by Sophie Davis
“I would welcome a girl of your caliber,” Dr. Masterson told Leslie. Then she turned to Gregor, and Cressa noticed a small, beige disc over the doctor’s right temple. It was no larger than Cressa’s thumbnail and blended in almost seamlessly with Dr. Masterson’s skin. Curious, Cressa squinted for a better look. As if sensing Cressa’s gaze, the doctor quickly smoothed her blue-black hair over the disc and continued speaking to Gregor.
“Cadet Ivan, it is my understanding that your manipulation abilities are progressing nicely, and that you are considering a future in our neuro-therapy unit?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gregor replied stiffly.
“Wonderful,” Dr. Masterson replied, though her tone was still flat as ever. “There is a newly minted 2P male in cubicle eight, a Cadet Leonard. The injection procedure is complete and was successful, though the cadet may be suffering adjustment rejection. Dr. Wythe is speaking with him now to determine whether a mental block is appropriate at this juncture; I believe it would advantageous for you to observe.”
“Thank you, ma’am. It would be an honor,” Gregor said deferentially. With that, he turned and headed for cubicle eight.
Cressa watched him walk away, once again filling with dread. She’d never heard of a mental block. It sounded ominous, particularly when used in the same breath as a phrase like “adjustment rejection.” In Cressa’s mind, the latter was just a clinical way of saying that Cadet Leonard wasn’t picking up what the Institute was putting down. Even though Cressa couldn’t recall meeting the cadet in question, her heart went out to him. Doubts were normal. Cressa had experienced them herself, as she imagined every other cadet did. But the Dame demanded one hundred percent loyalty and devotion, and it appeared her underlings were prepared to take drastic measures to ensure compliance.
“It is already quite late in the day, it would be best if we got started,” Dr. Masterson told Cressa.
Fighting the urge to make a run for it, Cressa nodded mutely and followed the doctor inside the exam room.
The incubation chamber sat in the middle of the space, looking as harmless and non-threatening as a baby lamb. Still, Cressa felt as though the machine was taunting her with its quiet whirring noises and bright buttons. As she engaged in a staring match with the machine, the sound of Leslie closing the door made Cressa jump. The glass walls of the room frosted over, effectively shielding her from the outside world.
This should have made Cressa feel better; at least no one aside from Leslie and the doctor would be able to ogle her while she was locked inside the chamber. Instead, the opaque walls made Cressa feel trapped. She took several deep, calming breaths, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth like her guru had shown her back home.
Eye on the prize, she thought. This is what you’re here for.
Dr. Masterson pointed to the solitary chair in the corner of the room, where a medical smock sat folded on the cushioned seat. “You may change now, Cadet Karmine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cressa crossed to the chair, heart pounding a frantic rhythm in her chest. She pulled the privacy curtain that hung from the ceiling closed and started to undress.
“How did you feel during your test today?” Dr. Masterson called from the other side.
“Pretty good,” Cressa lied. The entire time she’d been in that dark room, she’d felt shaky and on edge. Her stomach had ached and her head throbbed. But there was no way Cressa was going to admit discomfort. She didn’t want the doctor to think she was complaining or showing signs of weakness, just in case those might be grounds for dismissal.
“You did not experience any trouble at all?” Masterson persisted. “You felt completely normal?”
“Yes, I was fine,” Cressa answered.
“Your vitals indicated otherwise,” Dr. Masterson replied, the faintest hint of amusement in her tone.
Cringing at being caught in a lie, she slid the strange silky fabric of the smock over her head. How did she know what my vitals were during the test? Cressa wondered. She hadn’t been wearing sensors.
“It is normal to experience a wide range of physical symptoms when using your abilities,” Masterson continued, sounding as if she were awkwardly reading from cue cards. “In fact, we expect it. An elevated heart rate, increased temperature, heightened agitation—these are all perfectly acceptable responses when employing your talents. In fact, the strength of these symptoms is directly correlated to the strength of your gifts. An absence of these side effects would indicate that the recipient may not be compatible with her new powers.”
