by Leito, Chad
Not for long, Asa thought. He looked down at his own body and appreciated the drastic transformation he had made for a moment. There wasn’t an inch of skin on his body that didn’t seem to stretch over packed muscles as dense as lead. Even my hands look different, he thought, flexing them into fists.
Asa looked back to see a pack of five Fishie girls staring at him and giggling amongst each other. When he glared at them, they blushed red and pretended not to see him anymore. Have they already been told I’m a murderer? They’ve only been here a day!
Conway strode in front of the line of Fishies, leading them into the center of Town. He was tall and lean, with a sureness in his stride that was comforting. He was the man who the Academy had assigned as his “mentor” last semester, and he had been one of Asa’s father’s friends.
He might have sensed Asa staring at him, because he turned and looked at the second semester student. As usual, his face was serious and stern-looking, with heavy, concerned lines above his eyebrows. But there is something else in that look. Asa felt that Conway was trying to communicate something to him, but he didn’t know what.
Conway turned back, and continued to walk forward. For some reason, the look that Conway had given him sped up his heart rate. Asa tried to control his breathing as he walked. If Conway had tried to convey a message, there was no way that Asa could ask him about it. The man had risked his life last semester, and had made Asa more informed about the workings of the Academy than he had a right to be, by the Academy’s standards.
Maybe he didn’t intend anything by the look. He could just be tired. He sure looks it.
Conway’s hair had turned even grayer in the past month. Asa thought that with Robert King dying, the graduates were surely going through an incredibly busy time.
But still, Asa had a suspicion that he couldn’t let go that Conway had been trying to tell him something. His speculations included the idea that Teddy had suggested—that the Multipliers were going to attack at the assembly. He also wondered if the rumors were true, and there was going to be a task this year that encompassed all students in one enormous, gladiator-style fight.
But it can’t be true. It wouldn’t be fair.
The last thing that Asa considered was the possibility that Conway had been trying to communicate a good thing. Perhaps with Robert King dead, the Academy was going to disassemble.
But then why did they bring in a new batch of Fishies? And, there are still four owners of Alfatrex, even with Robert King dead. Surely they’ll find some sick way to use us.
Asa felt less and less sure with each effort to rationalize what was going on. So, finally, he switched to a different subject. Up ahead, Charlotte was walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Shashowt. Asa watched them as they moved forward into the stadium-style seating that had been put out.
He had mixed feelings about seeing them together; maybe they were just friends, but Asa thought that Shashowt had other intentions. Asa knew that he had broken off their relationship, and that he had no right to dictate who she saw. But still, the sight of Shashowt beside her made Asa grit his teeth.
Teddy gave Asa a knowing look as they passed beneath stone archways into the Town Center.
They walked up a long row of stairs with the other students moving in the same direction. The layout looked different than it had just weeks ago when they had the end of semester meeting. Asa wondered if the stone structure could somehow change shapes, or if someone actually had to re-carve it.
As Asa crested the flight of stairs leading to the meeting place, he was floored. By the faces of the other students, Asa guessed that they felt the same way. The center was beautiful. The smooth stone bleachers had been obsessively cleaned so that the intricate carvings of vines, leaves, and acorns gleamed. The marble was so white and shining that it resembled the surface of a pool of milk. The stage to which all the seats faced was covered in thick black and white striped carpet: Asa guessed that it was made entirely of artic tiger fur.
Sprinkled over every surface of the enormous Town Center were hundreds of thousands of red rose petals. They were strewn across the aisles, the seats, and the stage. At a distance, the pedals looked like large drops of blood.
Asa and Teddy made their way to the top of the steps, twenty rows above where anyone else was sitting. They had both gotten used to sitting alone: ever since Asa killed Shelby last semester, his reputation as a brute had only grown. People had also been sure to keep their distance from he and his only friend here, Teddy.
They watched as the students filled their seats. Asa noticed that the students all seemed more stoic than usual; the pedal-strewn hall was filled with the sounds of footsteps and whispering, serious voices.
