by John Dixon
How in the world?
Shouting drew her attention across the court to the weight room, where a circle of gigantic cadets hollered encouragement while a kid built like a professional wrestler did standing shoulder presses with a massive metal I beam atop which sat a pair of grinning cadets.
Posthumans…
The new cadets fanned out, murmuring with amazement.
The sprinters blurred past again.
Scarlett approached another corner, then stopped and stared.
A pair of cadets played Ping-Pong. Only their eyes moved. The ball smashed back and forth as if being pounded by invisible paddles.
Amazing…
Behind them, a petite cadet shuffled like a boxer around a leather heavy bag suspended from a metal frame. Though her hands remained close to her face in a peekaboo defense, the bag jerked and hopped, the chains overhead jangling crazily, as if a young Mike Tyson were pounding out combinations.
Scarlett spoke to the nearest new cadet, the redhead with the weird tattoo on her neck. “This is crazy.”
The redhead nodded, looking afraid, and pointed to a table where a pair of cadets, one male, one female, were playing chess.
Scarlett drifted in that direction. The player of the black pieces, a tall, skinny girl wearing spectacles, leaned forward, staring at the complex position. Drawing closer, Scarlett analyzed the board—a nice, calming exercise for her brain. Material was equal. The player of the white pieces was safe behind stonewalled pawns with one curious structural aberration. He’d pushed the pawn in front of his castled king, weakening his defense. He moved the pawn recklessly forward again, threatening black’s knight.
Coming around the side of the board, Scarlett saw the player of the white pieces for the first time. He was gorgeous. An athletic-looking Asian guy with a strong jaw, freckles, and luminous blue eyes, he stared like a predator at his opponent’s threatened piece.
The player of the black pieces leaned back and crossed her arms. The threatened knight lifted from the board as if it had been picked up by an invisible hand, retreated through the air, and settled gently onto black’s back rank.
Amazing…
“Ha,” the guy said, obviously unimpressed by his opponent’s use of telekinesis, and used his hand to push his bishop across the board, snatching black’s H pawn. “Check, DeCraig.”
Scarlett shifted her focus. She hadn’t even considered the move, and with good reason. The bishop had no protection. He’d just traded a bishop for a pawn.
Guess his special power isn’t chess.
DeCraig shrugged, half laughing. “Okay,” she said, and took the bishop with her king.
The guy grabbed his queen.
“No,” said one of the observing white-clad firsties, an intense-looking girl whose name tag read UBA. “Use your mind, not your hand, Kyeong.”
Kyeong gave Uba a hard look but released his queen and stared at the piece.
Hopkins, the officious Doberman from the corridor, slid up beside Uba, chuckling. “Ten bucks says he can’t do it.”
Kyeong glared at him. “Shut up, Hopkins.”
Hopkins leaned in, eyes flashing. “That’s ‘Shut up, sir’ to you, yearling. Let’s go, Kyeong. It’s simple. That piece is only a few ounces. Push it.”
Kyeong stared venomously for a second longer, then returned his attention to the piece.
Now Scarlett saw his intended move. It was pretty awesome. Kyeong had sacrificed the bishop to open the king’s defenses. His queen would move out on its diagonal to the H file and throw check, forcing the king back behind its damaged pawn shield. Meanwhile, his own defense, though wonky at a glance, was actually rock solid. After throwing check, he could lift his rook, line up a battery with his queen, and probably force mate in a few moves. Scarlett wasn’t good enough to guarantee it, let alone count it out, but she could see that Kyeong’s seeming recklessness had actually been carefully calculated.
DeCraig, Uba, Hopkins…none of them seemed to see it. Scarlett grinned. Smart and ballsy stuff, aggressive and sly. She liked Kyeong’s style.
Kyeong stared at the queen with narrowed eyes, the tip of his tongue poking from one corner of his mouth.
The piece wobbled in place.
Come on, Scarlett thought. You can do it.
“Whoa, Kyeong,” Hopkins said. “Easy does it. Don’t mess up.”
A couple of Hopkins’s buddies sidled up. “Kyeong the Cannon,” one of them jeered.
Don’t listen to them, Scarlett thought. You can do this.
Kyeong’s face twisted with concentration. The queen jerked out its diagonal. One square, two…
Scarlett smiled. That’s it, Kyeong.
The queen shot off the board and tink-tink-tink-ed across the floor.
Hopkins and his buddies burst into laughter.
“Hey!” Kyeong said. “Who did that?”
“It’s okay,” DeCraig said. “I’ll get it.” She frowned at the laughing upperclassmen and twisted in her seat. The piece lifted into the air and started to drift back in their direction.
Uba turned on the laughing cadets, unamused. “Hopkins, did you—”
“Assholes!” Kyeong shouted, and the board and pieces flew from the table and clattered loudly off the floor.
“Kyeong the Cannon blew up the board!” Hopkins shouted. His friends roared with laughter.
Kyeong shot to his feet.
Hopkins’s laughter died, and he fell back, ready to fight. “Come on, Kyeong. Do us all a favor. Try to blast me like you did Harrison. The faster you buy The Farm, the better.”
