It was Monday morning when the cell door opened wide, and the guard shouted inside, waking the three of us from slumber.
“Let’s go, uniforms on! Five minutes until you’re going upstairs. Cause trouble now, and you can be sure your name will be on a list for the rest of the year, and that it shall not be forgotten easily.”
We dressed, ready when the guard arrived once more, the other doors in the hallway still shut tight. And he brought us upstairs to an auditorium, seating us at the far left side, an array of teachers watching us from below. Then more groups were brought up one by one from downstairs to join us – children all our age within a few years, each of their expressions varying – some with concern, others sleepiness, and several with anger.
Heat radiated from a small boy that stood next to me, holes already singed in several places in his uniform as he scowled, and three teachers from below kept their eyes warily directed at him. In front of me, a heavyset boy yawned, causing the entire section of students to waver as a wave of intense drowsiness passed over us and before departing in the span of a few seconds.
Then at the opposite end of the auditorium, students filed in a line to fill seats while staring down at us, their noses and chins high in the air. Students with freshly combed hair and ironed clothes, that looked like they had showered that morning, and that I recognized from my time watching recess in the rhododendron. Plus one that I particularly recognized, whose brown eyes never left me, and I avoided her gaze.
From below, a woman walked forward from the center of the line of teachers, dressed in a blue suit perfectly tailored to her shape. She tapped the microphone once, then smiled, as if oblivious to the glares directed at her from both sides.
“Welcome,” she said, beaming, “to Rehabilitation Facility 1E, and congratulations on becoming members of its first class. I am Principal Siri, brought here from Facility 1A to help establish this institution. Before we begin, rules shall be established, starting with—”
“Why the Hell did you take me here!” shouted the small boy next to me, his shoes smoking, and I backed away as my arm started to heat up. “Who do you—”
But his voice was cut off as the woman leaned into the microphone, her eyes glinting, and the hard expressions faded from those around me when she started to speak in a sing song fashion:
“We gather here to bring out the best,
“That you should ever be!
“Forget your troubles, now you’re blessed-
“Be calm, listen to me! “
Chapter 18
The heat died down next to me as Siri finished her singing, her eyes directly focused on the boy who had spoken up. His mouth ajar and his eyes glazed, he nodded slowly, blinking as if trying to push away sleep. It was quite rude of him to have spoken up, I thought. On our first day, interrupting the principal could only set a bad precedent.
“As I was saying,” Siri continued, her voice returning to its normal quality and her smile wider than ever. “Now is the time to establish ground rules. Rule one – the usage of powers for any purpose outside of those dictated by your instructors in strictly prohibited and will be punished swiftly. We have been lenient on this matter as you have just arrived, but now you have been warned.
“Rule two, that classes will start at a prompt seven in the morning and end at five. Those who shall be boarding here,” she inclined her head towards us on my side of the assembly, “shall continue with any other required activities and shall not be permitted to leave. The skipping of any required activities is forbidden.
“Rule three is that every one of you is now equal. Those who were brought in as part of the rehabilitation program, you are committers of crimes, and this is your second chance. And those of you went to the academy before – your parents owe the government for your education since you were on scholarship, and unless they can now pay it off, your participation in making the program a success will level the books. Unpaid debts are just as bad as stealing, so until you have completed this task, you are no better than your peers across the aisle.”
There were several snorts from the other side of the auditorium as she finished rule three, and Siri raised her eyebrows, staring at each of the interrupters until the sound subsided. Again, I was struck by how rude they were – everyone knew we were supposed to be calm, and quiet, and to listen.
“Now,” continued Siri as the other teachers stepped forwards from behind her, each standing in front of a section of students. “Today will be an evaluation of skills, meant to discern your potential path in education. Remember, we will instruct you on how to be your best for society. We will mold you and shape you, until you are perfect. Now, follow the instructors below, who will be conducting testing and determining where to send you for your first class. And remember,” she said, turning her stare back towards the boy next to me, whose shoes had slowly started to smolder again but were quickly extinguished, “you don’t want to set a bad impression.”
From below, the instructors waved us into neat lines, keeping a ration of half and half from both sides of the auditorium. Ahead of me, Lucio and Darian were corralled together behind a woman with unnaturally bright teeth. Remembering Darian’s power, and how we were about to be tested, I slipped out of that line and into another, falling into place between two previous members of the academy.
Blake and Peter, who had typically not engaged while the others played, but rather watched for the stragglers that they would throw stones at when the teacher’s back was turned, or manipulate with their powers. When fights broke out, they were the first to arrive, jeering and spurring the parties on until the first punch was thrown, then laughing at the loser.
“Did you track some shit in?” came Blake’s voice behind me, speaking over my head from behind. “Smells like a busted sewer pipe. Just under my nose too.”
Blake swiped his foot forward, catching my back heel and making me stumble as my face turned red.
“Can’t say I did,” came the reply from in front of me from Peter. “Guess we’ll just have to live among the filth until we clean them out, eh?”
