by Miria Masdan
I look to the floor and straighten my mouth. “I’m not.”
I need to stop thinking about him. I need to concentrate on my task. I can afford to mess this up, not now that I have found him. I concentrate on my breathing again. I think about the punishments.
A few years ago there was a boy in our class. He was normal one day and then all of a sudden he started acting unusual. He looked at everyone and everything. He talked out of turn and did not conform to the laws. I heard they tried to fix him. But it is impossible to fix someone, once they are broken. He had received a virus that destroyed his system and no one ever saw or heard from him again. Of course, there were rumors that they destroyed him, or even worse they disengaged and deprogrammed him and sent him to the wastelands, outside the borders.
I wonder if that is what happened to me. Did a virus destroy my system? It could be me if I weren't smart enough to conceal my problem. I could be lost out in the wastelands. Will I be able to maintain myself for the rest of my life? My concern has been making it to graduation; I hadn’t thought about what happens next?
I think about, Adam. He said he would take care of me but what if he finds out that I’m broken? Will he turn me in, or will he still want to marry me? What am I thinking; he won’t want to marry me. I don’t think he’d even have a choice; he’d have to turn me in. What if I end up like the boy, banished to the wastelands? But the real question is, do I even want to marry him?
I look at Quinn. I can feel a ripple spread across my chest and down to my stomach. I’ve finally found him, and I am not letting him go. I don’t want to marry Adam. Even if it is a single moment, I want Quinn.
We enter the banquet hall. Quinn speaks with the officers and makes sure they are completing their tasks. I look around the room. There are laborers setting the tables, and arranging decorations. Seven double, glass doors line the back wall, and the sun is shining into the room. I walk over and look out at the fields. The sun is deceivingly warm; frost covers the fields. I’m lost in thought when movement by the tree line catches my attention. I squint. A few moments later a figure darts out and runs across the upper field and into the opposite woods. I watch them until they disappear. I look over my shoulder towards Quinn.
He looks at me, and then his eyes move to the kitchen entrance. I look. A man walks towards me. I don’t recognize him. He stops and looks me up and down.
“What are you doing here,” he asks? He grabs my arm and starts to drag me with him.
I don’t say a word. I look at Quinn. He’s already halfway across the room, heading straight for us.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the man whispers. “It’s not safe.”
“No,” I say.
“Let her go,” says Quinn.
The man stops and looks at Quinn. He doesn’t seem impressed. “Your rank, officer,” his voice is sharp and loud.
“Captain Calder,” he says. “This intern is my responsibility. She is to assist me in the preparations.”
“She is not eligible for extra assignments,” the man says.
“By whose order,” asks Quinn?
“A special request by Atticus Benson,” he replies.
Quinn looks at me. He is obviously confused. “I am in charge of the events security, and I was not made aware of any special request.”
“Can I speak to Adam,” I say. “I’m sure he will be okay with the situation.”
The man glares at me. “Speaking out of turn, to a superior?”
“I will need a confirmation of the order before I let you interfere with my schedule,” says Quinn. “I need an assistant, and I don’t have time to screen another intern.”
“This is ridiculous,” the man shouts. “I will be back.”
He lets me go. He storms out of the room. I look at Quinn; he’s smiling.
“We need to get out of here before he comes back,” he says.
I follow him to the forum. We enter through the stage door and head to an office. He closes the door behind us, but he doesn’t lock it. He looks at me for a moment; arms crossed and twisting his chin in his hand.
“What is it,” I ask?
“Benson,” he says. “Your proctor is Adam Benson.”
“Yes,” I say.
“What did he do to you this morning,” he asks?
“Nothing,” I say. I can feel the panic swell again. I go through all of my calming mechanisms in my mind: breathe and find my happy place.
“Okay,” he says. “What are your plans for tonight?”
“I’m attending the reception downtown,” I say, “beyond that I have no plans. I’m not sure how I will react to the heightening.”
“Most interns start with that plan,” he says. “It will change. There will be parties all over the city. It’s a lot to take in, in one night.”
“What did you do,” I ask?
“I don’t remember much,” he says. “I started at the reception, but I didn’t end up there. You won’t be alone, will you?”
“I’m going with my friends,” I say.
“Don’t trust anyone,” he says. “Just keep yourself safe.”
Is he worried about me? I’m intrigued. I want to wrap myself around him and tell him everything I remember about him. But what excites me the most, are all the things I don’t remember. I want to know more. I want to know if he recognizes me. Is he holding back, or is he clueless about us.
“Did you know that man,” he asks?
“No,” I say, “I’ve never met him before.”
“What’s Benson’s interest in you,” he asks?
“He’s my proctor,” I say.
“That’s all.”
“Yes,” I say.
“Can I trust you to stay here while I go and check on a few things,” he asks?
“Yes, but you need to answer one question for me,” I say, “why me?”
“I saw you this morning,” he says, “you looked pathetic, like you needed an escape, and perhaps, a place to hide.”