“O-oh,” Cressa replied, for lack of anything else to say.
“In the future, it is imperative that you are honest with me,” the doctor said. “The exam rooms measure your vital signs during the exams. For instance, if your temperature increases, the thermal receptors in the room are able to detect that increase. All the data is tracked, allowing me to monitor and understand your response to the serum. So, as you can see, lying is pointless.”
Dressed in the smock, Cressa emerged from behind the privacy curtain to find Dr. Masterson studying a monitor mounted on the wall. Numbers and letters scrolled across the screen, all of which were gibberish to Cressa.
“These are your levels from the first implantation,” Dr. Masterson explained, though she didn’t elaborate further. She nodded toward the dreaded chamber. “Shall we begin?”
Knowing that it was actually time to enter it, memories flooded Cressa’s mind: lying on the cool, hard slab of plastic and staring up at the dome directly above her nose, the sides of the tube seeming to inch closer with each passing breath; the metallic feel of the chemicals running through her veins, searing her insides; stomach cramps that made her body convulse; hot flashes chasing cold sweats that stung her eyes and soaked through her smock.
Dr. Masterson’s firm touch on the small of her back brought Cressa back to the present.
You can do this. You lived through it once, you can survive it again. The end result justifies the torturous means.
“This second procedure will be much easier for your body to handle. We have already determined that you are a good host, and your performance during the Phase One exam proved that you retain power well. Just try to relax,” Dr. Masterson coached Cressa in soothing tones. “Cadet Abbot, your assistance would be greatly appreciated,” the doctor added as she guided Cressa towards the chamber.
The top half of the tube rose several feet into the air, creating enough space for Cressa to climb on to the table within. She drew in another deep breath and took the hand Dr. Masterson offered to help her up. The breathing exercise seemed to be working this time; Cressa felt calmer, more determined. She had come to the Institute to become Privileged. Though the journey was difficult, the reward was beyond her wildest dreams. She’d been chosen for this. It was her destiny.
Yes, Cressa thought, I am ready.
On the table, Cressa laid on her back and slid her arms into the cushioned tubes on either side of her. Leslie moved forward and began securing the restraint straps across Cress’s abdomen, thighs, and ankles.
The monitor came alive again as sensors lining the interior of the arm tubes immediately began tracking her vital signs. With a faint whirring sound, the imagers in the table took pictures of her insides.
Dr. Masterson studied all of the incoming data, nodding in approval. “Your temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate are all within acceptable ranges. The initial body scan shows that all of your internal organs are healthy and undamaged.” Still watching the numbers passing across the screen, she addressed Leslie. “Cadet Abbot, you may proceed.”
Leslie rounded the table to stand opposite the doctor. With one gloved finger, she smeared a cool gel across Cressa’s forehead, and then smoothed a strip of clear, malleable plastic over the substance. The gel warmed instantly on Cressa’s skin, which started to tingle after several seconds.
“No visible deterioration,” Dr. Masterson commented, studying images of Cressa's brain on the mon
itor. The doctor smiled down at her. “It appears you truly are an ideal host, Cadet Karmine. I see a bright future ahead of you.”
Pride swelled inside of Cressa at the doctor’s words. That was why she wanted to be Privileged—to cement her whole family’s place in the Dame’s carefully constructed new world. In that moment, she agreed with the doctor; the future was looking bright, indeed.
“Are you comfortable?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cressa replied dutifully, feeling almost excited. The lingering tendrils of fear that tickled her subconscious were easy to ignore now. She simply focused on the future, and the ultimate goal of attaining Privileged status.
Dr. Masterson opened the small compartment in the right arm tube, directly over Cressa’s elbow. After spraying Cressa’s skin with a disinfecting agent, she retrieved a syringe from the refrigeration unit built into the wall beside her.