He stopped suddenly, and I rammed into his back as Blake guffawed, reeling backwards, only to be shoved forwards again. I whipped around, my fists clenched just as an instructor walked by, casting a warning expression as Blake smiled.
“Go on,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “First fight of the year, you won’t do it.”
I swallowed with the instructor’s eyes still on me and turned back around, remembering why I had come to the facility. Starting fights with another student, however insolent, would only move me farther from my goal.
We marched from the auditorium and down the main hallway, splitting off from the other lines as they departed to other areas of the building. Then we turned left into a classroom and entered, the instructor walking up to the board and turning to face us.
“Take a seat. Each of you will be called up in turn have your powers measured, and each of you will perform to the best of your ability to be adequately separated into study groups. The highest performers will have the first pick of the meals, while the weakest performers will have the last pick at chores. This arrangement is temporary – there shall be ways to advance, if you can improve your worth to the facility. Now, let’s see, who to pick first?”
I settled into a middle desk as he looked over us, and felt a sharp jab behind me. I ignored it, knowing Blake or Peter would only be trying to provoke me, but felt it again. Harder this time.
Angrily I turned, ready to snatch whatever they had been using to irritate me, but was met with Arial’s face instead as she readied a fourth poke with her pencil. She must have slipped into the back of my line unnoticed, trailing me here.
“Why,” she hissed. “Are you ignoring me?”
“You there, middle section, turn around. We’ll start with you, since you’re so eager to talk!” commanded the instructor, and I swallowed, standing up, realizing that Arial would be watching.
&n
bsp; And that she still thought I was a Boreal.
Chapter 19
“Not only will this be a classification, but this too shall be a lesson,” said the instructor as I walked up to the front. “During classes, much of what you learn will be about yourselves and your capabilities. But perhaps far more important is what you learn about each other. The ability to size up a Special and calculate your risks during a confrontation can provide an enormous advantage – by knowing their potential, you know how to stop it. The most dangerous foe, you will find, is the unknown enemy.”
He reached into a bag on his desk, pulling out a copy of a book twice as large as the Directory and showing the title.
Painless Power Classifications.
“This is the textbook for my class, which many of you will be taking, depending upon your own classification. Right,” he said and pointed to me. “You, what’s your power? But don’t tell me your power classification.”
“Erm, ah—” I started, looking at Arial as the instructor drummed his fingers on the book, waiting. and watching. His dark eyes moved over my body as if he were measuring me, or as if I were a piece of fruit at the supermarket among a thousand others, and he was searching for defects.
“Let’s go, boy, we have twenty other students. If each takes as long as you, we might as well send a runner to pick up dinner.”
“I'm a Telekinetic,” I answered with as much assertion as I could muster, breaking off my gaze with Arial to look back at the instructor, shivers running up my spine as I heard her speak up, her voice matter of fact.
“No he isn’t. He’s a Boreal, I’ve seen it!”
Damnit, I thought as the instructor cocked his head and spoke up. Come on, think.
“A Boreal or a Telekinetic? Two very different powers. Well, which is it?”
“Boreal” said Arial as I said “Telekinetic,” and we each glared at the other.
“Boreal,” she repeated again, insistent. “He showed me the dancing lights just a few days ago!”
“He did, did he?” said the instructor and made a note on a slip of paper on his desk. “How, exactly, considering you were at the academy, and he is here for rehabilitation?”
“I, erm,” I said and forced my face to turn beet red, which took little effort as all the members of the class were staring at us. “I’m from the farmland a few miles out of the city. And, I, well, I’d never seen a city girl before.” I shuffled my feet and looked down. “I just wanted to impress her. A Boreal is far more impressive than me.”
From the back, I heard Blake snicker, and my face turned a further shade of red of its own accord.
“By showing her lights?” inquired the instructor, and he made another note. “Despite how much you wanted to impress her, that’s outside the possibility for a telekinetic.”
“We, well, we had climbed a tree, and it was dark inside, you know.” The snickers in the back started to grow louder. “The leaves were blocking the sun, and I moved them around to let it shine through, like a light show. Only she couldn't see the leaves moving, since they were behind her.”
“I bet that’s not all he showed her!” shouted Blake, and Arial’s face turned as red as mine as she whipped around.
“It wasn’t like that!” she snapped at him as both Peter and he erupted into laughter. From the front of the class, the instructor slammed his fist against the desk, the sharp sound cutting off the conversation.
“Enough!” he shouted. “Enough! There is a simple way to solve this, and I won’t have the first class dissolve into disorder. Go on, show us your power. I’m certain we will be able to tell the difference between the two.”
Arial raised her chin as she stared, knowing she had me cornered, her expression triumphant. And I reached behind me, swiping my hand towards the board, scattering the erasers from a distance so they clattered across the floor. Her eyes widened, watering as she wiped them, and she whispered, “Liar.”
