“You walk in darkness today,” she says as if it’s the most ordinary statement in the world.
Moving closer to the windows, I rub the heel of my palm into my eyes. “Been a long day.”
“Life takes us on a current that rages and flows. Fight the course and find yourself in darkness.”
I sigh, searching the night sky for the moon while stuffing my hands in the pockets of my scrubs. Absently, I lean a shoulder against the window. Fight the course of the raging current… If only she knew. Or maybe she does. My gaze draws back to her. The lights from the city illuminate her pale skin. Skyscrapers and flashing billboards making the colors on her face shift from blue hues to red, purple. Something about this place affects Celeste. From where she’s perched on the bed, her eyes are dull, and her hair wild.
“What do you see out there tonight, Celeste?” I ask, looking back out the window.
Bare feet pad against the swirling mosaic rug on her floor. Then she stands beside me, one hand pressed to the glass, gazing up at stars I can’t see. When she stands close to the window like this, the color slowly returns to her skin. Her eyes become a vibrant shade of green. Even though her hair is unkempt, it shines brighter the longer she stands close to the window—like the cosmos breathes life into her.
“Cassiopeia will fall from her throne.” Celeste traces a finger across the glass. “Andromeda’s chains are breaking. The sea will part, and the hero and the stag will ride in for liberation.” Her finger slides down the window, leaving a smudge, and I can see the creases at the edge of her mouth. “He’s still so far away…”
A rare few Divinics have the Power to read the stars. But Celeste seems more in tune with the cosmos than any other I’ve met. So far, I’ve discerned that Celeste can read auras and the cosmos. What else can she do? Somehow, I can tell she is capable of amazing things, but her isolation prevents her from genuinely showcasing her Powers.
The more time I spend with Celeste, the more I connect with her. Like a sister. I yearn to set her free.
“Paternal bonds always tie. The day will come soon,” Celeste says. “They will shelter you from the storm.”
I pull my gaze away from the city to find Celeste’s eyes locked on me. Well, not really on me, but around me. She’s reading me again. At first, I found it unnerving, as if I couldn’t have any secrets from her. Now, I don’t care. It’s comforting to be able to talk to someone without fear of being judged.
A weak smile curls the corner of my lips, but it fades when I see the way her face scrunches up as she looks around me. The way she bites her lip and how her chest heaves as she shudders a breath.
“I’m sorry, Ugene,” she says in that soft voice. “All things are conditional. Even when the light breaks through the darkness, the darkness fights back.” Everything inside of me presses together as fear strikes. “Choices must be made.”
“A choice? What sort of—?”
Celeste shakes her head and returns to her bed, pulling blankets up to her chest and leaning back against the wall.
Whether she won’t tell me or can’t, her statement makes her dissolve into a ball of anxiety. I try to press for more, but no words will come out. I can’t even begin to fathom what sort of choice I will have to make. Or is it even my choice? All is consumed by that now-familiar sickening twist in my gut.
We fall silent, looking out the window at the stars. I can’t see them as Celeste can. All I can think of is a choice, one that won’t be on my terms. Then, something from a previous test bubbles up to the surface.
“Celeste,” I turn to her, arms crossed over my chest. Beside the bed, the jar of candies catches my eye, and a sudden craving for them hits. “During my Aurology test a few days ago, they were talking about my aura as if it were a blinding light.”
Celeste cocks her head to the side like a bird. She nods.
“What does it mean?”
Her lack of response quickens my breath. The cold of the window seeps through my shirt and into my shoulder.
I push off and step toward her. “Please, anything you can offer would help.”
“Aurology is an unpredictable river,” Celeste finally says, looking over my shoulder, reading my aura. Her knees are drawn up toward her chest under the blanket. “Understanding meanings doesn’t mean understanding.”
My head spins. “What?”
“Your bed is calling you,” Celeste says, still looking over my shoulder. Is she reading me or looking at the sky?
I’m not ready to go, but when I open my mouth to protest, a yawn rolls out. Asking her more about it now is pointless.
Celeste’s focus isn’t on me anymore, but on the stars beyond her window.
Lockdown warning sounds overhead.
I stifle another yawn with the back of my hand, then trudge over to the door, bidding Celeste goodnight. I can’t take any more riddles tonight.
“Copper is like a penny. Pick it up and keep good luck,” she says as I open the door. “Your fates dance together like the sun and moon.”
This pauses me halfway through the door, but, after biting my lip, I slip out and close the door behind me.
The hour is late, and lockdown is only minutes away, which doesn’t give me much time to get back to my room. Some of the doors are already closed tight. Everything is silent, which makes the sudden sound of someone else’s shoes against the tiled floor sound even louder. I pull up short, holding my breath afraid that security will strongarm me back to my room for lockdown, then turn and prepare for the worst.
But it’s Miller. He stands five feet away, hands in his pockets, scowling at me.
“What?” I ask, trying to catch my breath, hand against my pounding heart.
“Don’t ask questions.”
“But I didn’t…” The rest of the sentence just falls off when I see the scowl on his face.
“Follow the rules, kid,” Miller says.
“What happens if I don’t?”
“You don’t want to find out.”