“Enough,” Uba said, stepping between them.
Scarlett grunted as a pair of soldiers knocked her aside, hurried past, and grabbed Kyeong by the arms.
“Hey,” Scarlett said. “He didn’t do anything.”
Kyeong turned in her direction. They made eye contact, and then he was shouting curses as the guards dragged him from the gym.
Hopkins and his buddies exchanged high fives.
DeCraig and Uba frowned.
Scarlett bent to pick up a piece at her feet, but a hand fell on her shoulder.
“Don’t bother, Scarlett,” Rhoads said. “We have work to do.”
Fuller called the new cadets to formation near the door.
Scarlett lingered beside the colonel. “But sir,” she said, “Kyeong didn’t do anything.”
Rhoads looked at her but said nothing, then turned and marched away.
Scarlett started after him.
Hopkins stepped in her way. “New Cadet, why aren’t you in formation?”
“I—”
“New Cadet, get into formation…now,” Hopkins said, and she didn’t need any special power to read the challenge in the firstie’s eyes. Hopkins wanted her to disobey so that he could…what? Far above, on the campus of West Point, he might shout or tell her to do push-ups. Here, anything was possible.
“Yes, sir,” she said, and marched across the gym floor, fists swinging at her side.
AT THE END OF A very long day, they marched into a long cinder block corridor lined with metal doors. They paired off, one chaperone per cadet. Scarlett ended up with Fuller.
Unlocking one of the metal doors and gesturing her inside, Fuller said, “Home sweet home, Winter. Your dorm.”
Oh, no…
The place reminded her of juvie: same concrete floor and block walls, same metal door set with a square of impact glass, same stainless steel toilet, even the same faint smell of Pine-Sol. All this room lacked was a bunk bed and an acne-scarred roomie spouting hopped-up stories about stuff they both knew she’d never done. Only one bed here and no roommate, apparently. Solitary confinement, then.
“This isn’t a dorm,” she said. “It’s a prison cell.”
“Do not speak unless spoken
to, New Cadet,” Fuller said. He opened a freestanding metal cabinet, revealing drawers, a space for hanging clothes, and a small shelf. Pointing to each section, he explained—rapidly, in great detail—what went where and how everything needed to be positioned: the order of the hats on the shelf, the order and direction in which each uniform piece was to hang, the correct methods for rolling and storing socks. Scarlett would never remember it all. No one could. Except maybe that Amer girl…
“Square away this room, New Cadet,” Fuller said. “All equipment stored properly and secured at all times.” Then he stepped back into the corridor. “Study your knowledge book. Taps at 2200, breakfast formation at 0630.” Then he swung the door shut with a heavy clang. The lock clacked into place.
What a day…
She was exhausted. The cadre had kept them busy every second, nearly drowning them with a pounding waterfall of procedural information. She wanted to pass out but had to unpack her stuff while she still remembered some of Fuller’s instructions. She dumped the contents of the blue bag and got to work folding, hanging, and positioning everything, all the while trying to process everything.
I’m surrounded by people who can lift trucks and run up walls and move stuff with their minds. Comic book stuff, but real.
Once she’d put her stuff away and locked the cabinet, she sat on her cot. The mattress was as thin and hard as a wrestling mat, but it was nice to just sit and breathe, no one telling her what to do, what to remember. She panned her gaze across the block wall, industrial yellow in color, across the metal sink and toilet, the locked metal door.
She went to the square of thick glass and looked out onto a hallway of metal doors. Blurry faces stared from some windows, the thick glass making their features as indistinct as those of half-formed people.
She wanted to sleep but needed to study this stupid knowledge book, which was apparently specific to The Point. Guaranteed they’d quiz everybody in the morning, and she was determined to follow her father’s advice: Just do your job correctly and never volunteer for anything. That, her father insisted, was the key to survival in the Army.
So she opened the knowledge book.
THE POINT HONOR CODE
“A cadet will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do.”
LYING: A cadet will not deceive another cadet through an untruth or an omission of truth. A cadet will not withhold their abilities or work to withhold the uncommon abilities of those around them. A cadet will use their uncommon ability to its utmost when they are called upon to do so; to do otherwise is lying.
CHEATING: A cadet will not fraudulently act out of self-interest to gain an advantage. A cadet will not use their uncommon ability to deceive anyone about their strengths or weaknesses or blame an uncommon event on circumstance. A cadet will not use their uncommon ability outside of the Point compound.
STEALING: A cadet will not wrongfully take, obtain, or withhold the money, property, belongings, or service of another cadet, the faculty, or The Point itself. This includes refusing to use one’s uncommon ability when it is requested of them or required to continue business as usual at the academy, or using one’s uncommon ability to unfairly take power, thought, or ability from another cadet.
TOLERATION: A cadet must report to a superior if they are witness to or learn of any violation of the Honor Code. A cadet is required to use their uncommon ability to its strongest to learn of an Honor Code violation if they suspect such a violation to have occurred.
The Three Rules of Thumb:
• Does this action attempt to deceive anyone or allow anyone to be deceived about what I truly am?