“This first injection is merely another dose of the telekinetic serum that I gave you previously, to fortify your abilities. You will likely have greatly enhanced telekinesis for the next several days, but then it will settle in.”
The prick was quick and virtually painless. Cressa felt an instant surge of adrenaline as the power rushed through her veins. Beeping sounds came from the monitor as her heart pounded and her muscles tightened all at once.
Without warning, fear lanced through Cressa, quickly decimating the hope and excitement. With the restraints holding her immobile in their crushing grip, she couldn’t move an inch, couldn’t guard against the pain, couldn’t fight or flee.
No. Not again. Tears welled in her eyes until her vision swam and the two women standing above her became blurs. Please stop, I want to stop. Make it stop.
“It will pass quickly,” Dr. Masterson assured Cressa. “What you are feeling is all very normal.”
Leslie said nothing, watching Cressa as though she were a fascinating science experiment.
Her head spinning violently, like a rogue tilt-a-whirl, Cressa barely heard Dr. Masterson’s next words. “And this one will give you the ability to manipulate light.”
Cressa felt the second needle pierce her skin, sending another rush of chemicals into her bloodstream. The effects were instantaneous. Her nausea increased tenfold. Pressure skyrocketed within her, as though her insides were expanding at an unsustainable rate. Her skull suddenly felt like it was too big, stretching her skin painfully until she was certain the bone would tear it to shreds.
Cressa screamed. She wanted to beg the doctor to stop, to just leave her alone, but she was no longer capable of forming words.
It was just like last time, only so much worse. The power—it was too much. Her body couldn’t handle it.
Frightened, dazed, and desperate to end the agony, Cressa began to thrash wildly, though the restraints hindered her movements. She felt as though every organ inside of her was trying to claw its way out. Involuntary spasms rocketed through her, Cressa’s back arching over and over, causing the straps to dig painfully into her. Her eyelids flapped open and closed, open and closed, open and closed in fast succession. The effect was so disorienting that Cressa felt certain the world was tilting too far on its axis. Bile blazed her esophagus, as though it would burn a hole right through.
I’m going to be sick, Cressa thought tearfully. I’m going to suffocate in my own vomit, but at least it will be over.
Then, just when she couldn’t imagine a situation more nightmarish than the one she was living through, it became exponentially worse. The chamber lid descended from above, sealing her in alone with the agony. Spots danced in her line of sight, creating bizarre constellations on the dome above. Cressa heard a faint click as the two halves of the chamber locked together. The sound echoed in her mind, taunting her. She would never escape. She would never again know the world outside of the plastic and pain. It was just her and the savagery, trapped together forever.
Cressa’s lids fluttered several more times before closing for good. Her mind couldn’t handle it. Another torturous jolt of pain wracked every neuron at once, and then the world turned black.
“Welcome back, Cadet Karmine,” Dr. Masterson’s cool voice said.
Cressa blinked rapidly until the doctor’s face came into focus. The chamber lid was retracted again, and the doctor was leaning over Cressa, wiping the goo from her forehead with a warm cloth.
“That did not take long at all. I am very impressed by your body’s ability to adapt to the foreign genetic material,” the doctor continued. She glanced up, addressing someone, presumably Leslie, on the other side of the room. “The smooth acceptance might be somewhat attributed to the fact both of Cadet Karmine’s gifts were from the same source, though only the telekinetic abilities were natural.”
Cressa turned her head to find Leslie staring at the monitor on the wall, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Is that normal, ma’am? For all of the abilities to come from the same source?” Leslie asked.
Expecting the doctor to admonish Leslie for asking questions without prompting, Cressa was surprised when Dr. Masterson replied without hesitation. Then again, this was sort of a lesson for Leslie, with Cressa as the live subject material.
“No. It is very rare, in fact. The source needs to be exceptionally powerful for the abilities to pass successfully to a recipient, since some of the potency will always be forfeited during the transference process. Few sources have more than one talent, and even fewer have more than one that is strong enough for our uses. So, most cadets receive abilities from multiple donors.
