On Through the Never

by Melissa E. Hurst

  “Damn,” Zed drawls out. I glance up to find that he’s checking the DataNet feed, too.

  “Well, that explains everything,” Tara says. She runs her hands over her black curls, then down the sides of her face. “Can you imagine what it’ll be like back at the Academy?” She groans. “You guys, I forgot my new roommate is supposed to arrive today. They couldn’t have picked a worse day to pass this stupid law. I bet she is wilding out right now.”

  There are almost always a dozen or so Purists protesting outside the main building at the Academy, but I’m willing to bet that number is going to be way bigger today. I sigh heavily and scroll through the feed some more. Across the whole North American Federation, Purists have taken to the streets. I find out that several particularly nasty demonstrations are taking place outside the DTA headquarters in Chicago, New York, Mexico City, Ottawa, and, of course, New Denver. What I wouldn’t give to be a Space Bender right now so I could just shift straight to my quarters instead of going through them.

  “I don’t like this. Not at all,” Elijah says, looking up from his DataLink. “I get why they’re mad and all that, but do they really think these protests are going to accomplish anything?”

  I think back to the protest we just witnessed in 2076 and suppress a shudder. What I just saw on the DataNet was like an eerie echo of things that happened prior to the Second Civil War.

  “I don’t feel sorry for them one bit. It’s their own fault for refusing modifications. They’re furing crazy not to have them,” Zed says.

  Elijah shrugs. “That’s true, man, but to punish them for that choice? That’s not fair either.”

  “Oh, come on! You can’t really feel sorry for them. They’re insane!” Zed snaps, then looks at me. “Don’t you agree, Bridger?”

  I don’t say anything for a moment. I’m no fan of Purists. I hate their hostility toward Gen Mods. And it doesn’t make sense that they choose to live without genetic modifications. They could enjoy nearly perfect health. The ability to heal rapidly, greater intelligence, and increased memory. The ability to withstand harsh environments and survive without food for longer periods of time. Things like that. The Purists’ logic states that it’s fundamentally wrong to tamper with humanity’s natural abilities.

  But on the other hand, what were the politicians thinking? You don’t just hit a hornet’s nest and expect not to be stung.

  Before I can reply, Professor Kapoor yells, “Attention cadets!” We fall silent immediately. “Please strap in and prepare for takeoff.”

  After we’ve latched our harnesses into place, Zed asks me again, “So? What do you think about all this?”

  “It doesn’t really matter what I think,” I say. “What matters is not getting caught up in this mess. Nothing good can come out of it.”

  Elijah slaps me on the knee. “Man, that’s the most sense you’ve made in a long time.”

  I get this flash of irritation. What’s that supposed to mean? I know we haven’t been as close as before, but nothing I’ve done lately has been stupid. I’ve followed the rules. I’m taking my meds every day. I’m doing everything I can to be a model cadet. How could that not make sense?

  The plane begins to take flight. As we soar into the air and circle the city, I glance down at the ground below. It looks so peaceful and calm. So unlike the chaos we witnessed earlier.

  Then I catch sight of the Texas State Capitol. There’s a large crowd gathering on the green area surrounding the building.

  Things are about to get ugly again.

  A little while later, we land in New Denver, then take a transport shuttle back to the Academy. As soon as we’re back in the air, Professor Holland gets up. His head nearly brushes the top of the shuttle, so when he stands, everybody notices.

  “Attention cadets,” he begins in his deep voice. “We’ve been informed that, due to a larger than normal crowd of protestors at the Academy, you’re to disembark from the shuttle and stay with your team leader. We will escort you around the back of the main building and in through the med facilities.”

  It’s so quiet that I swear I can hear my own heartbeat. A cadet near the front of the shuttle raises his hand.

  “Yes?” the professor asks.

  “Sir, how bad is it?” he asks. He sounds worried. Just like everyone else.

  Professor Holland glances back at the other team leaders, and Professor Kapoor nods slightly.

