Powerless: The Synthesis

by Jason Letts

  Kevin nodded his head and took the document. She added that he needed to return it once it had Corey’s seal.

  “Thank you for your help,” Mira said to the room, already knowing that everyone would be watching her leave.

  Descending the stone staircase back to the courtyard, both Kevin and Mira enjoyed the satisfaction of their accomplishment.

  “Look at that, a senior already. Cut the foreplay and get right down to business, right?” Kevin joked, and Mira smiled.

  “Do you want to see your new schoolhouse?” Kevin asked. Mira nodded her head.

  “Ok, I’m going to set up a meeting with Corey. I’ll tell you how to get there. Head outside of the gate and—”

  “You mean alone?” she asked. Kevin walked down another step so he could stand eye to eye with his daughter.

  “We’re not always going to be around to protect you, and if you’re going to be walking to and from school everyday then you might as well get used to it. Remember, no one knows who you are, so they won’t know you’re any different unless you tell them.”

  Mira nodded her head, swallowing the necessity of it.

  “Good, now from the corner of the outpost closest to the forest, you’ll see a small path marked with a large white stone. Just follow that path and you’ll get there, ok?”

  Mira nodded her head, gave her father a hug, and watched him slip underground.

  ***

  All on her own, Mira slowly meandered through the courtyard, peeking over someone’s shoulder here and doing a little eavesdropping there.

  One man in particular caught her attention. Wearing quite a lot of metal plating, he leaned against the wall outside of the Darmen Exchange office. His eyes scanned the crowd, and Mira wasn’t sure which one of them was the fearful one. Still, the people entering and exiting the office paid him little attention, dangerous or no. He looked to be in his twenties, making Mira realize that she had not seen another person that age.

  Leaving the courtyard behind and walking through the gate, she turned left and strolled toward the edge of the forest.

  She came across a large piece of marble with dark streaks cutting through it. A path lay just next to it, and Mira decided this must be her path. Before setting down it, she noticed a slightly smaller granite rock nearby with another path, and a slightly smaller limestone rock with its own path. Taking a moment to examine this place, she admired all of the rocks and their paths. The rocks got smaller and smaller down to a hefty chunk of quartz and volcanic glass. The paths, some of them criss-crossing only a few feet in, looked so jumbled and bunched that they couldn’t possibly lead to different destinations.

  Tempted as she was to pursue every single path, surmising that each led to the schoolhouse of a different grade, Mira returned to the large white piece of marble, which was almost as tall as she was, and started down its narrow path. Leafy boughs hung overhead and stray branches vainly tried to stop her. The sounds of the forest, the birds, a babbling stream, the wind in the leaves, enveloped her.

  Walking farther in, and feeling the sanctity and contentment of her environment fully, a jarring and unpleasant sound suddenly invaded her peace. A pair of voices, shouting, carried themselves to Mira’s ear. Taking another twist of the path, the forest revealed a clearing, a frail-looking wooden structure, and two teens having a heated argument.

  “That’s not how you do it at all! Don’t you know anything?”

  “It would work if you would just listen to me and stop being such a baby!”

  Mira froze, trying to remain concealed and hoping to get away before being seen. But her first step in retreat landed on a crunchy leaf, which sounded like the cracking of bones.

  “Who is that?” the girl yelled.

  “I don’t know,” said the boy, still arguing, but he turned to see what it was. Feeling she had been caught, Mira emerged.

  “Hi. I’m sorry. Is this the senior schoolhouse?” she asked timidly of the approaching figures.

  “Yes, yes it is. What’s your name?” said a handsome, stringy boy of dark complexion.

  “My name is Mira Ipswich. I’m going to be going to school here,” she said. The boy smiled.

  “Oh, great! My name is Vern Porter. It’s nice to meet you,” shaking hands with her. “Who are you?” he asked.

  The question had come so quick and it caught her off guard, but Mira remembered the words she heard in the blackness of the tent: Your greatest strength can be in hiding your weakness.

