Threader

by Rebekah Turner

  I notice display cabinets at the far side of the room. Rotating holograms sit inside, looking a bit like wetsuits with helmets and face masks. Cora and I take a seat, but after ten minutes of waiting in silence, I get up and walk over to examine the suits. Cora appears beside me as I lean forward to read the holographic type at the base of each one.

  ‘What are they?’ I ask her.

  ‘Nanosuits that were developed by Galloway Industries.’ Cora indicates the hologram nearest to her. ‘This ghastly boring brown one is the standard issue at Helios. It’s got a sealed breather unit, thruster packs and an assistive reflex and muscular system.’ She points to one of the gloves, where a long black panel sits. ‘That’s where you can adjust your thruster settings, or bring up information on the visor display.’ She indicates the other suits rotating slowly beside it. ‘These are older versions and prototypes that didn’t make the grade.’

  ‘What are they used for?’ I ask.

  ‘Terraforming projects. Some sea and space exploration.’ Cora hesitates, then adds casually, ‘Sometimes sliders use them, as a safety precaution.’

  ‘Yeah?’ I think of the only slider I know, and Blake’s face swims into focus, scowling at me. I mentally remove his shirt, and now his scowl isn’t so bad. ‘You know much about sliders?’

  Cora’s expression tenses. ‘Ah … well, I’m actually a slider myself.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’ I look at her, surprised, and realise I’d assumed she was some sort of esper. The lawyer, Allen, had mentioned back in the medical room that he thought sliders should be graceful. I’d always imagined them to be sinister individuals who wore a lot of black and listened to German heavy metal music. Their ability to quantum tunnel through shadows was largely undocumented outside of their own kind, and therefore, regarded with suspicion.

  But Cora’s probably the nicest person I’ve met in a while and hardly looks dangerous in her cardigan. Guess I have to be ready to learn all sorts of new things.

  Cora stares at the brown nanosuit like it’s suddenly fascinating. Sensing her talent is a subject she doesn’t want to discuss, I return to our seats and she joins me. The girl with the blue hair still has her eyes closed and I wonder if she’s here to get her talents assessed as well.

  ‘Being a threader must be kind of cool,’ Cora says. ‘Have you used your talents much?’

  ‘Not really,’ I say. ‘My uncle didn’t like me using them.’

  ‘How strong are you?’ she persists.

  ‘I can almost lift my own weight with my TK,’ I admit quietly, glancing at the blue haired girl, knowing she’s listening.

  ‘What about your TP?’ Cora’s eyes are wide. ‘I was read by a TP once and it was like someone banging two saucepans together in my head.’

  ‘Not sure,’ I lie, before my throat closes up. It’s hard to talk about my talents without old fears resurfacing.

  Cora grins. ‘I bet you’ll blow their minds in the evaluations. Maybe they’ll even pair you up with another esper for compatibility testing.’ She clasps her hands together, tucking them under her chin. ‘That would be so exciting if you got paired up with someone hot, like Aaron Galloway. He’s a complete honey.’

  ‘There’s another Galloway here, other than Blake?’ I shift in my chair to face her.

  ‘There’s two more,’ Cora tells me, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable. ‘Aaron and Olivia Galloway. Olivia is a TP and this is her first year, like us. Aaron is a technopath and he graduated a year ago. He’s now a roboticist who works at Nanogen, but he also works on a bunch of projects here.’ She fans herself with a dramatic gesture. ‘He’s scorching hot, you know?’

  I don’t know, so I say nothing on this. Last guy I dated had been back in high school and that had ended when I’d accidentally flipped through his mind and read what he really thought about me. I didn’t venture far into the dating pool after that.

  ‘I heard you already had the pleasure of meeting the eldest Galloway brother, Blake?’ Cora grimaces. ‘What did you think—’ She trails off when she sees my frown. ‘Huh. That’s how I look when I think about him as well. He sometimes takes my slider tutorials. He’s supposed to be one of the best sliders around, but he’s a real meathead, you know? Which is a shame. All those dark, brooding looks and fine, fine abs of steel, just going to waste.’