  He clears his throat before continuing, “I’m not going to lie; it’s intense right now. But you should be perfectly safe. Chancellor Tyson has arranged for extra security. You shouldn’t have to face much more than a lot of extra noise.”

  “Will we be able to go home this weekend?” Tara asks.

  “At this time, I’m not positive. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. Now, are there any more questions?”

  Nobody says anything. Out the front window, we’ve all spotted the massive Academy for Time Travel and Research main building. Beyond it are the Rockies. It all looks deceptively calm and normal.

  And then we see the crowd. Holy fure, it’s huge. It looks like several hundred Purists, at least, are waiting for us.

  This is not going to be fun.

  Once the shuttle has landed, the first thing we hear is what sounds like a dull roar. Definitely not good. If the Purists are that loud, they must have worked themselves up into a furious mob.

  Professor Holland speaks again. “I’ve just received word that we will be escorted into the main building by DTA soldiers.”

  I can’t help but notice how pale he looks. Almost everybody looks sick and scared. Except for Zed—he is fired up.

  “I bet I could kick any of those Purists’ asses,” he says with a sneer.

  “Oh, grow up, Zed,” Tara snaps. “I’d like to see you try to take on all of them.”

  I feel like all my energy has suddenly evaporated, hearing Tara say that. It’s so similar to something Vika would have said to Zed. I remember how Vika called him out on whistling at some ghosts when we traveled back in time to record President Foster’s assassination last year. The very day that she died.

  My stomach sinks, remembering. I shouldn’t have left her alone that day. I should have stayed with her.

  After a few minutes, the professors stand. Each one summons their assigned cadets and they exit the shuttle together. I raise my eyebrows a bit as I see Elijah take Tara’s hand as she leans in closer to him. I wonder if they’re dating now. He never said anything to me.

  But then I turn my attention back to the window and my palms begin to sweat. The first team is surrounded by four soldiers dressed in dark-gray uniforms. Space Benders. They quickly march toward the grassy area behind the main building, instead of going in the front entrance like we usually do.

  Finally, Professor Kapoor says, “My team, let’s go.”

  My legs feel weak when I stand. I tell myself to man up. We have armed escorts. Nothing will happen to us.

  But the instant we step off the shuttle, it’s clear how bad the situation is. The transport lot is adjacent to the main building, so we have a close-up view of the protestors. This gathering is way smaller than the protest in 2076, but the noise level is still intense. These Purists are seriously unhappy. Dad used to say that angry people made rash decisions—decisions that could harm other people.

  Another thing we notice is the string of soldiers standing between the protestors and the campus, all wearing riot gear and carrying weapons. My mouth goes desert dry. This isn’t right. We’re supposed to travel to the past to witness stuff like this. We shouldn’t be living it.

  Our escorts surround us, and we begin the trek to the back side of the building. My heart thuds as fast as my footsteps. Zed mutters something under his breath. I glance around. Normally at this time of the day, there would be cadets all over the campus. Hanging out with their friends. But nobody is outside now.

  As we round the corner of the building, we hear a familiar noise—like a gunshot.

  �
�Run!” one of the soldiers yells.

  Somebody screams. I don’t know who. It could have been another cadet. It could have been me. All I can do is move. One foot in front of another. Keep moving. Keep running.

  Once we’re inside the building, I almost collapse. It’s too hot in here. Too many people pressed against me. Too hard to breathe.

  Then I see her. Vika. Standing with a dark-haired woman on the other side of the lobby. No, it can’t be her. Not here. She’s dead. I see that image of her again, the one where she’s lying on a grassy ground with a gunshot wound in her forehead.

  Oh no. No. No. No. I can’t be losing my mind again. I gasp for air.

  Vaguely, I hear Zed yelling for Professor Kapoor. Then there’s a slight sting at my neck. Then nothing.

  4

  ALORA

  FEBRUARY 10, 2147

  “Did you hear that?” I ask, my head snapping to the left, where Lieutenant Rivera is standing. She barely nods. For once, she’s speechless. I don’t blame her; I can’t believe what I’m witnessing myself.