  “Oh, you don’t want to know what I can do. It’s dangerous!” she boasted. The boy mustered a suspicious smirk. “Well you can’t be more powerful than Aoi here, or else they would have taken you away to the capitol a long time ago,” he said, referring to the tiny, black-haired girl with two sizable front teeth beside him. “She is as strong as her heartbeat.” But before Mira could even begin to ponder what that meant, the girl had already stuck out her hand.

  “My name’s Aoi Watanabe. It’s nice to meet you,” she said through a devious smile. Hesitantly, Mira reached out and took her hand, ready to say that it was nice to meet her, but her hand was crushed in the shake and something very different came out.

  “Oww!”

  “It’s pronounced “owie,” actually,” Aoi said, emphasizing the final vowel sound and then giggling to herself. Mira immediately knew she wasn’t the first person to fall victim to this. Vern, again, looked mildly amused.

  “Ok, you don’t have to tell us now, but you won’t be able to hide for long. We’ll have the Tournament Trial as soon as class starts and it’ll have to come out then. But I predict the result won’t be too different from last year,” he gloated. Aoi scowled at him with piercing, malicious eyes.

  “Yes, of course, the Tournament Trial,” Mira fibbed. “I know all about that. What happened last year, anyway?”

  At this, Aoi erupted. “If I could have just gotten my hands on you, you would have had a mouthful of dirt!” The venom in her voice startled Mira, but Aoi calmed down and shifted her attention to Mira. “Vern has an attractive force, so you think it would be easy to get near him, but it’s not. And that’s why he’s class leader—because he finished the year top of the class—and I’m not…yet.”

  A distinctly smug and satisfied expression formed on Vern’s face as he folded his arms. Mira wanted to know more about what “an attractive force” meant. But Vern’s grin enraged Aoi and she went off before Mira could say anything. “Things are going to be different this year. So you can just wipe that look off your face!”

  “Maybe the real reason you’re upset is that Fortst asked me to help out because I’m class leader, and you’re here as punishment.”

  “What are you being punished for?” Mira asked, unabashedly curious.

  Aoi hung her head and spoke very softly, in almost a whisper. “I may have accidentally broken something.”

  “It was a house, Aoi!” Vern boomed.

  “I break things! Ok? It happens. They shouldn’t have made that house like that. It was just asking to be knocked over. It wasn’t my fault!”

  “What do you mean it wasn’t your fault? Everyone saw you drop kick it.” Aoi just shook her head, fuming. Mira decided to change the subject.

  “So what are you doing here, anyway?”

  Both Vern and Aoi turned to look at what they had walked away from when Mira arrived. A group of large boulders and some divots in the ground lay before the entrance of the schoolhouse. Whatever they were doing, it didn’t look like much progress had been made.

  “We’re trying to make a pathway leading to the entrance. But we’re not having any luck getting these stones into the ground.”

  Mira walked over to analyze the work area. She couldn’t be sure, but she guessed that they had been digging up these boulders and then trying to press them back into the ground, leaving half-buried rocks that were still half as tall as Mira.

  “How are you moving these rocks around?” Mira asked. “Oh,” she added after Aoi put her hands toget
her. “Why don’t you try breaking the rocks into pieces? If you can lift them up, and then bring them down hard on another rock. That should create some flat surfaces along the break point. If you carve out thin slices from these rocks you will only have to do a tiny bit of digging to set them in the ground.”

  Vern and Aoi, resumed their places in the workspace, reasoning that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Mira, hustling out of the way, watched as Aoi yanked a boulder that was as large as she was out of the ground and held it in her outstretched arms. Vern shouted directions to her and she maneuvered over toward another stone.

  Once in place, Aoi slammed the stone down as hard as she could. The rock cleaved in two. Without a word, Aoi went about preparing to shatter the remaining pieces and the other stones.

  Only then did Mira finally get a chance to fully survey the schoolhouse she had come to look at. Her notion of an impressive institution of learning met with resounding disappointment. The building before her had thin wooden boards that light could sneak through, an uneven cement foundation, and a shingled roof that surely leaked.