“This morning I saw the smoke from the wall post,” I say. “Six students didn’t arrive at the POE today.”
“I saw you leave with Benson,” he says. “You looked terrified, but your scan was unusual. You came up unknown.”
“What’s that mean,” I ask?
“Information unavailable, that’s what the program stated,” he says. “But when I just scanned you; it was normal.”
“I’m okay,” I say
“You can make a complaint,” he says.
“We both know that’s not possible,” I say. “You didn’t answer me.”
“You said my name,” he sighs. “That wall post that was destroyed, it was my home. I use to ride your shuttle, but I don’t know you. I would have seen you.”
“I have perfect attendance,” I say. “I’ve never seen you on my shuttle.”
“But,” he asks?
“But nothing,” I lie. I’m not sure if I should trust him.
“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll be back soon.”
I need a place to hide and figure out what happened between us and what to do next. I’ve learned a lot this morning, but the one thing that will stay with me, is the fact that the Federation is not as perfect, as I believed.
“I’ll stay,” I say.
CHAPTER NINE
Quinn
I leave the room. I need some fresh air. I head up to the exterior balcony. Who is this girl? She knows me; she won’t admit it, but she does. I have never met her before, I would remember. She is beautiful, in a plain and simple manner. I look out over the meadow. I remember standing here as a student. It is one of my favorite spots at the POE.
My visual display beeps, “access text.”
NOTIFICATION: All officers to the security office.
I enter the room. Max, Smith, and all of the other officers are gathered around the monitors. I’m the last one to arrive. Max turns around and waves me over.
“Look,” he points to an image on the monitor, “an off-line life f
orce.”
“Within the wall, in the Federation,” I ask?
“Right here,” he says. “Smith found him.”
“And then I lost him,” he says. “He seems to have some sort of device that scrambles our scanners.”
“Are we ready for this,” I ask?
“Don’t doubt the solidity of the Federation,” Max says. “We are strong.”
“I’m not,” I say, “I have confidence, but the technology of the rebels is exceeding our estimations.”
“We think he’s in the building,” Smith says. “It makes sense; the energy spikes were centralized around the POE.”
“We’ve scanned the entire building,” a tech officer says, “and we’ve found nothing. All life forces are accounted for and within protocol.”
Everyone is busy searching monitors for any unusual activity. It seems we have to rely on our human senses, and not our Federation program. I sit at a screen, but I look up Emma Greene. I need to know who she is, and who she is not.
Her file pops up, and it all looks perfect. I stare at her picture. I know I would remember her, how could I forget her.
The other officers leave. Max orders physical searches of the building. How do you find someone who is not on-line?
Earlier I was watching Emma in the banquet hall. She was looking out the glass doors that face the meadow, and the sun was illuminating her, and she looked like a goddess. I find that moment. Who is she?
I see her image, just as she is turning towards the kitchen door. The man approaches her. My heart stops. I scan his image. It doesn’t register. He is not on-line.
I jump up and run out the door, almost knocking over a student in the hallway. I hear Max call after me. I should go back, and tell him what I found, but I don’t have time. I left her alone.
I run down the stairs; I think I miss about half of them in my race to get to Emma. I grab the rail as my feet hit the landing, but I still manage to wipe out, slamming my elbow hard on the tile. I scramble to my feet and leap down the last flight. My elbow is throbbing, but I ignore the pain.
I push through the double doors that lead into the forum and zigzag my way through the students getting ready for the assignments. The office is backstage. I run down the hall. I see the door. It’s closed. My heart is slamming against my chest as I reach for the handle.
CHAPTER TEN
Emma
He leaves, and I sit at the desk. There’s a book sitting on the corner. I pick it up, flip the cover open, and gently thumb through the pages. The words consume my thoughts. I don’t look up when I hear the door open. I wait until I finish the sentence. I smile and look, expecting to see Quinn.
“I have the order, and you are coming with me,” the man says. “Where is Captain Calder?”
“He had to go check on some details,” I say. “He’ll be right back.”
“I don’t have time to wait,” he says. “Let’s go.”
I hesitate. “I think I should tell him,” I say.
“It’s not necessary,” he says. “He has no jurisdiction over you.”
“Am I in trouble,” I ask? “I thought Adam just wanted me to be protected.”
“That information is not available to you,” he says.
“How is that possible,” I ask?
He grabs my arm and pulls me away. We leave the forum and head to the upper level. I keep looking over my shoulder for Quinn, but I don’t see him. I wonder if he’ll think I left on my own or is he will look for me.
We walk into a room in the administration wing. I’ve never been in this room before, and I take a quick glance around before he has a chance to notice my disobedience. There are several computers lined up in front of a wall of monitors and to my left there are more electrical devices stacked against the wall.
“I have a meeting,” the man says. “I will be back for you when I am done.”
