“Brilliant!” I skip a few steps closer, excitement balling my chest. “Do they have any idea?”
“Of course they do,” he says, scoffing. “That’s why they brought me on.”
“Right. Of course.” I shake my head.
Miller clearly doesn’t get it. He isn’t just special. To create lightning that came out of a person instead of going in would take far more Divinic Power than borderline. Someone at Paragon must know this. I wonder what his rank on the Cass Scale is.
“Have you always been borderline?” Feeling dizzy—either from the healing or excitement—I sit on my bed, the cotton sheets pressing into the tips of my fingers as I grip the edge. Bianca comes to my side to check on me, but my mind is reeling, trying to process the new information. I only notice her joining me by the proximity of her warmth and the citrus smell.
“No.” Miller rubs a hand over his face and glances toward the open door as if considering an exit. “There was an accident.” Lines of pain cross his face, and he looks anywhere but in our direction. There’s silence. Whatever the accident was, he doesn’t want to talk about it.
“And you’ve been able to do this since?”
“Yeah. Some freak event. Paragon tried to recruit me a couple years ago on Career Day. I refused.” Miller licks his lips, then teeth. “The new Power went out of control at work a few weeks later. Nearly killed someone. I knew I needed help, so I reached out to Paragon. Been here ever since.”
I stare at Miller with newfound respect.
“At first, I was here to try and find a way to keep from killing anyone on accident.” Miller swallowed so hard I could see the large lump in his throat. “They helped me figure out how to control it, to some degree. But it’s still… unpredictable. They promised to find a way to control it or get rid of it. Maybe use it to help others. Eventually, they decided to keep me to enhance their research. Imagine being able to give others a second Power. That sort of knowledge…”
I open my mouth to finish the sentence for him, but Miller presses a finger to his lips and looks around the room. Overwatch.
Silence settles over the room. Bianca shifts beside me and the warmth of her proximity is only slightly distracting. Does either of them understand? Miller can not only show Paragon how each identifying marker for Powers works, but how they work together. They can learn to control who has what Power with that kind of knowledge. Or how to give that Power to someone else—like me. And all it takes is the right mind to unlock Miller’s genetic code.
Dr. Joyce Cass.
Something Dr. Cass said during our meeting comes back, and I chew my lip in excitement.
You could be the key to unlocking the genes that trigger abilities.
If I’m the key, the lock is standing right in front of me. Miller is my solution, my cure.
Bianca stands and moves toward the door. The bed feels colder. For a moment she pauses in the doorway, giving me a curious glance, then disappears into the hall. What’s she thinking?
“She’s an odd one to fancy,” Miller says.
My thoughts distract me too much to respond. “Miller, don’t…” I glance around the room, then stand too fast to go to him. The world dims, and I grab the cool wall to keep from falling over, sliding along it toward him. My voice is as low as I can whisper while making sure he hears me. I’m not certain why, but I don’t want Paragon to follow my thinking just yet. “Don’t skimp on your tests.”
“Why?” Miller whispers.
“Just… trust me. Please.”
Miller nods, but his expression is uncertain.
“And hey!” I call out as he steps into the hall. “If you need to talk about what happened, either the accident or whatever, I’m here.”
Miller hesitates, looking pensive. He runs his hands through his shaggy blond hair, taps at the metal frame of the door with his palm, mumbles something to himself, and is gone.
If I’m right, and Miller and I are the keys, all the test subjects play into this somehow. But I need more time to find the answers.
18
Rest has become elusive. I can’t stop thinking about the conversation with Miller and Bianca—about what Paragon could be doing here. There’s still nearly an hour until lockdown, so I opt for a shower.
For a while, I just stand there and let hot water roll down tense, sore muscles in my back. The hot water feels incredible, easing away all the aches and pains, rinsing off the foamy lather of musk-scented shampoo. Then, the water unexpectedly grows warmer.
Before it’s too late.