  Getting the okay from Vern to go inside, Mira walked up the three cement steps to the door, which had a basic metal latch. Opening it, she felt even she could break it without much effort, and rust from the latch rubbed off on her hand. Inside, fifteen desks stood before a lectern. A heavy black board hung against the far wall, which had caused a crack in one of the wallboards, allowing in more light. A few materials, some for teaching and some for repair, lay in the far corner.

  The only point of interest for Mira was a bird’s nest nestled up in the rafters, but that led to droppings that found their way onto a few of the desks. Mira sat down in one of the uncomfortable wooden seats, listening to the crashing of rocks outside and trying to find something optimistic in this disappointing place.

  She thought about the two students she would be studying with, Vern and Aoi. The one seemed full of himself and the other much too volatile. Maybe the rest of the students would be easier to get along with. The promise of having a real teacher stirred some delight within her. Even the dullest, dreariest setting could be transformed under the guidance of a thoughtful and inspiring teacher.

  Feeling like she had seen enough, Mira left her seat and went for the door. Outside, Mira’s eyes widened. Thin stone slabs speckled the ground and a number of shallow holes had already been made. The work would be finished in no time. She walked along the edge of the forest, sure to stay out of the way. Before leaving, she turned to address the pair still hard at work.

  “It was nice to meet you. Good luck with the path!”

  Sadly, neither of them broke their focus longer than to mumble a quick “yeah, bye.” So much for immediately striking up deep friendships, she lamented.

  ***

  Retracing her steps along the forest path, Mira returned to the gate of Corey Outpost, where her father patiently waited for her. They immediately began the walk home, and Mira noticed her father behaving meekly.

  “So did everything go alright with the form?” she asked, surprised to be the first person to speak.

  Kevin roused himself. “No problem at all,” he said. “The meeting will be soon and then you’ll officially be a member of the class. How was the schoolhouse? You’re going to be spending a lot of time there, you know.”

  But the building hadn’t left as memorable an impression as something else. “Two students were there, a boy and a girl, and we talked for a few minutes. I just realized that’s the first time I’ve ever spoken to anyone my own age.”

  Kevin searched her face for clues to how she felt about this. But she kept her face free from any significant expression. “How were they?” he asked.

  “The girl had a very big temper for how small she is. And the boy? Well, I think it would be difficult for me to like him more than he likes himself.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends in the class even if those two aren’t a perfect match for you,” he said.

  They walked along in silence for a while, each pondering the experiences they just had. Mira only posed another question when they had just reached their home.

  “Dad, what’s the Tournament Trial?”

  Kevin’s eyes widened and then he winced.

  “In each school year, all of the students are pitted against each other three times. The first and the last are to decide class rank. You’ll have to beat the others in special contests to demonstrate your ability and aptitude. Having a good class rank is very important to a student,” he said, almost in fear of his own words.

  The image of massive boulders crashing together came to Mira’s mind, and her mouth went dry.

  “Oh.”

  Chapter 4: The Blood Stone

  Long after Mira and Jeana had fallen asleep, Kevin silently snuck out of the house and slipped into the blustery and turbulent night. Clouds raced overhead, waiting for the right moment to expel their watery store. A bright moon peeked through, giving everything a fleeting illumination.

  Hidden beneath a dark cloak, he crept along the side of his house, keeping his ears open and his eyes vigilant. The mist in the air solidified in front of him, and Kevin stepped on to the dense platform and let it carry him into the air. The wind raced around him as he floated over the treetops on his way down to the outpost. When he descended near the large gate, the mist dissipated just in time for him to step onto the ground.

  Kevin ran along the wall away from the forest to a small shed hidden around the corner. As soon as he closed the door behind him, a heavy rain broke from the clouds, clacking against the shed’s tin roof and washing under the walls onto the dirt floor.