I half turn, wondering if I should follow him. Preservation gets the better of me, and I stick to my initial course of action.
After lockdown, I sit back in my chair and run my fingers through my hair, lacing them together behind my head as I stare at the pages spread out before me. A map of people and their Power, but I have no idea how strong any of those Powers are. The answer is itching at the edge of my mind, but I can’t seem to grasp it. Maybe if I understand precisely why I’m here, I can glean some sort of answer.
Dr. Cass called me the key to unlocking the secrets of the genes that trigger Powers. If that’s part of my purpose, what role do the other test subjects serve? Were they told the same as me? And what about Miller?
I need more clues. The answers are here, and I’m an idiot for not recognizing them. I’m almost there, so close the frustration makes it hard to sleep as my mind races.
~~~
For the next few days, I have dinner in the cafeteria and take the same notes, observing changes in others to see if there could be any other potential disappearances. Then I go back to my room and compare the new notes to all my previous ones.
Occasionally, Forrest will enter and take a test subject with him. Every time he comes, the room falls silent as if everyone hopes not to be noticed.
I flip back through my notes and review them as Forrest and the test subject walk off, comparing all the notes again. Vicki hasn’t returned, nor has the girl who left with Forrest just two days ago. The other two girls who sat with her are abnormally quiet. What are they hiding? I have a sickening feeling that nothing good happens to those who leave with Forrest.
Others are quieter as well, staring at nothing for long periods, flinching when anyone comes too close. Those who once sat with a friend or two now come early and disappear. As if they’re ashamed or exiled.
I understand how they feel.
Sleep pulls at me, and I gather my things and head back to my room. I used to love going to bed. It was my favorite par
t of the day, laying my head on my cool pillow and drifting off. Now I approach the end of the night with a sense of dread. Nightmares plague my sleep, along with the knowledge that when my eyes open, I will have to comply with yet another test. But sleep is natural, and even if I wanted to fight it, I can’t. It claims us all.
I fight it off, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes while rounding a corner. The small group gathered outside my door pulls me up short. For a moment, I think it’s exhaustion making me see things, but after a moment it’s clear. I know every last one of them—and not from this place.
“Ugene.” Mo’s face lights up, and he smacks Leo on the shoulder. “I told you it was him.”
Leo’s bushy brows drop down over his eyes as he winces and rubs his arm.
Three of my former classmates and one girl a year ahead of us cluster together, staring at me. I open my mouth to ask what they’re all doing here, but I already know the answer. Proposition 8.5.
Mo’s rank was below the thirty percent mark. Leo and Dave barely came out the other side of Testing Day, so it’s probably safe to assume their ranks were just as low. And the girl. I can’t recall anything more than her heart-shaped face and big nose, but if she’s with them, it’s probably for the same reason.
Mo takes a few steps closer. “I told Leo I saw you come out of this room a couple times, but none of them believed me. But it only makes sense, right? I mean, if we’re forced to be here, you would be, too.”
Time to tell the truth, I suppose. I close the distance between us, clutching my notebook to my chest. “I, um, I volunteered, actually.”
The girl’s eyes widen unnaturally. “Why?”
“Well, I was told my participation would help people like you guys,” I say. “You know, stop the regression.”
“And?” Dave looks hopeful.
I hate to dash his hope, but I shake my head.
His shoulders slump.
“Can we talk?” Mo asks, stepping toward my doorway.
I jump in his path, blocking the door with one arm, and shake my head. “Not in there.”
To my knowledge, Overwatch doesn’t listen in the hallways, though I have no doubt Paragon can see everything in the halls. The cafeteria is good for conversation when it’s full and noisy, but not this late at night. There’s only one place on the floor I suspect Overwatch doesn’t have eyes and ears—at least I hope not. I nod down the hall for them to follow and we head toward the bathroom.
Bright lights blink on overhead as I step through the door. The girl—who I learn is named Trina—stops in the doorway, but I reassure her it’s okay. We’re just talking.
“What’s going on out there?” I ask as soon as the door is closed. “I heard the Proposition was passed, and there’s been a surge of test subjects since then.”
“It’s horrible.” Leo pales as he speaks. “The cops came to my house to bring me in for testing. My parents refused, tried to fight them off while I ran, but they caught me in the alley.” He wrings his hands anxiously. “I don’t know what happened to them.”
“Same type of thing for everyone,” Mo says. “The cops are rounding up people with regressed Powers, citing Proposition 8.5, and forcing us into rooms here to do this testing.”
“The tests are horrible,” Trina interrupts, her lips curling up to show her disgust. “How did you survive them so long?” The “you” is like a stab of disgust.
“They need me,” I shrug. “But it hasn’t been easy, either.”
“They’re starting with kids our age,” Mo continues. “And a group of protesters has been acting out against the Directorate in response, but the media is sweeping all the accusations under the rug, excusing them away. Anyone not affected by the Proposition won’t believe us.”
I let out a breath as I listen to them. If I’m really the key to stopping this, I need to make sure Dr. Cass locks that door—soon. I don’t want anyone else to have to suffer through these tests. Paragon is using the Directorate to get what they want—the answers to regression. And something else. Something more that I still can’t quite wrap my head around. I chew my lip as I mull it over.