For the Fishies, the reason for their mood was obvious: They were in an entirely new environment, and just as Asa had done last semester, they would probably keep their mouths shut until they knew the Academy’s customs.
As for the older classmen, Asa thought that many of them were trying to portray themselves as tough. They puffed out their chests, flexed their jaws, and tried their best to concentrate on their footsteps to be sure they wouldn’t trip. Tonight, the Winggame player draft was scheduled to begin. Because it was advantageous to be put on a good team, every interaction leading up to the draft was crucial for the players. Last semester, Asa had been selected first among the Fishies after an upper classmen noticed him flying along the mountainside. The rumor spread, and by the time the draft came, he was highly desired.
And, with the draft coming earlier this semester, the students were feeling added pressure to make every effort to impress. With lives relying on how well a team drafted, the students could be sure that someone was watching them, judging them, at all times.
Asa and Teddy sat on the pedal strewn bleachers, not talking. Asa couldn’t keep his mind from returning to the idea Teddy proposed in the dwelling.
What if now that Robert King is dead, the Multipliers want to kill you and Charlotte, and take over the Academy. Maybe they’ll want to move it—to hell with what the crows might reveal.
He looked over at Charlotte, and watched as she bent her arm behind her in a most unnatural way to scratch her back; she was only able to do this because of the mutations she had attained at the King Mountain Task last semester, which made her unnaturally flexible.
Out of the corner of his eye, Asa saw a figure break the invisible social barrier that insured no student ventured within twenty rows of Asa and Teddy. It was Jen. She wore an enormous smile on her face, and her short hair bounced up and down as she moved up the stairs. “Asa!” she shouted, waving.
Why is she coming to sit by me?
With the serious tension that filled the room of students trying to attain a position on a good Winggame team, Jen’s shout was almost offensive. Heads turned to see who had broken the silence, and to know who had uttered the murderer’s name. People threw disgusted looks at Asa, and he felt the urge to bury his head. But, he had an image to keep up; if people weren’t afraid of him, they might attack like Shelby had last year.
Teddy seemed to feel the tension too, and neither of them said a word until Jen had plopped herself down right in between them.
“And you should be Teddy,” she said, putting her hand out to shake.
Teddy looked at Asa as though for help, and then glanced down at all the dirty looks people were throwing at them. Why is she sitting with you? What are you up to? the looks seemed to say. Reluctantly, Teddy shook her hand and said, “yeah, how’d you know?”
“Do you know Meggers? She’s a graduate. Meg, I think her real name is. She’s always chewing gum.” Jen seemed to not notice the stares or the silence that now fell over the Town Center. “Anyways, she’s looking over the female Fishies’ dormitory this semester. She told me that you were friends with Asa.
“And you, Asa,” she said. She put her hand on Asa’s knee; this made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, but at the same time he felt frozen. “You never told me about your re
putation earlier in the woods.”
Charlotte was looking at Asa, displaying a mixture of anger and pain.
“Uh. I…” was all Asa could get out.
“They say that you’re a murderer, you know. I don’t believe it myself.” She picked up a red pedal and held it up beside her eye for examination. “What’s all the decoration for?”
Asa shook his head; he felt like he was unable to speak.
She tossed the petal, and it fluttered to the floor. “I’m just excited to get the semester started. I’ve heard that this place is very competitive. I mean, I’m still upset that they kidnapped me, but while I’m here, why not make the most of it? You know?”
You don’t know how deadly this place is; you’d wipe that grin from your mouth if you only knew what was to come, Asa thought. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he nodded slowly. His mouth was dry. Since Shelby’s death last year, the other students had mostly left him alone; they were afraid of him. But, if they thought that he was spending time with a newly arrived Fishie, what suspicions would they come up with? Would it be enough to make them act?
