The Amplified

by Lauren M. Flauding

  Our teachers at school were the images, the projections, and the occasional holographic appearance of the Governor. My classmates used to say that if you walked through the hologram of Governor Plenaris, you would die. So one day I walked up and stuck my hand into the edge of the hologram. I didn't die, but it seared off the tip of my right index finger. It was incredibly painful, but I just went back to my seat, determined not to cry or show any weakness. That was the day the kids at my school stopped bothering me.

  I rub the shortened tip of that finger as I stare out the tiny window of the sleeping pod. Adrian is leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, but I know he's not asleep. I wonder what other changes he might have made underneath all those new muscles, what kinds of experiences drove him to share the same sentiments as people who shout insults at strangers from the Mall-cruiser and beat up defenseless old men in bars. Will I come back with those opinions after my four years of Service?

  "Hey Mari," Adrian murmurs, his eyes still closed, "do you remember when we used to mess with the control tower guards?"

  I smile in spite of myself.

  "Yeah, those were good times."

  _________

  As soon as we turn the corner onto our street, I see my younger brother Daniel jump up from our front porch and start bounding toward us.

  "A-A-Adrian!" He yells in that heartbreaking stutter. It's actually kind of endearing. I'm not really looking forward to his Amplification when he'll likely find a way to fix it. Daniel slams right into Adrian and wraps his arms around his older brother's trunk-like legs. Adrian reaches down to tousle Daniel's stick-straight brown hair. They marvel at one another's transformations as they approach the house. I see Adrian's playful expression change when he sees our mother leaning against the doorframe.

  She is still a beautiful woman. Age and worry have etched a few lines into her tan skin and woven some gray streaks into her long, dark hair, but I've noticed the way some of the men at the farm look at her. I know she can always feel their stares.

  She opens her arms wide as we approach, her vacant eyes searching the air in front of her.

  "Where is my first born?" She jokes lightly, smiling as see waits expectantly.

  "Right here, mom," Adrian replies, moving into her embrace.

  "Adrian!" My mother exclaims. "You left here a boy and came back a ... bear!" She feels his arms, shoulders, and face, letting her hands see what her eyes cannot.

  "Ah, mom, it's not a big deal," Adrian dodges sheepishly.

  "Yes it is!" Daniel pipes up. "He's three t-times the size he w-w-was when he left!"

  I notice Adrian is actually starting to feel self-conscious, so I change the subject.

  "Hey, all of Adrian's belongings from Service arrived this morning, right?"

  Daniel lights up.

  "That's right! I've been d-dying to go through them but mom m-made me wait!" He ducks into the house, pulling Adrian in with him. "C-c-come on, Adrian, you've g-g-g-got to show m-me everything!"

  Mom sighs as her sons pass by. I take her elbow to lead her into the house, even though she rarely needs guidance.

  "He's changed," she remarks.

  "Yeah, he's gotten big."

  "Hm. That too."

  I always marvel at how much my mother can see in spite of her blindness.

  Chapter 3

  "Ugh! These stupid worms keep getting in the way!" My friend Alia wrinkles her nose as she flings another poor worm over the fence.

  "They're not that bad," I tease. "I think they're kind of cute."

  "Then why don't you take some of them home as pets so I don't have to keep feeling them squish between my fingers!"

  I can't help but smile. With her delicate skin and glowing blonde hair, Alia looks more likely to be a movie star than someone sitting in the dirt pulling up weeds.

  "I wish Joby were here," Alia pouts, "then I wouldn't be the only one complaining."

  I laugh as I imagine our friend Joby, who might be the laziest person I know, continuously bending over and digging around in the dirt with the hot sun on his back. Luckily for him, he got his labor assignment in the nutrition factory, sitting all day sorting through small machinery parts.

  "Calm down, Alia," I chide. "You only have to do this for a few more days."

  "I know!" She responds excitedly, blowing her hair out of her face, "It was starting to feel like I'd never get Amplified."

  "You're telling me! I've been counting down the days ever since my brother got his."

  "Speaking of your brother," Alia adds mischievously, "I saw him the other day. He looks delicious."

  "Please don't ever refer to my brother that way again."

  "What? He's filled out very nicely. You can't blame me for recognizing a fantastic male specimen when I see one."

  "Okay, you have got to stop that."

  "Or what? You'll pull a Miles Paxton?"

  I chuckle dutifully at her comment, but the memory still feels a little too raw to joke about. Even though it's been three years since my friend Miles broke into the nutrition factory and disappeared, I still have nightmares about him. Nobody knew how he managed to get past the guards, but I had a fairly good idea. We used to practice the fighting techniques we saw in the films at school, which was forbidden, but we would find places where there were no cameras and fight with imaginary people, with bushes, or with each other. We got pretty good. He would tell me how he used to spy on the night guards at the factories and the control tower. He said that they were usually slow and drowsy from being up all night, especially when they would forget to command themselves to stay awake.

  He would talk about stealing supplies and running away all the time, but I couldn't understand why he would want to give up the opportunity to be Amplified, so I never took him seriously. The night Miles went missing, an air barge hovered over our compound for hours, bright lights scouring every house and soldiers seeming to rain down from the sky in search of him. It wouldn't have been such a big deal except that he stole a whole crate of capsules, which no one had ever managed to do before.