The voice is familiar, echoing off the tile walls. My slick fingers linger on the knob. No. Not off the tiles. It’s in my head. And it isn’t mine.
The stalls are enclosed on all sides, with a bleached white curtain to close the space off, yet I don’t feel alone. Nakedness and the voice fill me with twisting vulnerability.
My hand slips off the knob, and I inch toward the curtain. It flutters. I jerk back.
I have to— A girl’s voice.
A shower turns on across the narrow passage. Is she in the bathroom? A door thumps closed.
I wipe the excess water off my face. It’s all my imagination. I’m being ridiculous.
Using practiced, measured breaths, the tension melts from my shoulders. I turn off the water and reach through the curtain to grab my towel.
It’s gone.
I peek out. The towel and my clothes are on the floor a couple of feet from the bench—the cloth is wet. The only sound in the room is that of the other shower. I peer up the aisle between stalls, making sure I’m alone before stepping out and grabbing my clothes. What other choice do I have? I don the garments without toweling off, slip on my flip-flops, and take my shower caddy from the stall. The experience leaves me uneasy, craving the false security of my room.
As I pass the cafeteria, water dripping in my wake, I get the same feeling someone is watching me. No one is, but I can’t shake it. My jaw twitches.
Irrational. I’m being irrational.
All the same, my pace quickens back to my room. The click of the door closing behind me offers little reassurance.
Once I reach the false security of my room, I slip into my jeans and flannel shirt for dinner.
Before I open the door to my room, a scream rips through my head.
No. No! No no no!
My stomach lurches. The scream breaks the silence, echoing up the hallway.
A real scream.
I throw open the door and head in the direction it came from, away from the cafeteria. At the end of the hall, I wait to hear something more. Heavy breaths heave my chest, making my ribs ache. My pulse quickens the longer I stand there. Another test subject passes me, giving me a funny look as she heads toward the cafeteria.
“Did you hear that?” I ask her.
Her brows pull together, and she shakes her head and continues.
Closed doors, empty halls—everything appears normal.
Silence.
It’s nothing, right? Maybe it was just in my head again. Maybe all this Somatic testing has loosened a bolt or two. Or maybe Derrek hit me too hard in the head. It’s nothing…
Yet, I’m compelled onward until I’m standing in front of room 1126. Jade’s room. The door is shut.
I raise my fist to knock but hesitate. Miller warned me not to knock, and I’ve been superb at ignoring his advice. But something tells me this is different. That I should actually listen to him. Instead of knocking, I rest my palms against the door and press my ear flat to the metal.
Nothing.
I’m going crazy. That’s the only explanation. I step back, a breath rushing through my lips.
Just open the door.
The knob turns without challenge, and I creep the door open slowly. Silence.
The first thing I notice is the blankets on the floor. The desk is shoved haphazardly into the middle of the room. The mattress is askew, the corner hanging precariously off the frame.
“What the hell?” I mutter, stepping in.
“Hello? Jade?”
Nothing.
A few more steps reveal more signs of a struggle. Books strewn about the floor. A clay pot fragmented everywhere.
But no Jade.
The silence makes my pulse race. Did another test subject attack her? That was her voice I heard in my head. It had to be. And if it was, she knew this was coming.
I rush back out into the hallway, hoping for clues to help the poor girl.
But there’s nothing.
Like an idiot, I can’t help hoping. So, I follow the hallway in the opposite direction from which I came. At a fork in the hall, I glance in both directions, then choose left and jog to the next intersection, the muscles in my calves burning in protest. There’s only one way to go from here. Even as I turn up the next hallway, I hear the elevator doors slide shut.
In moments I’m standing there, watching every direction and finding nothing.
What happened to Jade?
Turning this way and that through the halls, I seek answers and find nothing except a busy cafeteria.
And still no Jade.
No more voices. No screaming.
Everything is just… ordinary.
