from the blow, and I struck two more times, the lanky man letting go of my wrist on the second hit. I went to continue hitting him, but he spit his mouthpiece out and immediately asked me to stop.

  I got up as quickly as I could, stepping back far enough to be out of his reach. He walked over to grab a towel and picked up a clipboard and pen, speaking softly to his colleagues as he made check marks onto the paper with his back turned to me. He tore off the top copy and walked over to me, his hand stretched out to give me the sheet.

  “You passed,” he said. “Your instincts are good. You weren’t going to choke me to death from behind, but you were ready to hit me until it was over. Your speed could use some work, and there’s less power behind your hits than you could be putting into them. Find someone who can work with you on your striking, since it’s nowhere near as good as your ground game. I didn’t read much of your file. Have you been grappling long?”

  “Nearly all of my life,” I said. “I grew up a ward of the World Government. I grappled before dinner every night until I got here.”

  “I see. Well, good luck on the rest of your exams. You can certainly hold your own in a fight.”

  “Thanks. I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.”

  The GHS official laughed, wiping the rest of his sweat from his forehead. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ve been letting people beat on me for a while now. I’ll take you over that big fella Qek any day.”

  He wished me luck one more time before walking away, and one of the Senior Capes came over to let me know that I had ten minutes to do whatever I needed before I had to run through the obstacle course. I felt pretty good, thinking I’d made the right decision when I decided to fight before rather than after, but I needed to pop over to the bathroom before doing anything else. All of the rolling around, coupled with the blow to the stomach, had my bladder about ready to burst.

  When I came out, I saw Hilly talking with Fibre, the both of them with their backs to me as I rounded the corner of the hallway to head outside. I was feeling good after winning against the DHS official, and tried to sneak up on them both, my intent to be playful. Hilly noticed me when I began to get close, though.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I was just messing around. I’m on my way to be timed on the obstacle course now.”

  “You should be going, Ivy,” Fibre said. His tone was more serious than I’d ever heard it, so I didn’t bother to argue or say much of anything. I looked at Hilly for a moment, but she offered no reply, the look on her face echoing the command I’d been given by the Senior Cape. The bathroom was just around the corner.

  I walked away quickly when I was done in the bathroom, the sun shining hot on my face as I exited the academy. It burned my skin a little in the places where the sweat had dried. I chastised myself for not washing my face off when I was washing my hands, but when I saw the setup of the obstacle course, I realized it wouldn’t have mattered.

  The structure they’d built was a behemoth of a maze. As I understood it, the course was different each year, depending on what types of powers were present in most of the recruits. Some years, there was hardly a maze at all, especially if most of the recruits could fly. I watched one of the other recruits finish up her run as I walked over to check in with the GHS officials assigned to grade recruits on their performance.

  The obstacle course started with a climbing wall that looked to be about eighteen feet high, a pad on the ground in front of it to catch us if we fell, since there were no harnesses. There was nothing at the top of the wall, and the other side dropped off into a big pool of water that was cut in half by a divider, requiring recruits to swim underneath it after stepping in. The surface on the other side of the pool was lined with ice, with two Senior Capes constantly pouring additional buckets in as the ice melted.

  From there, I’d have to low-crawl through metal tubes that had been buried, maybe fifteen yards or so, and come up to hop over three walls, the last of which I’d have to jump to get my fingers to the top of. There was a rope swing from that wall to another one, with poles to get down from the second wall, and a nest of floating platforms to jump to high above a pond they’d dug out just for the obstacle course. These were all obstacles we’d seen before, and I wasn’t worried about them. The floating platforms were the trickiest. Some of them were older, and the units keeping them in the air sometimes faltered and dropped you no matter how lightly you landed on them.

  After the floating platforms, it was all new territory. There were three separate areas set up with people for us to save, one of them set up to mimic three rooms of a burning building, where we had to throw on a small oxygen mask before rushing in to pull the people to safety.

  The last leg of the course had me the most worried. It was a fifty-yard sprint leading to a jump over a chasm filled with mud. If I fell in, I’d have to climb out, then start the sprint over and try to make the jump again, the clock running all the while. I could feel my heart start to race as I thought of whether or not the sprint might close my airway up so much that I couldn’t push off hard enough to clear the gap, and I tried to remind myself that there was nothing I could do but try. By the time I’d managed to calm myself down, the adrenaline already pumping through my body, the GHS officials called me over and I watched as the other recruit touched down over the chasm easily, then pressed her hand on the button at the end of the course.

  And then the clock went back to zero, and they told me to start when I was ready.

  I didn’t wait for the courage to come. I was afraid it never would.

  My
hands latched onto the first two holds they could find, the adrenaline throughout my body allowing me to practically throw myself up the face of the climbing wall before my feet had a chance to find a place. As they did, I leapt with my right foot pointed at another hold, reaching out with my left hand. I caught on easily, and swung over to catch the next hold with my right hand. I thought to swing my feet up over to my right to get them onto a platform that looked like it would allow me to jump one more time and bring me to the top of the wall. I was fueled by my previous experiences climbing the wall, as it was the same one we’d seen before. Except, it wasn’t exactly the same, and looked like it had been damaged earlier in the day by another recruit. When I swung my feet up, I wasn’t aware of the missing ridges, and expected the small ledge to hold me easily.

  Instead, my foot slipped off to the side, coming out and away from the face of the wall, and I reached back out with my left hand to catch a new, closer hold. My fingers barely managed to hang on as my body swung back and forth, and my other limbs all tried their best to do their part to keep gravity from slamming me down into the padding. The muscles in my back and shoulders burned as they flexed and worked to keep me from failing the obstacle course before I’d even made it beyond the first part. I managed to eye fresh spots for my hands and feet, the familiarity of the wall allowing me to get my bearings, and I calmly ducked down to take the jump I’d wanted to only moments before—my hands catching the top of the wall just before I pulled myself up. I didn’t even bother to fully stand up before I was off the other side and diving into the pool, the water on the side without the ice feeling like it was freezing. Of course, as I swam under the wall and came up on the other side, I understood how much warmer it was on the starting side of the barrier and came up to chunks of ice on the surface. The cold shock from the pool felt nice on my taxed muscles, my back and shoulders thankful that I’d jumped so quickly.