  I stay silent. While I feel no loyalty to Blake, it feels wrong to trash him. That, and I don’t want to discuss anything about the tunnel of light we’d travelled in. Though last night’s nightmare had faded with the promise of a new day.

  ‘Did Blake study at Helios?’ I ask as casually as I can. Blake is a meathead, this we agree on. But he’s one fascinating meathead, that can’t be denied.

  Cora’s brow crinkles. ‘Not that I know of. I think he was a marine in the army, but got kicked out or something.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be nice as pie to Miss Ryder here, along with everyone else.’ The blue-haired girl suddenly speaks, her voice a low drawl. She opens her eyes and they’re a dark blue, matching the colour of her hair. ‘After all, this is the Helios Academy’s new golden girl.’

  There’s hostility in her voice and my body tenses in response. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Just ignore her,’ Cora whispers to me. ‘That’s Jasmine Harper. She’s a bitch to everyone.’

  ‘Josephine Ryder?’

  A female technician with a mole near her upper lip appears from a back room. She looks at me expectantly. ‘My name is Marie Wendell. Please follow me.’

  Cora pats me on the back. ‘Good luck.’

  Nerves edgy from the blue-haired girl’s remark, I give Cora a shaky smile and follow Wendell as she walks briskly towards the testing rooms that will decide my future.

  CHAPTER 9

  The next few hours consist of sitting in a small room, filling out electronic forms of every description, and then answering a psychiatrist’s rapid-fire questions in another room with framed ink blots on the walls. I’m aware my answers are guarded, but the psychiatrist seems to expect this. When we’re done, I’m given a physical examination by a small dark-skinned Asian doctor, who tells me I need to eat more vegetables.

  Afterwards, Wendell escorts me to a changing room, where I slip into a surgical gown and submit to a battery of medical scans by a super polite medic-droid. After being poked and prodded, I’ve got one final scan left. I stare at the circular tube that I’m supposed to lie in. I can stand elevators, but I’m not crazy about confined spaces. Wendell gestures for me to sit on the machine’s flatbed. When I hop up, she produces a needle and grasps my arm. She sees my alarmed expression and pauses.

  ‘Just some fluid to assist with the scans.’ She waves the needle about impatiently. ‘Alright?’

  Her brisk manner flusters me and I nod, trying not to stare at the mole on her lip. The needle pinches as it goes in and cold sweeps up from my arm, spreading through my chest. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  Wendell wasn’t really asking, so I don’t answer. All the adrenaline I’ve been cruising on is starting to wear thin and I’m beginning to run on empty. When I lie down, my head is secured by clamps and I squeeze my eyes shut as the flatbed rolls into the machine. There’s a whirring sound as heavy gears shift, before a thrumming starts up. The process lasts about twenty minutes and I’m pretty happy when it’s over. Wendell comes back in the room when the bed rolls out and tells me to get changed into my clothes.

  ‘How many more tests?’ I ask when I’m dressed again. I’m nervous about the moment Wendell wants to see my talents in action. I’ve got no doubt they’ll want me to thread with someone, and the idea of doing this with people watching and taking notes makes my stomach churn uneasily.

  ‘We’re going to complete a few telekinetic tests now.’ Wendell leads me into a room with a table and two chairs on either side. The table is covered with silver coins, about fifty of them, and a single gold coin rests in the centre.

  ‘Sit in one of the chairs, please,’ Wend
ell says. I sit and watch her leave, the door closing behind her. One wall is a viewing panel and soon Wendell appears and settles behind a monitor. Her voice pipes into the room.

  ‘This is a precision test, Josie. I need you to lift the gold coin for me. Just the gold coin. Don’t touch any of the silver.’

  My palms start to sweat. I roll my shoulders and try to relax them. I can do this, I chant to myself. I can totally do this. Reaching towards my puzzle-chest, I slide back the well-worn panels, shifting grooved slots and pegs, the lid popping up microseconds later. Nothing happens. I frown, giving the puzzle-chest a small nudge.

  ‘Josephine?’ Wendell’s voice startles me. ‘Are you having a problem?’

  ‘It’s Josie.’ I close my eyes. ‘I just need quiet.’