• Does this action gain or allow the gain of privilege or advantage to which I, someone else, or a common human being would not be otherwise entitled?
• If I were on the receiving end of this action, would I desire to use my uncommon ability to change the outcome?
Always Remember:
You are not a common human being. You possess an uncommon ability which you cannot control. You require our aid to help you hone your uncommon ability and be the best American you can be. In return, it is your duty to use that ability for the good of the United States of America and the Academy.
Scarlett frowned. She’d never been a thief, rarely cared enough to cheat, and had gotten into way more trouble over the years for telling the truth than she had for lying, but the toleration thing bothered her. She was no tattletale. Getting in trouble for not ratting on somebody sounded more like Cold War Hungary than West Point.
But this wasn’t West Point. This was The Point. Different population, different policies.
She turned the page.
PUNISHMENT:
Given their state of constant observation and their awareness of it, it is incredibly rare that a cadet violates the Honor Code. However, if such an infraction occurs, levels of punishment have been considered. Punishment numbers are reset every semester unless mitigating circumstances come into play.
Basic offense: Committing through ignorance, hubris, or deviousness a violation of the honor code; discovery of an intention to commit an act that violates the honor code.
Major offense: An offense that threatens the confidentiality of The Point; any attempt to remove Point technology or medication from the compound; unsolicited aggression toward a staff member.
First Basic Offense: Two hours observation with one extra duty, no lunch.
First Major Offense: Physical reprimand, two hours in the Chamber.
Second Basic Offense: One day observation with three extra duties, no breakfast or lunch.
Second Major Offense: Physical reprimand, one day in the Chamber, no rations.
Third Basic Offense: One week observation with three extra duties, two hours in the Chamber.
Third Major Offense: Physical reprimand, three days in the Chamber, no rations.
Fourth Basic Offense: Inhibition, expulsion, transfer to The Farm.
Fourth Major Offense: Physical reprimand, one week in the Chamber, no rations, transfer to The Farm, chemical processing, stasis.
She sat up straighter and reread the punishments. Okay, so this explained—cryptically, at least—the tension simmering between the guards and the cadets, but what did it all mean?
What constituted a physical reprimand?
She was surprised by the withholding of food—was that even legal?
What was the Chamber?
The final block, punishments for fourth offenses, bothered her most of all. What was The Farm? Chemical processing? Stasis?
The hallway outside the door filled with music.
She rose from her cot and went to the door and looked out the small window but saw nothing. Just the empty corridor and a few indistinct faces looking out from their cell windows.
She recognized the sad, tinny bugle music from funerals she’d attended with her parents. It was taps.
The second the music ended, darkness fell. Scarlett huffed with surprise. The hall, her room, everything had gone pitch black.
She crossed the darkness carefully but still stubbed her toe getting into bed. Exhaustion pressed her into the thin mattress. At least she’d glanced at the knowledge book. If the cadre quizzed them in the morning, she was bound to know more than someone. That would be the key here. Don’t be the worst or the best. Hide in the middle.
She drifted off but woke a short time later to someone whispering her name.
“Winter,” a male voice said. “Hey, Winter.”
Scarlett sat up in the darkness, confused. The voice sounded like it was coming from outside the door. She called, “Hello? Who’s—hey!”
She jolted back against the wall. Someone had poked her in the side. Someone was in the dark with her. “Who’s there?”
She heard laughter in the hall. More than one voi
ce.
Then the whisperer said her name again, drawing it out. “Wiiiiinterrrrr…”
Scarlett didn’t like the taunting tone or the laughter. It sounded like a few people out in the hall. But someone had poked her. How had anyone gotten inside without waking her?
Someone had jabbed her in the thigh.
“Hey,” she said, startled. She pushed out defensively but hit nothing.
The people in the hall thought this was hilarious.
“What’s the matter, Winter?”
In the corridor, a flashlight clicked to life. Hopkins held it beneath his chin. His leering face, illuminated in a Halloween show of light and shadow, pressed against the window. Vague countenances pushed in to either side of his, toothy moons with staring eyes.
“You afraid of the dark?” Hopkins asked. He turned his light and pressed it to the glass.
“Leave me alone,” she said, shielding her eyes, but even half blind, she knew the unnerving truth: poking or no poking, she was alone in the room. They’d jabbed her from out there. She was locked in this cell and completely at the mercy of their telekinetic whims.
“No speaking out of turn, New Cadet,” Hopkins said. “I asked you a direct question. Answer promptly and efficiently and end your response with ‘sir.’ Now…are you afraid of the dark?”
“No, sir,” she said, doing her best to block the bright light.
“Well,” Hopkins said, “we’ll change that.”
The first strike knocked the wind out of her. The next blow shoved her from the cot. She hit the hard ground, cursing, and they were on her. Their attacks thumped into her like pillows soaked in half-hardened cement.
There was no way to fight back. She tried to stand and was knocked down again. She tried to push and kick, but that only exposed her to the blows. Ultimately, she curled into a ball and covered her face, thinking, Don’t cry out, no matter what. Don’t give them the satisfaction.