  After Chancellor Tyson was informed about the deteriorating situation outside, he ordered the Academy to lock down. Now we’re waiting in the lobby of the Academy’s main building, along with dozens of other people—including a team of cadets that just returned from a time trip—watching the protest taking place through the outer glass wall. Nobody is talking or moving because it sounds like a gun was just fired outside.

  The scene in front of me looks like something out of the many Sims I’ve experienced over the past several months, while learning about the recent history of the North American Federation. Protestors screaming, some openly attacking the soldiers assigned to keep the peace. And in return, a few soldiers have started tossing canisters into the crowd. Soon a thick fog encases everyone, making it more difficult to see them and forcing them to flee the noxious fumes. The soldiers, all wearing masks, move through the crowd to arrest anyone not dispersing.

  I feel like I could puke. This shouldn’t be happening. Not in the present. I worry about protestors somehow getting in here, or a stray bullet piercing the glass, but I remember how Lieutenant Rivera said on my tour earlier that the glass in all DTA buildings is bulletproof. Nothing can destroy it, short of an explosion.

  Someone touches my right shoulder. I recoil from the contact and pivot around to find a dark-haired woman in an emerald green and khaki uniform standing behind me. It’s my mother. I’m so shocked that I can’t speak.

  Mom inhales sharply and says in a wavering voice, “Oh sweet heavens, you’re safe. I thought you had been caught up in one of the protests somewhere.” She folds me into a warm hug that envelops me with a familiar scent—lavender.

  I want to feel safe in her arms, want to pretend I’m a little girl again and she can make everything better. But that’s just a fairy tale for me. I pull away from her, a frown tugging my lips down. “Where have you been? I arrived hours ago.”

  A sour look crosses Mom’s face. “I’ve been here for several hours already. I took off work early because I knew you were arriving today. The chancellor let me wait in a private waiting room, so I could be more comfortable until you arrived. I had no idea you were already here.”

  I whirl around to face Lieutenant Rivera. “Did you know my mom was being kept waiting?”

  She shakes her head, eyes wide. “I promise, I didn’t know. I apologize, Ms. Mason.”

  “Well, at least I’m with my daughter now,” Mom replies, putting an arm around me again.

  “When do you think we’ll be able to leave?” I ask Lieutenant Rivera.

  Glancing back to the protestors in front of the building, the lieutenant slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know. Probably not anytime soon.” Her eyes flick momentarily to me. “I can’t believe how quickly things have spiraled of control. It was just a few hours ago that I heard that the RCA had been approved—and now this.”

  “I can believe it,” Mom says. “Humanity will always make the same mistakes. You would think that being able to travel to the past and learn from it would cure of us of that, but it hasn’t.”

  “Oh, absolutely. Purists haven’t learned anything,” Rivera says. She continues to rant about how they’re going to destroy the country again if the government doesn’t do something about them. I want to ask what the RCA is, and why it’s ignited so much anger among the Purists in such a short time, but I can’t get a word in. That’s so typical of her. When she thinks she’s right, there is no shutting her up.

  I take a few steps away from Mom and Rivera, activate my DataLink, and search for information about the RCA, promptly finding out more than I want to know. Because of the RCA, Purists will now have to pay higher taxes, have higher medical costs, and be charged more for goods and services. All because they’re now considered a “drain on society.” Wow, talk about discrimination. Honestly, I really don’t blame the Purists for being so pissed.

  It takes the sound of shouting behind us to silence Lieutenant Rivera. I whirl around. On the other side of the lobby, several people are kneeling, staring down at someone sprawled out on the floor. I stand on my tiptoes to get a better view. And since I’m cursed with being so short, I can’t see what’s going on. My first thought is that someone was injured outside—maybe even shot.