  Striking a match softened the shed’s darkness. Its flickering light revealed the cramped space he inhabited, containing a few broken tools and some rope along with a metal sheet on the floor. The sheet, Kevin knew, sealed the passageway through which he needed to pass.

  Before the match diminished, Kevin spoke clearly and confidently to the dying light. “My name is Kevin Ipswich. I have business with Corey. Whither does my voice travel?”

  Having followed the instructions he’d received, he waited for what would come next. The rattling rain on the roof drowned out any other sound. A rumbling, emanating sound escaped from below him. He kneeled down to listen.

  “A key above the door.” The voice sounded hoarse and raspy but unmistakable. Without lighting another match, Kevin groped above the entryway in darkness. His hands ran over the moistened wood and up to the gritty metal. Pawing at a small pouch tucked up above, he felt the key dance between his fingers as gravity sucked it down to the floor.

  Chasing after the slight clink with his hands, he brushed over the ground for the key. Just as he felt the silliness of his posture and considered lighting another match, his fingers felt the key and he took hold of it. Within moments the metal sheet and its lock leaned against the wall.

  Knowing one end of the rope firmly held an iron bar attached to the outpost’s exterior, Kevin tossed the coil down the hole. Grabbing hold of the section near the surface, he slowly lowered himself down, feeling uneasy about the wet rope, the water trickling from above, and the slick surface he placed his feet on.

  Dreading that he would slip, his feet lost their hold on the wall and he dangled in the middle of a dark tunnel, the depth of which he did not know. At once resolved that this danger was entirely unnecessary, Kevin rested his feet on a cloud that had condensed in the tunnel under his feet. Feeling much more at home, he descended slowly, until he felt the floor beneath him.

  In utter darkness, he spun around looking for a light to guide him. Only perfect darkness revealed itself. Having given up hope of finding the way himself, he asked for help.

  “Turn ninety degrees to the left and walk for thirty paces.” The same voice, ruminating and echoing, seemed to come from all directions at once.

  He followed the directions, and asked again, repeating the process countless times. Often the voice commanded him to turn
sharply and walk only a few steps, making him wonder if he maneuvered through a large maze or foolishly wandered around in a great open space.

  Soon he stopped walking with his hands in front of him. After several more commands, he closed his eyes. Taking a few more steps and noticing a sudden increase in temperature, Kevin opened his eyes and realized that the man he’d been searching for sat just a few feet away. The light from a small fire smoldered behind the seated man, who sat peacefully with a blindfold over his eyes. Looking behind him, Kevin saw that the chair blocked the light from entering the corridor.

  “This is where your voice has traveled.” The old man said, wrinkling his face with a smile. Kevin had never been in the exclusive company of the elder before; he tried to match the man’s appearance with his revered reputation, the source of reason and knowledge that the entire community depended upon. But seeing the shriveled body before him somehow detracted from that.

  “I’ve come about my daughter. She needs your permission to attend the academy,” Kevin said. The old man nodded his head, already in deep thought.

  “If it had just been that, I would have had an assistant take care of you. But that’s not all you needed to discuss,” he said.

  “That’s right. There’s something else—”

  “Something more serious,” Corey added before returning to the beginning. “But I was surprised to hear about the daughter you’ve been hiding, and more so of her circumstances. I’ve heard her, you know. Her footsteps are hesitant and there is much fear and doubt tangled within the waves of her voice.”

  His voice imitated Mira’s, and Kevin looked carefully at the man, listening to the heavy words that forcibly entered his ear. Assuming Kevin’s voice, the words Corey spoke haunted Kevin’s mind and drowned out his own thoughts.

  “In a race, sound will always lose to light, but sound is much more vital to our existence. After all, we can create sound, but we can’t create light. Most people foolishly depend on light to tell them about the external appearance and the internal emotions of others, but sound is a much better indicator. I can recognize your daughter, Mira, without a doubt and clearly interpret her emotions from just a few words. And the same goes for you, Mr. Ipswich. Now tell me, why did you let your bird out of the cage?”