  A long silence follows and I blow out a steady breath and start again. Opening my eyes, I focus on the gold coin and send reassuring thoughts to my talents. My TK uncoils and reaches timidly for the coin. The silver around it rattles before settling and the gold coin lifts, spinning slowly. My heart soars and I want to do a happy dance. Who knew performance anxiety could be such a bitch? The coin spins slower now and I look at Wendell.

  ‘That’s very good,’ she says. ‘Are you able to pick up the silver ones as well now?’

  My eyes swing back to the table, letting this idea spread to my TK. The silver coins on the table vibrate, then all slowly lift. The concentration it takes to lift so many small items surprises me and my TK quickly begins to strain. Two silver coins fall back down on the table with a clatter.

  ‘Wonderful, just wonderful.’ Wendell sounds excited. ‘You can place them back on the table now.’

  I try to rest the coins back down, but the effort needed to lift so many small things has exhausted my TK and it trembles like an overused muscle, before the coins fall, showering the table, some bouncing to the floor. I wince and go to give Wendell a small, apologetic smile, but she’s disappeared. Then the door opens and she reappears in the room.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asks.

  ‘Tired,’ I admit.

  ‘We’ve got one last test, then we’ll break for lunch.’ She motions for me to follow her and we go into a room identical to the last, except instead of coins on the table, there’s a computer.

  Knowing the drill, I sit at the table and look at Wendell for further direction. She glances at the slate around her wrist with an irritated expression, right before a man enters. He looks to be in his early twenties and vintage aviator sunglasses sit on top of his head. His sleeves are rolled up, showing strong, tanned forearms.

  ‘You’re late,’ Wendell says.

  ‘Apologies. My transport was delayed.’ His voice is smooth and clipped.

  He sits down opposite me and Wendell introduces us. ‘Josie, this is Aaron Galloway. He’s a Helios graduate from last year and now works at Nanogen. We’re fortunate he still consults closely on many projects we have here.’

  ‘Hi, Josie,’ Aaron says.

  ‘Hey,’ I reply.

  He takes off his sunglasses and drops them on the table. ‘I’m a technopath. Do you know what that is?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answer. Then I’m suddenly distracted by the fact I’m meeting Cora’s Mr Scorching-Hot.

  ‘Technopaths create a mental link with technical data,’ Wendell begins explaining anyway. ‘They also display to varying degrees an inherent knowledge of computer systems, but do have issues when dealing with any biological components.’

  ‘Well, some technopaths do,’ Aaron interrupts, seemingly annoyed at having any potential weakness pointed out.

  ‘Like your own talents, Josie, Aaron’s ability is a rare subset in the esper category,’ Wendell continues. ‘The only limitation a technopath faces is that they have to have contact with the machine they want to interface with, and the distance they can travel once inside can be limited. Not to mention being vulnerable to any aggressive anti-viral programs.’

  Wendell walks around to the computer, tapping the slim processing drive with a finely manicured nail. ‘I want you to thread with Aaron, then follow his lead. Through your thread, we anticipate Aaron will be able to access the computer remotely. The goal of this exercise is to simply activate the computer and load up a program.’

  ‘Is this going to be safe?’ Aaron asks Wendell lightly. ‘I heard Josie here gave Blake a very strenuous roll in the slipstream.’

  ‘Of course it’s safe,’ Wendell says. ‘What happened last time was an accident.’

  ‘It really was,’ I tell him.

  Aaron hesitates, then throws me a disarming smile and holds out his hands. ‘Only one way to find out, I suppose.’

  I stare down at his hands blankly. ‘I don’t need to touch you.’

  ‘Maybe not, but it would help centre me.’

  Hesitant, I reach out to place my hands in his and my skin feels freezing against his warmth.

  ‘Once you’ve threaded successfully with me, we should be able to enter the processing unit from here,’ he says. ‘When we’re inside, I need you to just focus on keeping the thread secure and for you to stay calm. If you start to panic inside the data grid, we’ll crash and I can assure you, that’s kind of uncomfortable.’

  ‘Your mother was one of the pioneers of long-distance threading techniques,’ Wendell says. ‘And your brain scans have indicated an almost perfect alignment to hers, so this should be simple for you.’

  ‘Did you know my mother?’ The question spills from my lips and I pull away from Aaron in surprise.

