The Institute

by Kayla Howarth

  ***

  I’m standing in a room full of leering students. Ebb stands beside me, her bright auburn hair glistening in the sunlight streaming in through the classroom window. She looks to me and nods, signalling for me to start.

  My voice comes out barely above a whisper at first. “To understand the founding of the Institute, we have to first learn about the history of the country.” I clear my throat, and speak a little louder. “There were approximately twenty-five million people living in this country around the time the pandemic broke out. A new strain of illness that moved in the body like metastatic cancer and killed as quickly as Ebola. It was years before scientists came up with a vaccine against the disease.”

  Ebb takes over, much more confident than I am. “Our numbers were dwindling and the government was concerned about our nation’s survival. Some neighbouring smaller countries had already been decimated, and our government was very worried that we would follow suit—especially because our population was so little to begin with compared to some of the other countries that had over two hundred million residents. The country had the land mass to support a high population, but the middle of the country was always uninhabitable desert, so most residents lived along the coastlines. When the pandemic broke out, it spread quickly and didn’t discriminate.”

  My turn to talk again as we continue alternating between different segments of our assignment. “After the pandemic hit, a worldwide travel ban was put in place. A ban that still exists today because of the fear of another pandemic breaking out and spreading, ultimately eradicating everyone. This fear of the uncontrollable illness drove countries to guard their borders with such extreme ferocity that even the minutest of infringements often led to wars, which allowed the virus to spread even more. We were fortunate that we didn't share a land border with another country. Aside from the occasional boats, border control measures worked.

  “However, the lack of land borders meant that the country had to learn how to be self-sufficient. We were lucky enough that our country excelled in the medical field, a vaccine was created and administered, and then a baby boom ensued. The government was offering incentives for couples to build big families. To qualify for extra food allowances and medicines, a minimum of two children was required per family. The more children you had, the more help you received from the government.

  “Then a peculiar thing started happening. Some of these children being born were said to have special abilities. About one in five thousand children had this defect.” My voice starts wavering, and I hope I can pass it off as nerves. “Some believe it was a side effect from the vaccine, that it caused a fault, a change of DNA in some people, although this has never been proven. Other theories include that it was the next leap in evolutionary change and that soon enough everyone will have an extra ability of their own. There are many theories out there, none of which have been substantiated.”

  Even though it is technically still my turn to talk, Ebb hears the cracking of my voice and takes over. “As the years went on, the population of these special children grew. By the time these children hit puberty, and all the hormones raging through their bodies, ‘incidents’ started happening. People were getting hurt, some even getting killed. The government started removing those with these special abilities from their families.”

  I compose myself enough to keep going. “This was just over forty years ago. There was one major problem with forcibly removing the Defective, though. It sent them into hiding. After all, no one is going to offer themselves or their child up for removal—especially since no one heard from them again, and rumours abounded that the Defective were executed. Of course, incidents kept happening. The government finally learnt their mistake when a boy, only eleven years old, created a nuclear blast that wiped out the entire west coast of the country, along with all the people in it. Our population numbers, while on the climb, were still quite low from a sustainability standpoint, and then this child easily more than halved them by losing his temper. At the lowest count, we had an estimated 700,000 residents remaining.

  “People started hunting the Defective and killed them. When this happened, the government knew they had to come up with a more effective solution. They came up with a way to control the Defective and ensure that the population can start rebuilding yet again: the Institute. The Institute allows those with defects to live in a safe environment away from vigilantes and away from the general public where they have the power to hurt themselves and those around them. For the Defective, the Institute gives hope.

  “Our population is currently on the rise, and the occurrence of incidents is unheard of. At last census, our population was approximately three million and rising.”

  My last line. I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Allira. Allira!” I’m startled awake by a familiar voice. I’m in my bed, and Ebbodine’s lightly shaking me. She smells of soil and sweat with a hint of jasmine, like always. As I realise what’s happening, I sit up, throwing my arms around her. She’s okay.

  “Whoa, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not into girls.” She laughs, pushing me away. “I can’t stay long. I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. I’m with your mother,” she says. She’s with my mother?

  Opening my eyes and sitting up, I realise it was just a horrible, terrible dream. Two horrible, terrible dreams. Ebb isn’t back, she’s still out there somewhere, trying to get home, or worse—maybe she really is with my mother.

  Lying back down, I grunt in frustration. “That frickin’ speech,” I mutter to myself.

  When I first met Ebb, I thought she was the shallowest person I’d ever met. It was my first day at school, our history teacher put us together for this assignment, and I resented the fact I was paired with the “pretty girl.” But Ebbodine ended up surprising me. She welcomed me without hesitation and took me under her wing, showed me around school, and was surprisingly uptight about our assignment having to be perfect.

  I can still remember that assignment word for word and dream of it often. Even more so now Ebb’s gone. ‘The history of the Institute and the vital role it plays in today’s society.’ Ugh.

  It was perfect—on my first day of yet another new school, I not only had to make new friends but also write an essay on why my brother should have his basic rights as a human being stripped away for being different, but, of course, without giving away the fact that a member of my family is Defective.

  I often wondered if these little essays and the yearly tours to the Institute are just more ways for the government to flush out those who are Defective.

  This ridiculous report was the thing that made Ebb and I become friends and basically inseparable. She taught me a lot about the things I never used to care about, like how to dress to accentuate what little curves I have, how to apply makeup, and the all-important how to walk in heels.

  I didn’t believe a word of our assignment, of course. I was raised to distrust any information given to me by any government department regarding the Institute and its history.

  Dad even doubts the government is enforcing the international travel ban given how desperate we are for an increase in population, saying that we don’t have the military capacity to monitor such a thing. He always used to joke about government officials meeting people at the docks with fake IDs, which would be ironic, considering before the pandemic they were turning boats of asylum-seekers away because of the “political issues” attached to letting them in.

  Dad always used to tell me stories of when he was a young boy, before the vigilante executions started. Sure, he was only a child at the time, but he remembers never having to live in fear of being caught as we do now. I think of one day being able to live that way, but I just can’t imagine it. We’ve been looking over our shoulders for so long, it has become second nature.

  Some people didn’t believe these so called Defective incidents were “incidents” at all. They believed that anyone with such defects were villainous, evil to the co
re with the sole purpose to destroy—like they were robots or some kind of demons.

  The law states anyone with a defect must turn themselves over to the Institute for treatment, but I’m sure there are others out there, just like us, who believe Defectives shouldn’t be caged like animals. My dad is obviously a strong believer in this; otherwise, Shilah would’ve been shipped off to the Institute at the age of four.

  Dad’s theory is the government is threatened by these adolescents because as they grow, their abilities will too, and they’ll end up being more powerful than any normal human. He believes they’re scared this country will eventually be overrun by these monsters and they can’t allow that. Granted, this is just Dad’s opinion and his words are biased. He has a Defective son; of course, he’s going to hate the Institute.

  I often wonder if my angst towards the Institute is because I’ve been told the same thing over and over since I was a young child, and I can only see it the one way. Perhaps I’m not open to the possibility that it’s what they claim to be—a refuge, a rehabilitation centre, a safe haven for the Defective.