  “I’ll find out what’s going on,” the lieutenant says before she slips through the crowd in direction of the injured person. I watch her and try to tune out the anxious chatter that’s now sweeping the area.

  Mom, still close to me, wraps her fingers around my right hand and squeezes gently. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure it’s nothing major. Lots of people panic when there’s a stressful situation.”

  While I’m happy to be with Mom, what I really want right now is to be alone. That’s always been my default when I’m under stress. I can remember running through a densely packed forest in my old life, and how it made me feel less tense. I wonder where I can go here to get the same sense of freedom. The temptation to shift somewhere private is overwhelming, but I force myself to forget about it. At least Chancellor Tyson forgot to shackle me with an Inhibitor once the receptionist told him about the escalating tensions outside.

  A few minutes later, Lieutenant Rivera returns, appearing a bit more animated that she was before. “Turns out it’s nothing. One of the cadets couldn’t handle all the excitement and had a panic attack. His professor administered a large dose of Calmer.”

  “Calmer shouldn’t make someone completely pass out,” Mom replies, frowning.

  And I want to add that there’s nothing exciting about all of this. Nothing at all.

  “Maybe so, but under the circumstances I’d rather have him unconscious than creating havoc in here. Wouldn’t you agree?” she asks.

  “I suppose so,” Mom says with a heavy sigh.

  Mom and Rivera might think that’s okay, but I don’t. That could have easily been me, a few months ago. I had my fair share of Calmer forced on me when I was first rescued, and I didn’t like it. Even now, I have to take it occasionally. Thankfully that doesn’t happen often. Though I wonder if a dose would help me right now. Maybe going zombie for a little while would make all of this a little more bearable.

  A doc from the med facilities upstairs arrives. She directs two medics to pick up the cadet and place him on a stretcher. They begin pushing their way through the crowd, heading to the elevators next to us.

  When they reach us, I get a good look at the boy and get a weird, fluttery sensation in my stomach, almost like déjà vu. I’ve never seen him before, but I feel like I should know him. He has dark brown hair and his skin is almost as pale as mine. I wonder what color his eyes are and suddenly think brown. They’re brown.

  “Mom, do you know him?” I ask after the medics step into the nearest elevator and the door slides shut.

  “No,” she says in a tight voice. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  Two hours later, Mom and I finally board one of the last shuttles scheduled to tran
sport people from the Academy to New Denver. I search the small interior and spot two empty seats near the back. It’s filled with both adults and cadets. One of them, a girl with curly black hair and brown skin, stares at me in surprise. I quickly look away and focus on getting to my seat.

  Chancellor Tyson wouldn’t let any cadets leave without one of their parents or guardians to accompany them. A lot of cadets were furious that they had to wait at the Academy until someone came for them.

  Once the protestors had been cleared out, Chancellor Tyson ended the lockdown. I was thrilled to finally get away from Lieutenant Rivera, but I admit that leaving the safety of the main building was terrifying. As I headed to my quarters to retrieve my portacase and coat, I kept thinking, what if some protestors were hiding in the shadows, waiting to ambush us? Which was ridiculous because the soldiers had searched the campus before we were allowed to leave.

  Once we’re finally seated and the shuttle is in the air, I look around again. Everyone on the shuttle is subdued, even Mom. She’s scrolling through the news feed on her DataLink, like most everyone else around us. Suddenly she frowns.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “The governor just announced a statewide curfew. We have to be home by eleven o’clock.” She pauses and pats my hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Me either, sweetheart. Me either.”

  I check the time on my DataLink. It’s a little after nine-thirty right now. Mom told me earlier that the ride to New Denver only takes fifteen minutes and her apartment is a few blocks from the terminal, so we should have more than enough time to get there. Still, I can’t shake the discomfort clinging to me. I’ve never experienced anything like this—the violent protests, the curfew. This whole situation is so messed up. Coming to the Academy was supposed to be my first step toward freedom. And yet, a tiny part of me wishes I could go back to my life in Chicago. It was boring and suffocating, but at least it was safe.