19
The days start blurring together. One test after another, all pushing me to my limits physically and mentally. It’s far more exhausting than I expect. Lift this. Change that. Read those. None of it bears any fruit, but Forrest hasn’t lost interest in the work, nor does he have any interest in striking up a conversation with me. Any time I try, the simulation cuts off, and he’s gone. It doesn’t take long for me to realize why all the other test subjects appear so exhausted all the time.
I’m going stir crazy.
The security doesn’t help. I’ve stumbled across Paragon guards ushering test subjects toward their rooms when they have not complied with compulsory participation—and always less than gently. One girl tried to resist, but the guard grabbed her arm and thrust her through her doorway. Her door clanged shut as she screamed. The memory haunts my sleep.
Every morning is the same. The alarm sounds once, startling me awake. Overwatch announces the same thing she does every day. Then the doors unbolt and swing open, and test subjects shamble like a blind herd toward the cafeteria. Testing begins. By evening, those who completed their test shuffle to the cafeteria again for dinner before lockdown. I’ve avoided Terry and Derrek since that first week. Whatever Jade thought was a danger to me, I have no intention of finding out.
Once a week, Forrest takes me into a special room on our floor to collect necessary samples. It’s never pleasant. Needles and skin samples. Blood, plasma, and sometimes bone marrow. Every time it reminds me of that test with Michael.
I just have to remind myself why I’m here. Every day gives Dad another day of medical attention he needs. Occasionally, I do consider whether or not Dr. Cass is holding up her end of the deal, but lingering on these thoughts will drive me mad. I just have to trust her.
The tension in the cafeteria gets thicker every day—and sometimes it feels like it’s directed at me. It’s the way they look at me. Especially Terry. Like he’s trying to read me. It’s the way some of them don’t look at me. The way they whisper to each other. The edges of their whispers brush my ears every day, but I can never grasp what they’re saying. Sometimes they sound like my name, but I could just be going a little crazy. It probably wouldn’t be such a stretch to believe I’m imagining things.
Despite the tension, my group of companions grows slowly. There’s Sho—a boy with dark spikey-hair, Divinic Psychic Navigation, and eyes that tilt toward the bridge of his nose—who participated on a maze test with me. His mapping ability is minimal, but it helped us find our way out of the dangerous maze. The morning after our test, we saw each other at breakfast and struck up a conversation. He’s nineteen and has been in Paragon for three years and doesn’t think he will ever get out. Even Michael has taken to sitting at our table during breakfast, though he never speaks or looks at any of us and always stays as far from me as possible.
Tonight, the cafeteria’s lights are overly bright, forcing me to squint as I make my selections for dinner. Meatloaf with roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables from the Hot-Serve machine, milk from the Drinkables. Once I have a tray full of food, I seek out a seat in the corner. I sit with my dinner and my notebook alone, watching.
Everyone is hushed again, as usual. A few of the other test subjects occupy the round tables. Some are in Paragon-issued scrubs. Others are in street clothes. I have yet to find out why some get away with street clothes. I have mine back, but the scrubs seem to be a requirement for testing. Maybe street clothes are for days off.
I’ve started taking notes on who comes and goes from the cafeteria. Not just trying to see who is talking to whom or if I can hear anything—though I am—I’m looking for little ticks. How long does any one person stare at the wall without doing anything? Has anyone been behaving differently? I’m not really sure what exactly I’m looking for, but Dr. Cass said it herself. Wisdom is a moral duty, and something about what’s going on at Paragon has started feeling off. Inhumane. Immoral. The answers are in front of me. I know it. I just can’t see it.
While I write notes and chew juicy, savory meatloaf, a hush falls over the room. I look up in time to see Vicki dragging her feet as she follows Forrest along the hallway, past the cafeteria. Vicki and I made fast friends in our Psionic Telekinesis test, but she doesn’t sit with me. She never sits with anyone.