Asa felt relief wash through him as soft, but ominous music began to play into the air, distracting some of the onlookers. Asa deferred from responding to Jen by looking at the stage, where the presentation appeared to be about to begin. A thin, young Multiplier with chestnut hair was about to take the stage. Asa saw that gunmen now flanked the outer walls, sitting high above the crowd—this was normal for an assembly at the Academy, but still, seeing the weapons unnerved Asa. Robert King was nowhere to be seen; Asa wondered if other students would notice this.
The man took the stage, sauntering with a certain aggressive gleam in his eye that Asa didn’t like at all. He smiled, showing his black, shining gums. His teeth were closer to purple than white, as though he had recently secreted the black saliva that Multipliers sometimes do when they feel like killing someone.
The watching students became even more still than they were before he took the stage: Jen was the only exception to this. She brushed a hand through her hair, a carefree smile floating on her face.
Is she insane?
The man was handsome, and wearing a suit like a politician might wear—neutral tones complimented with a red tie. His hair was short and well groomed; his face was shaved clean. He looked very different from the Multipliers that Asa had encountered in the woods.
But then, he did something that contradicted his appearance: his action was brutal and chaotic.
He leapt up into the air, landed, thudded a fist to his chest, and asked the audience: “ARE WE WARRIORS!?”
No one knew what to say, and not a sound came from the crowd. A few heads turned, making sure the guns above them weren’t about to fire.
“Okay, then,” said the man on stage, scratching his chin. “You can laugh, that was a little weird.”
Nearly everyone laughed, letting out some air and then quieting up. Asa felt a bit better after the laughter, as though some of the tension had been released.
“One of the things that we will be talking about today is what the Academy is looking for in its graduates. I think that the word ‘warrior’ fits with what they are looking for. So, if when I ask that, I don’t get a resounding ‘Yes we are!’ then I think my men here should have permission to blow your heads off. Otherwise, what are we here for? We’re here to find out which of you are the best of the best. Why keep you if you aren’t even going to try?”
Jen was snickering beside Asa, as though she was watching a funny skit. Maybe she doesn’t believe him.
Again, the man on stage jumped up, banged his chest and shouted, “ARE WE WARRIORS!?”
“YES WE ARE!” said the crowd back. To Asa’s relief, Jen had participated.
“ARE WE WARRIORS!?” He asked again.
“YES WE ARE!”
“ARE WE WARRIORS!?”
“YES WE ARE!” This last cry was the loudest of all from the crowd. It was quiet for a moment, and Asa found that he was subconsciously gripping his seat; he had had bad experiences with assemblies like these; he didn’t want to see anyone die today, and the gunmen above didn’t look like they were just props.
The chestnut haired, handsome Multiplier smiled. “Excellent. My name is Chandler Martin, and we are here to talk about...” He snapped his fingers and an explosion came from the back of the stage, big and gold and loud, right behind Chandler Martin. It was only after the fact that Asa realized it had been a firework. Asa was gripping his seat harder than ever; the Multiplier had everyone’s attention; Teddy’s face was a sick shade of yellowy-pale. “…the Gill Initiative,” Chandler finished, as though no explosion had gone off.
“You see…” He snapped his fingers again, and a series of fireworks went off above the stage, red and green and blue. He smiled, and shook his head—“I love doing that.
“But, all jokes aside, this is a very important place. ARE WE READY FOR ANOTHER GREAT SEMESTER!?”
And without prompt, the crowd responded: “YES WE ARE!”
“ARE WE WARRIORS!?”
“YES WE ARE!”
Chandler snapped his fingers, and a dozen fireworks went off above their heads, many students leaned back to avoid getting shrapnel in their faces: Asa could feel the heat coming off the explosion.
“ARE WE WARRIORS!?”
“YES WE ARE!” This scream was even louder than the last, and, more than that, everyone seemed to believe it this time. Even Asa felt himself agreeing with the words. I am a warrior.
Chandler was quiet for a moment.
What is the meaning of all this? Asa thought. The way that this assembly was being conducted was extremely unnerving to Asa. He felt as though he was being brainwashed; the repetition and the screaming reminded him of the “Two Minutes Hate” in this book he had had to read in middle school about a society in the future where the government policed people’s thoughts. Teddy was beginning to look like he might vomit, or pass out. His eyes were glossed over.