  The next morning, some Restrainers came into our school. They looked so intimidating in their shiny, official uniforms. I was fascinated by the Restrainers; people who work directly under Governor Plenaris and have enhanced Amplification to more effectively protect our Community. They told us we would be rewarded if we could tell them anything that might lead to Miles' whereabouts. I was tempted say something. I was worried about Miles and what would happen to him, but mostly I was mad that he left me behind. I felt betrayed. In the end though, Miles had never told me where he planned to go, so I couldn't give them any useful information anyway.

  After two weeks of unsuccessful searching, The Restrainers sent a report back to Governor Plenaris saying that Miles had likely crossed out of the Community's transmitter range and perished in the open desert. Their assumption frightened me, but somehow I knew Miles was smarter than to just run off and collapse in the desert. I think other people assumed he wasn't stupid enough to wander off and die either, not someone who had gotten past a dozen Amplified guards and stolen a bunch of capsules. So he became a legend. Anything or anyone that goes missing for any amount of time is referred to as a "Miles Paxton." It's become a dangerous, albeit, severely overused expression. I guess some people think it's cool to mention him. For me, it just reopens the wound.

  "This is so tedious!" Alia complains, bringing me back to the present. "Don't they have machines for this?"

  "No," I say, clearing my throat, "with small crops like these, the machines can't differentiate between the weeds and the vegetables." Alia gives me a bored look. "That's why they need our nimble fingers," I add lamely, trying to sound more interesting.

  "Mari, You know too much about useless things."

  "Maybe," I respond. "But it's relevant to us right now, so it's not completely useless."

  "Ok, whatever," Alia replies nonchalantly. She gestures to the crops we're weeding around. "Speaking of useless i
nformation, do you know what these taste like?"

  I look down at the long, green vegetables. Beans, I think they're called.

  "No. Why would I know that?"

  Alia shrugs. "I don't know. You just seem like someone who'd be curious enough to try them."

  I shake my head. "Not that curious."

  Nobody eats the crops. When they're harvested, they go directly to the nutrition factory to be processed and encapsulated. Years ago, people used to eat the crops, some more than others. But then they started threatening to refuse or remove Amplification for eating them, and people promptly stopped. Nobody really does anything out of line anymore. They're too afraid of losing Amplification.

  I look up and see my mother coming toward us, walking confidently down the rows of crops she's worked in for most of the last 16 years. My father used to work here too, before The 12-Hours Virus killed him and hundreds of others. That was a terrible time. The virus seemingly came from nowhere and was gone within a week, but once contracted, the victim only survived for about 12 hours, which is what gave the virus its name. Most of the Amplified were able to manipulate their bodies back to health, but those not Amplified simply weren't able to get medical help in time. My father was strong until the very end, not collapsing and weeping as many were doing. It was hard on my family, but my mother was calm and peaceful through it all. That was five years ago.

  "Hello girls!" My mother calls cheerfully. "Are you enjoying this nice, warm weather?"

  Warm is an understatement. We've been in the blistering sun for several hours now and I can feel sweat trickling down my back.

  "Hello Felicia," Alia exclaims sweetly. I've always found it weird that she calls my mother by her first name. "It must be nice to have Adrian home again."

  The way she says Adrian's name makes me nauseous and I stare at her, willing her not to say anything inappropriate about my brother again.

  "It's been wonderful, although a bit of an adjustment," my mom confesses, furrowing her brow.

  It has been an adjustment. We've loved hearing about all of Adrian's adventures and watching him show us all the things he can do, but I think he's stressing my mother out with his late nights and close calls with the Restrainers. He's probably just been restless with all this free time. In the next week or so he'll receive his work rotation and probably move to the city.

  "Anyway," my mom continues, "I'm supposed to tell you two that you're off early today because you need to pick up your training uniforms in the city."

  "Really?" Alia shrieks, jumping up from her knees, "That's the best news ever!"

  She looks so elated, I don't have the heart to tell her she has a worm in her hair.

  Chapter 4

  "Adrian? Can I come in?" It feels odd to be knocking on the door to his room when I always used to walk right in, but now we're both older and I feel like I should respect his privacy. I hear Adrian mumble an assent so I crack open the door and see him lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

  "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask, still wondering why I feel like I'm inconveniencing him. He props himself up on one elbow.

  "Sure, what's up?"

  I cross the room and sit on the only other piece of furniture besides the bed; a beautiful hand-carved wooden chair my dad made a few months before he died. I clear my throat and try to figure out if I actually want answers or just reassurance.

  "I'm reporting for Training tomorrow, and I just feel..."

  "Nervous?" Adrian offers. "That's pretty normal."