“What are you thinking?” Dave asks. “I’ve seen you scrunch up your face like that right before you spout off one of your brilliant ideas.”
Really? I look up at Dave with those hopeful brown eyes. He really thinks I’ll come up with an answer.
“I mean, if we could get out of here—” I start to say.
“Let’s do that!” Leo pipes in eagerly.
I shake my head. “It’s not that easy. Everything here is set up to lock us in.”
All four of them deflate, then Dave waves us off and heads to the door. “Never mind. He’s no good to us.”
Leo hesitates, half turned toward me, then follows Dave out. Mo stares at me like he’s willing me to say something different. Instead, he just looks disappointed as he says, “I hoped you might know something to help us.” Then, he follows the other two out.
Trina lingers a moment in front of me, and her cold hand touches my shoulder. “I have faith in you. They told me how smart you are. If we don’t have Powers to get out of this mess, we need brains.” She squeezes my shoulder and leaves me alone as Overwatch warns that lockdown is coming.
What do they think I can do?
21
Chaos in the cafeteria.
After Overwatch woke me this morning, I noticed she didn’t warn me about testing times. Thinking I had the day off, I headed to the cafeteria for breakfast, then planned on returning to my room for much-needed sleep.
But what greets me makes me rethink my whole strategy.
I stand just inside the cafeteria doorway before a room crowded with test subjects. Dozens of them. Maybe edging near a hundred. Certainly, more than I’ve ever encountered at once.
Everyone is dressed for the day—some in street clothes and some in scrubs—and all the veteran subjects have some sort of backpack slung over their shoulders. They shove at each other, a mass of elbows and shoulders like people trying to escape a crisis. Except no crisis exists. Many of the weaker subjects are pushed away from the commotion while the newer recruits—like myself—hang back near the doorway or along the walls.
Near the Snackables machine, Terry watches with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze meets mine, and something about the look on his face is satisfied as if he’s been waiting for this moment and now knows a dark secret.
A fight breaks out between two Somatics over an overstuffed backpack. The bag spills out on the floor in the scuffle. Protein bars, bread rolls, dried meats, packaged water pouches. The taller one kicks the other down, then stomps his stomach. And a sinking fear hits my gut.
They all know what’s coming.
And I don’t.
I catch a glimpse of the tables through the mass, just for a moment. Just long enough to see the mad wrestling for food and water.
“Ugene.” Miller rushes toward me. Another test subject grabs the strap of his bag and yanks, but Miller elbows the boy in the face. The boy stumbles back, holding his nose. “Grab everything you can.”
“Why?” Panic clenches my throat.
“Just trust me. When it starts, head east and find me at the building with the bird wall.”
Before I can ask what he’s talking about, Miller jogs out of the cafeteria with his bag and disappears around the corner in the hallway.
I step forward when a hand clamps around my arm and pulls me back. I jump, jerking back, then immediately feel ashamed as I realize it’s Trina.
“Ugene, what’s going on?” The fear in her eyes is genuine.
I shake my head, unsure what to say. Are we leaving Paragon?
“Tell the others to grab what they can,” I say, unsure what else to do. I then tell her the same thing Miller told me. Hopefully we can all find each other, wherever we are headed. Without another word, I rush back to my room for my messenger bag.
Other test subjects are running through the halls, clinging
to their bags or their rations with desperation etched on their faces. I spot Enid disappearing around a corner toward her room and am tempted to follow, but I need rations if anything remains. I can’t follow her.
By the time I return to the cafeteria, the veterans have disappeared. I elbow my way into the chaos. More than thirty other subjects uncertainly tug at what remains, which isn’t much. Not nearly enough for all of us. Each of us reaches for something before it’s gone. Judging by the looks on their faces, they are just as uncertain as me as to the reasons we need these supplies in the first place. I grab some water and protein at the very least before fading back. My bag is far from stocked, but something is better than nothing.
I return to my room with my bounty and sit on the edge of my bed, waiting, though I don’t know for what. Miller’s urgency made my stomach clench. It hits me that I didn’t get any food from the machines. Why? As I stand to head back to the cafeteria, I realize that no one did. Not even the veteran subjects.
I freeze, steady my breathing, and look around the room. By instinct, I grab my notebooks and stuff them into the bag strapped across my chest along with the meager supply of food. Without thinking, I strip the bed of sheets and pack those, too.
“Five minutes until lockdown.”
Lockdown? Overwatch didn’t say anything about it earlier. After a moment of hesitation chewing at my bottom lip, my feet carry me out of the room, my loafers pounding on the tiled floor as I run to the bathroom. I stuff an extra set of clothes from the bathroom into my bag, then set off for the cafeteria.
The chaos has ended. The room is abandoned. Only toppled tables and chairs show signs of what happened here today.
“Two minutes until lockdown.”
I head to the Snackables machine and make a selection, then swipe my wrist. While the machine prepares it, I do the same at the Drinkables, sticking with water. As I wait, the seconds seem to drag on. I shuffle from one foot to the next, glancing over my shoulder occasionally to see if anyone else is coming.
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