“Cadet Karmine is fortunate that the source I used for her telekinetic abilities also has strong, albeit created, light manipulating powers. Because of degradation we’ve seen in the past when implanting created powers, I added an enhancer to the formula to counteract the weakening of the ability. In our current test subjects, this has proven quite successful. I am very interested to see if this holds true with Cadet Karmine.”
Cressa hated how the doctor and Leslie were talking about her as though she weren’t present. It was bizarre, and just plain rude. Nonetheless, Cressa was also grateful for the new information. This was the most she’d learned about the injections by far.
Until that moment, Cressa hadn’t known that her newfound abilities came from another individual, who they were calling the “source.” Truthfully, she hadn’t much considered where they came from, simply assuming the abilities were generated in a lab somewhere. The more Cressa thought about it, the ickier she felt. Someone else’s “genetic material” was inside of her, someone else’s DNA. Someone else’s blood was giving Cressa talents.
Who was her source? Where was her source? How many sources were there? Where did they come from? What did they get in return?
Although Cressa didn’t know the exact number of students currently enrolled at the Institute, it was enough that Dr. Masterson would need a large number of sources to provide for them all. Did the Dame recruit those donors? Did they apply to become sources for the Privileged, just as Cressa’s parents applied for her admission?
Even if she found the nerve to ask, Cressa doubted that Dr. Masterson would give her straight answers to the new questions buzzing inside her head like annoying flies. She wished Leslie would press the doctor for information, since her inquiries would come across as educational instead of nosy. Leslie either already knew all about the sources and how they were selected, or she wasn’t curious, because the older girl didn’t probe the topic.
“How long was I out?” Cressa asked, the first words she’d spoken since waking. Sliding her arms free of the restraints, she rubbed her temples. The pounding in her head was nearly gone, and she no longer felt sick to her stomach. In fact, Cressa felt amazing, like she’d just woken up from a restful night’s sleep after a week at the spa.
“Less than an hour,” Dr. Masterson told her. “Take it slowly now. Do you feel dizzy?”
Cressa sat up, shaking her head in response. Only an hour—that wasn’t bad at al
l. The first time, she’d meandered in and out of consciousness for two days.
“The Phase Two injection is typically much easier for the recipient, though a one-hour adjustment period is the fastest I have ever seen, by far. I must say, it is quite extraordinary.” The doctor grabbed hold of Cressa’s chin firmly, forcefully turning her face from right to left and examining her with a critical eye. “Cadet Abbot, please pull up the skeletal images of source 4709.” Dr. Masterson continued to study Cressa, her grip becoming painful.
Cressa bit back a wince. As much as she hated the feel of the doctor’s cold, dry fingers against her skin, Cressa knew better than to argue or protest. She tried to relax under the doctor’s penetrating gaze, though it proved quite difficult. The scrutiny reminded her of the way ranchers examined livestock at auction. Cressa fully expected Dr. Masterson to pry her lips apart at any moment to count her teeth.
“Ah, yes, very good. Very good,” Dr. Masterson said, eyes flicking between Cressa and the monitor behind her. “You have the proper foundation for your source, should the need ever arise. The bone structure is not identical, but close enough to make the adjustments.” Then, as if realizing she’d spoken too freely, the doctor pulled her hand back and brusquely changed topics. “You are finished here, for now. You may get dressed, and then Cadet Abbot will take you to the 2P dorm.”
Eager to leave med bay before Dr. Masterson decided to make adjustments—whatever that meant—Cressa swung her legs over the side of the table and slid to the floor. She changed in record time, listening intently to the conversation between Dr. Masterson and Leslie. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly as informative as their earlier exchange.
“I am a little surprised that you are not more interested in fieldwork, Cadet Abbot,” Dr. Masterson began, over the clinking of vials. Though Cressa could only see silhouettes moving on the other side of the privacy curtain, she assumed the doctor was straightening the refrigeration unit.