“ARE WE WARRIORS!?”
“YES WE ARE!” Teddy yelled incredibly loud beside Asa.
Chandler snapped his fingers, and thirty fireworks exploded.
“ARE WE WARRIORS!?”
Asa looked at Teddy as he screamed the response along with the rest: “YES WE ARE!” His eyes flashed with a fiery intensity, and the muscles and veins on his neck bulged as he roared the words with all his might. When he was done yelling, Teddy was breathing hard and blood was beginning to run out of his nose.
Asa felt as though Chandler Martin had completely changed the mood in the center; somehow, the group of students having to obey the intermittent screams, mixed with the explosions had made them feel a reverence for this man whom many of them had never met.
“Whew! That feels great! Let’s get down to business.
“The reason you have been called here today is so that we can talk a bit about our expectations, celebrate the fact that we belong to one of the best organizations in the world, and let you know a bit about what to expect. I know that the Fishies had their individual Assembly earlier, and that they’ve been sitting for a while, but just stay with me.”
Chandler walked from the left side of the stage to the right; he then raised his hand into the air, and a screen levitated out of the stage. Asa wondered if magnets were used to suspend the object.
The words “THE GILL INITIATIVE” were displayed on the screen.
“The Gill Initiative,” he said, “was proposed by one of our owners, Dr. Gene Gill, as a new and exciting way to run the Academy: It’s a whole new way of looking at this education process. Dr. Gill is in the front seat, so why don’t we all give him a hand?”
The response from the crowd was completely out of proportion from the request: a thunderous applause swept over the audience; Teddy screamed and cheered, his face even paler than before; his nose was now gushing blood.
A white haired man in the front seat, whom Asa assumed was Dr. Gill, raised a hand in acknowledgement an
d thanks.
When the crowd died down a bit, Chandler Martin continued on. “You see, the Academy hasn’t been pleased with some of its recent graduates. And so the owners sat down and tackled the question—what needs to be changed?”
Asa shifted a bit in his seat, anxious to hear what would come next. This has to be connected with Robert King’s death. Maybe this Gene Gill guy is taking over for him. It’s too much of a coincidence that The Boss was murdered, and now we have a meeting where they explain that protocol is changing.
A new slide came into focus on the screen: this one was of a small wooden box with the word “SUGGESTIONS” carved into the front.
“The first thing, is that we want more feedback from you: After all, you are in line to become a valuable part of this organization. This is the most impressive, most exciting organization in the world, and we want your input.
“More so than that, we want you to be happy. Can I have the next slide please?”
The picture on stage changed instantly. As Asa looked at it, he felt blood rush into his cheeks, making them feel hot. The image was of a large, ballroom dance that had never happened. The room was lit with glistening chandeliers. A full orchestra was playing music, dressed in formal black. The dance floor was filled with smiling, happy Academy students in tuxedoes and elegant dresses. In the center of the room, the image showed Asa dancing with Charlotte. Her hair was fixed up and out of her face, and her smoky eye shadow matched her dress. Asa was smiling too, holding her right hand with his left; his right hand was around her waist. They were surrounded by others who were dancing too. Near the bottom of the screen, Asa saw Teddy dancing with Samantha, who had died last year in the King Mountain Task.
Asa was deeply disturbed. They photoshopped images of us all dancing together? Why didn’t they take out the dead people? I guess that our lives aren’t important enough for them to keep track of who they’ve now killed.
“We are going to have events to show appreciation for you, our students! This includes dances, and some surprises.” Chandler Martin winked.
The next slide came onto the screen: this one had a picture of an Academy graduate whom Asa had never seen before. He wore a sleek black suit, and was handing a plate of hot food to a barefoot, malnourished black child. The dead grass, flat plains, and red dirt made Asa assume that the picture was taken somewhere in Africa.