  "No, I'm not nervous," I say slowly, running my seared finger along the pattern etched into the chair. "Well, I am nervous, but mostly I'm just worried about ... losing myself."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. It just seems like most people are different after they're Amplified, like they abandon everything that makes them unique." I bite my lip as I realize that lately I've accused Adrian of this very thing, but he seems unaffected, so I continue. "I mean, I think Amplification is incredible, and I've been waiting for this for years, but I don't want to have to trade morals and memories for skills and abilities. If I could just-"

  Suddenly Adrian lets out a loud laugh. Confused, I look at him more closely, and see the small Adhesive applied to his temple. I should have recognized his glazed eyes and the way he was looking at a point just above my head.

  "You're watching a movie?" I exclaim, jumping out of the chair.

  "Sorry sis!" He admits sheepishly. "But I was listening, I promise!"

  "Really? What was I just saying?"

  "That you're nervous about Training."

  "I can't believe you."

  "Hey, I wish I could stop it, but you know how it is with these Adhesives - once you stick them on, you just have to wait until they finish."

  "I know," I retort coldly, turning to leave.

  "Mari, just come back in an hour and then I can answer all your questions."

  I walk out of the room and close the door behind me.

  "You already did," I murmur.

  _________

  I've never particularly enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror, unlike Alia, who once told me she'll look for any excuse to see her reflection. But I want a good picture of what the other trainees will see tomorrow, so I put on my pale green Training uniform and force my eyes up to study my features. I have my mother's caramel skin and my father's auburn hair, but the look of defiance staring out from my large brown eyes is all my own. I look over the unbalanced portions of my body; my legs are too long and my torso too short, so the bottoms of my pants fall conspicuously above my ankles. Hopefully no one will notice if I let down the hem.

  A big-eyed, angry-looking, gangly girl, that's what they'll see, I think. Shrugging my shoulders, I turn away from the mirror and gasp as I see my mother standing in the doorway.

  "Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologizes. "I just wanted to make sure everything is all right. You seem a little anxious."

  I let out my breath. I have been a bit on edge today.

  "I guess I'm still trying to process everything," I admit. "I'm ready to go to Training, but I wish I knew exactly what to expect."

  "Sometimes the only way to know things is to experience them for yourself," she replies.

  I frown. It's a simple statement, but I feel like she means something else. I change the subject and ask her the question I've probably asked a thousand times before.

  "Mom, why did you never get Amplified?"

  She smiles. "I have my reasons." Her expression is light, but her eyes are oddly lucid and intense. She's given a variation of this answer every time I've asked. Maybe one day she'll explain those reasons.

  "It just doesn't seem right," I press. "How does it comply with the Equality Movement if some people are Amplified and some aren't?"

  "We're equal in our desires," she responds.

  _________

  I can't sleep. I keep looking out my small window, willing the sun to rise. How could anyone actually sleep the night before they get Amplified? I get out of bed and tip toe to the cabinet in the front room. Maybe a nutrition capsule will help ease my nausea. On my way back to bed, I hear muffled sounds coming from Adrian's room. I notice his door is cracked open so I quietly walk over and peek in. After a few seconds I realize that he's talking in his sleep. I move closer to the door, straining to catch his words.

  "Adrian, do one thousand push-ups," he mumbles. I can imagine he has commanded himself to do that often in order to attain his current physique. He shifts in bed and mutters something else.

  "Adrian, run faster!"

  His breath quickens and he groans a little. I guess his words are coinciding with his dreams. I remember learning that in the early days of Amplification, people would often access their Amplifier accidentally by talking in their sleep, so it was modified to shut off when someone was unconscious. I'm grateful that modification was made, otherwise Adrian would likely wake everyone up with his compulsory exercising. />
  "Adrian, attack the Dissenters!" He whispers. I have to keep myself from laughing. It really isn't funny, him revisiting combat in his sleep, but the way he says it sounds like the self-important tone of a toddler pretending to wage war against an army of unsuspecting bushes. I watch him flinch a few times, then his breathing slows and his body appears to relax. I'm about to return to my room when I hear him speak again.

  "Adrian, kill him."

  My breath catches in my throat. I turn and quickly walk away, willing myself to forget the words my brother uttered so calmly in his subconscious.

  Chapter 5

  For the first time today, I feel the exhaustion setting in. It seems like an eternity since I said goodbye to my mother and brothers this morning, my sadness from leaving them overshadowed by the excitement of what was to come. "You'll s-send us messages, w-won't you Mari?" Daniel had asked pleadingly, probably recalling Adrian's lack of correspondence while he was in the Service. I had promised to send him an Adhesive message twice a month. Hopefully I'll have enough free time during Training to deliver on that promise.

  The ride into the city on the Mall-cruiser with Alia and Joby was uneventful, I think we were all too agitated to sustain any real conversation. I heard the air barge before I saw it — hovering high above the landing field, it's dozens of long cables hanging down like tentacles. I was surprised when the Restrainers explained how to board the air barge; setting one foot in a loop at the end of a cable and holding on while the cables retracted into the barge. It seemed a little crazy, almost like some kind of initiation to make sure we really wanted to be Amplified. I was a little hesitant, but not as much as some others. A boy I remember from my class got hysterical and refused to board. It was pretty embarrassing for all of us, ashamed that anyone our age would act like that. I felt bad for him, but not too much. He was one of the boys who used to terrorize me for being the child of a clam.