He closes the door, locking it from the outside. I try the handle, but it won’t budge. I pull harder. I step back and look at the door. I don’t know what to think. Why would he lock me in here? There are no windows. I walk over to the wall of monitors. I look for anything that I might be able to use to escape. There’s nothing. I sit down. I have nothing else to do. Almost an hour goes by before I hear the lock release and the handle turn. I stand up and face the door.
I prepare to run past the man. My plan is to catch him off guard and just keep running. The door opens, and I charge. But I am not met with the man; it is Quinn.
He grabs me, and I collapse into his arms. Our bodies are touching. I can feel his warmth and his heartbeat. My face rests on his chest. I’m flooded with memories, images of us together. He pulls away from me. I stand less than a foot away from him, but our connection is electrifying.
“Are you okay,” he asks? “You’re trembling.”
I nod.
“Where did he go?”
“A meeting,” I say. “He should be coming back soon.”
“Did he harm you?”
“No.”
He sits down and enters something into the computer. The screens light up, and my heart sinks. On the monitors are pictures of rooms and common areas throughout the POE. I see the foyer and the forum. But what catches my eyes are that several of the monitors are flipping through each of the classrooms. What if they saw me and my Proctor?
I wait for him to turn around. I wonder if he can sense my fear. I want to run out of the room and hide, but with all the monitors there is no escape. I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. I’m losing control. I can’t get enough air. I frantically look for something to help me; anything at all but the room is sparse, except the surveillance equipment.
He turns and looks at me.
I don’t look away. “He’s so beautiful.” He knows, I can see it in his expression, he’s eyes. His eye, I know them. He is the man from my nightmares. I’m losing my mind. He stands and walks towards me. I can’t talk. I can’t breathe. I want to disappear, wake up or run. I can’t move. I try, but my feet aren’t responding. Is this what it feels like to completely malfunction?
I see him.
He’s standing in front of me. His mouth is moving; he’s saying something, and it must be important because his eyes are frantic. I can’t hear him, but I can smell him: crisp, soft, familiar. But the scent disappears. I gasp; desperately trying to find a hint of his fragrance…nothing.
I should be able to feel him.
His hands are on my shoulders. He’s shaking me, but I can’t feel him. I want to feel him. I want the same sensation I felt when he touched me; kissed me in my dreams. I think to myself that it would be different. I am prepared for his touch, and I would enjoy it. But I am numb.
I focus on his eyes; do they belong to him or am I hallucinating? Is he really here, has he stepped out of my mind? I feel another wave of the nausea crash over me. “Please don’t vomit on him!”
His arms surround me. I think I might be falling. I don’t know though because I’m sure that my body has completely detached itself from my mind. All I have are my thoughts. I imagine what it must feel like to have his arms around me. I think of my nightmare…I’m supposed to rescue him.
I see his face and the ceiling behind him. “That’s odd…why, is the ceiling against the wall.” My mind is starting to fade too. I decide to concentrate on his eyes again. When I first noticed them earlier, I thought they were just dark but now that he is so close to me I realize I was wrong. They are dark brown with flecks of gold and copper; they are beautiful. His hair is much the same; dark brown with subtle golden streaks. His face, I wish he would smile at me so I can see his dimple. Adam has a dimple too, are they the same person? I’m losing it. I can’t focus.
The edges of my vision blur with darkness. I can no longer feel myself breath. The only things I know are that I’ve lost my mind, and he is amazing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emma
I can smell autumn: crisp, earthy and safe. I open my eyes; I expect trees,
but I see him. My back is cold, and he is kneeling over me. I sit up. He looks worried.
“Are you okay?” I’m concerned he might be ill.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Excuse me?” I’m confused; did he not understand?
“I’m fine,” he says. “What the Hell happened to you?”
“Me?” He must be ill. “I’m fine too.”
“You just passed out,” he touches my forehead with the back of his hand. “I thought you were dead for a second.”
I look around the room. I’m sitting on the floor, and he’s next to me. My body is sweaty, and my clothes cling to me. “I passed out?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No, is there something wrong with me?” He seems to be on the verge of panic. His breaths are quick. He has this look on his face which, suggest distress. “Should I go to the infirmary?”
“Let me run a scan on you,” he retrieves his receptor and I place my hand on it and wait.
He’s busy looking at the monitor.
“Do you remember me,” I ask?
“What?” He looks up at me. “What do you mean?”
“Quinn,” I say. “I know you, I don’t know how, but I do.”
“I’ve never met you; we’ve been over this.” He looks confused. He leans back and rubs his temple as if in deep thought.
“I can’t explain it,” I say.
“No, there’s something wrong with your program,” he says. He looks down at the receptors screen. “You rebooted?”
“What?” I remove my hand from the receptor. He looks up at me. “When?”
“Apparently, when you passed out,” he’s starting to turn pale. “It’s not possible you need to be connected to a receptor in order to reboot.”
“You don’t look well,” I waited for a response. He just stared at me blankly. “Are you sure you are okay?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to report this.” He stood up and walked over to a row of computers and a wall of monitors.
He pushed some buttons, and one of the screens scrambled and then settled on an image. He motioned for me to join him.