All eyes in the room are downcast at the tables. Not one person dares to look up like I do. I stand, palms pressed to the tabletop, but have no idea what to say or do. I don’t understand what just happened. A moment after Forrest and Vicki are gone, everyone resumes their dinner and whispered conversations. Forrest is collecting Vicki for some purpose. I should follow. Maybe it will lead me to Jade as well. I’m still not sure what happened to her.
Decided, I take a step around my chair, focused on the doorway.
A tray slides onto the table across from me, stopping me before I’ve taken more than a step. A familiar girl sits in the empty chair across from me. Her long, dark hair cascades around her face, momentarily blocking it from sight.
I peer closer, and my breath catches.
“Enid.” She’s real! Relief sags my shoulders.
“You’re a hard guy to find,” Enid says under her breath. Her eyes dart around the room, peering through strands of black hair.
“Likewise.” Does this mean Boyd is real, too? I can only hope. But where is he? “But… can you wait a bit? I just need to do something.”
Enid follows my gaze to the door and shakes her head. “Don’t follow them. People who leave with Dr. Pond don’t come back.”
Her words seize my heart. Vicki…
“What do you mean?”
“Testing out, I think.” But Enid doesn’t appear convinced. She waves at my chair with her fork. “Just sit and eat, Ugene.”
But I want to follow, find out where they are going. Could Vicki really be tested out? That still doesn’t explain what happened to Jade. Against my better judgment, I sink into the empty chair.
Enid leans over her meatloaf, poking at it and keeping her voice to a whisper. “Did you hear the news?”
I shake my head. I’ve been too absorbed in my own studies to know what she’s talking about.
“It passed.”
“What?”
Enid shoves a hunk of meat into her mouth and chews it like she hasn’t eaten in days. Maybe she hasn’t.
“Proposition 8.5,” she says through a mouthful of meat. “With an overwhelming majority.”
I’ve been too distracted. With everything going on in here, I completely forgot about the world outside these walls. And about Proposition 8.5. Now the Directorate has the right to force people in the bottom third of ranking to go through testing again. I hated testing, but it wasn’t as bad as what we suffer through here. My back stiffens.
“It’s for the best, right?”
I ask. It’s what I thought when I first heard about it, but do I still feel the same? Could additional testing really help stop regression? I thought I was the key Dr. Cass needed. Maybe I’m failing.
Enid gives me a flat stare, pausing with her fork of potatoes halfway to her mouth. “Look around you,” she hisses. “It’s already started.”
I close my notebook and look around the cafeteria. So many test subjects are on this floor that I rarely see many of them at once, and I don’t know all of their faces. Just the few that I see regularly. Typically, about four or five tables are occupied during dinner. But then I notice it. Ten. Ten tables are nearly full. I flip through my notes and see that I’ve been taking note of more people each night for the past week, but the reason never occurred to me. People who fall under the purview of Proposition 8.5 aren’t just being tested again.
Paragon is forcing them through this testing against their will.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask.
“Because you helped me.” Enid nods at my notebook. “So, I’m helping you. Brains. Remember?”
My Power, according to Enid. I open my mouth, but Enid just shakes her head and glances at the ceiling. At the invisible ears of Overwatch. Something Celeste said makes so much sense. The walls are always listening.
Enid slides a piece of paper to me, and I unfold it. I read her name with a room number, along with Boyd’s. It’s all too much, the frenzy of questions indecipherable, making my head spin.
Time. I need time to process all of this. Time and a clear space to think. And I know just the place.
20
When I knock on Celeste's door, she doesn’t open right away. I wring my hands, wondering what time it is. Maybe she’s asleep. Just as I’m about to give up, the door opens a crack. It’s all she ever gives me. I slip inside and push it closed until I hear it butt against the doorframe.
Celeste’s room is dark, as it always is at night. She prefers the light from the world outside over the lamp. The sheets on the bed are in disarray, and she sits atop them in her black cotton matching pajama top and pants. The buttons on the top are one-off, leaving the lapel resting at an odd angle. Celeste doesn’t seem to notice. Her gaze is on the night sky.
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