  ‘I’m familiar with her research.’ Wendell looks like she regrets mentioning it. ‘I understand you don’t know much about her time here. I’m afraid there’s not much else I can tell you.’

  ‘Josie?’ Aaron lifts his hands, waiting.

  Feeling disappointed at the lack of information, I slip my hands into his as Wendell leaves the room. I look back at Aaron. His eyes are a pale auburn colour with flecks of gold and he stares at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable.

  ‘Whenever you’re ready.’ Wendell appears in the viewing room, her voice echoing around us. I cast doubtful eyes towards the computer.

  ‘Try to remember how it happened with Blake,’ Aaron says.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ I tell him. ‘I kind of panicked.’

  He squeezes my hands and smiles. ‘Instincts can work just as well. Just relax.’

  Taking a deep breath, I allow both my talents to spread out and inch towards Aaron.

  ‘Have you started?’ Aaron asks. ‘I can’t tell.’

  ‘Sort of,’ I tell him.

  ‘You can do it,’ he says. ‘Just take it slow.’

  His gentle words make my talents brave and they swoop into his mind. As if following a familiar path, they follow his mind’s busy network, until they come to what I saw inside Blake: a blazing sun at his centre. Understanding now that this is the central point of a talent, I allow my own talents to weave around it. An electric feeling fires through me as I do, dancing along my skin, and something inside me shifts by a small degree. For a moment, I’m elated, realising I just completed my first official thread. At least, the first one on purpose. Then a sluggish sensation engulfs my talents and the braid unravels. My talents whip about, confused.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Aaron asks softly. ‘I think I can feel you now, but something feels … wrong.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Panic grips me and my sight blurs. My talents feel heavy and difficult to control. With a burst of concentration, I pull them out and the effort washes my vision white. A stabbing pain skewers my head and my talents recoil home. Aaron is sent reeling back in his chair with a surprised shout and I double over, gasping for breath. A moment later, Wendell’s shoes swim into my vision.

  ‘What happened?’ She crouches down, lifting my head gently. A bright light shines in each of my eyes.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, sucking in a big breath.

  Wendell gets to her feet and I hear her talking to Aaron. Black dots dance a
round the corners of my vision. After a few minutes, my breath returns to normal and I straighten in the chair, sweat trickling down the nape of my neck.

  Aaron crouches beside me. ‘Do you need to lie down?’

  I notice one of his eyes is bloodshot and a small tear of blood leaks from the corner.

  My throat convulses as I swallow a wave of nausea. ‘Please don’t tell me I did that.’

  He swipes at the tear with a shrug. ‘Don’t worry about it. I was half ready for it.’

  ‘I don’t know what happened,’ I tell him.

  ‘We’ll figure it out,’ Wendell says. ‘It’s probably just nerves.’

  ‘I’m not sure that was the problem.’ Aaron’s hand drops from me. When I look up at him, I see him staring at me with a thoughtful expression. ‘It felt like something was interfering with the thread.’

  ‘What would cause that?’ I ask.

  ‘Let’s take a break for lunch,’ Wendell announces. ‘I’ll examine the results of today’s tests. Maybe I can pinpoint what went wrong.’ She glances at Aaron. ‘And you’d better report to medical to get checked out, make sure no real damage was done.’

  CHAPTER 10

  By the end of the day, I’m flat-out exhausted and after a lunch of spinach salad with sunflower seeds between tests, I’m starving for dinner. When I trudge back to the waiting room, I’m surprised to find Cora waiting. It occurs to me the female slider doesn’t have many friends, but I’m more than grateful for her company as we head to the canteen.

  Once there, we load our trays with food and find seats at the back, surrounded by a general bustling of people eating and talking. The food selection isn’t bad; I’ve chosen pasta and parsnip fries with a cola, while Cora has an anaemic looking tuna salad and a bottle of sparkling water.

  ‘How did it go with Wendell?’ she asks.

  ‘Some of it went okay.’ I’m hungry, but anxiety pinches my stomach and I can barely touch the food in front of me. ‘Some of it didn’t.’

  ‘Just nerves, I bet,’ Cora chuckles. ‘You’ll be fine.’