“Morally ambiguous, but power certain. Telekinetic it is,” dismissed the instructor slowly and flipped open his book, turning to a specific page. “Now, time for the power classification. Can anyone tell me how we could determine the strength of a telekinetic?”
“By how heavy of something he could lift!” spoke up a student on the far right.
“True,” responded the instructor. “But there’s nothing heavy enough in this classroom to be of use. In addition, during a confrontation situation, you wouldn’t know the strength of his power until he showed his cards, which is an extremely dangerous position. Maybe he has the strength to drop a trailer truck on you, or maybe he can barely lift up a desk. Knowing can be the difference between life and death. So how else can we tell?”
The class remained silent as he waited, and he continued, thumping the book again.
“Good, this means that you’ll have plenty to learn from my class. Powers do not just exhibit their classification when they are at full capacity – no, you can judge them far easier, assuming you know what to look for. In the case of a telekinetic, not only is it difficult for them to lift heavy objects, but also to lift tiny ones. Similar to how a grain of sand might slip between your fingers, those objects are difficult for them to grasp and can be a quick tell in a fight. For instance, back when I was on active duty, there was one who could control the very dust in the air, formed pictures with it as he approached, and to this day, I have never seen someone with such control or strength.”
He tossed a paperclip on the ground in front of me, the metal tinging as it bounced on the tile and coming to rest at my feet.
“We’ll start small. Go on, try to lift that without damaging it.”
I frowned and reached out with my power, creating the force point above the paperclip just as I had done with the grocery cart, concentrating it into a narrow cone. But similar to a true telekinetic, the field I produced was too strong for something so delicate, and the metal shriveled into a ball.
“Right there is about the borderline between high and mid power class, as documented in this book. If you ever come into a fight against a telekinetic, and you find paperclip-sized objects coming at you with some accuracy, know that you are in for trouble. Now, try this.”
He tossed a pen cap on the ground, and this time, it started to float upwards before slipping into the force point and cracking. With frustration, I dropped the two halves on the floor, letting them bounce away. Here, I needed to show that my powers were capable enough to get me into the better classes. Not so strong as to arouse suspicion, but enough to make my time at the facility effective.
“Now this,” he said and tossed a rubber eraser the size of my thumb down.
This time, the object floated obediently at my command, and I lifted it gently, spinning it in a loop and placing it back upon his desk.
“Mid-level, near dead center,” announced the instructor, making a final note on his paper, “And that, class, is the advantage. I now know how dangerous he is, because I know exactly what he can do. He can’t surprise me! And because of that, I can win. Now, who’s next?”
Chapter 20
One by one, the other students of the class were called forward, and the instructor demonstrated simple tests to determine their powers. Behind him he had, written Mr. Linns on the board to match the nameplate on his desk, underscoring several times with a marker. And for each of them, he had a separate page in his book, which I could now see was classified by power groupings so that several powers had the same tests to determine their strength.
For instance, the same test he had used on me for telepathy was used for Anthony, the student with powers over controlling the wind, by seeing how small of an object he could steadily levitate under an air current from several feet away. Similar to me, the eraser was the point where he lost control of his power, but for his power, that correlated with a higher than average strength, though not quite high powered.
Blake went next, flashing skin that turned to crystal under his command, making him a member of the Diamond Ext
erior power type. He flashed a smile as he walked to the front of the room, light sparkling off of a temporary diamond grille that replaced his front teeth, and flexed his arm, the muscles ripping into sections of glittering stone.
“Interesting, see here, class!” said Mr. Linns, leaning forward, his finger tracing along Blake’s arm. “Power levels for Diamond Exteriors are determined through flexibility after the skin to stone conversion! See how he can still bend his arm, even though it is crystalline? As well as his knees! Truly marvelous. The rationale between this classification is that, in their hardened state, Diamond Exteriors are near indestructible and can produce razor sharp edges. And an indestructible foe with swords for limbs running at you is far more dangerous than one who can simply stay put and take a beating! Yes, this is high power here, due to the sheer defense.”
“Of course I'm high powered,” scoffed Blake, taking the chance to flex again and make rainbows cascade out of the prisms on his bicep, “with the papers to prove it.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” responded Mr. Linns, then waved him away. “Next!”
Arial walked to the front of the room, still cross but with regained composure, and refusing to look at me.
“Ah yes, Fliers,” observed Mr. Linns when he saw her feet were actually a few inches above the ground as she waited. “A more difficult power to determine in the confines of such a small room. Typically, Fliers are classified through acceleration values, which directly correlate to the amount of lift force they can produce. Later, I will describe how to evaluate these in a more open environment. However, there is another method, one we will employ here. For Fliers, power generation occurs vertically – it’s extremely difficult for them to hold a stationary angle. See how she is vertical now and at ease? But if she were to tilt backwards, even a few degrees, maintaining steady posture is far more difficult without forward motion. Observe.”
Star Child: Places of Power Page 7