The Cupel Recruits

by Willshire, Susan

Chapter 5

  Gabriel awoke and felt very strange. His body felt like he had a hangover, but without the hangover or headache, as if getting ready to get the flu, three days prior, where he didn’t really feel poorly yet or know why, just odd. He sat up slowly and looked around the room; It appeared like a very modern-style hotel room. For a moment, he thought-Am I on a business trip? What city am I in? Was the bus accident a very vivid dream? As his clarity progressed, he was very sure it was no dream, or even nightmare. Anxiety on the edge of fear did a dance in the space within his chest behind his heart. Instantly his thoughts turned to his parents and the near-fear turned to borderline panic. He tried to leave the room, but could not. The door was locked.

  As soon as he tried the door handle, the frame around the door illuminated and a slow, soft chime began at intervals of thirty seconds. After a few moments, the chiming stopped, the door frame deluminated and the door opened. Gabriel stood ready for a fight, not sure what to expect or who would kidnap him and hold him hostage like this. A well-dressed man seemingly not much older than himself appeared in the doorway. Gabriel examined him closely. He had dark hair, a European look, and the frame of a man that was lean but strong, like a cyclist. He did not appear unfriendly, but did not smile readily either. Careworn-that was Gabriel’s first impression of Saraceni. Something in his air immediately let Gabriel know this was no enemy and he relaxed from a fighting stance.

  “Are my parents okay?” Gabriel asked hurriedly.

  “Yes. You will see your father soon.” Saraceni tried to ease his panic. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this type of conversation. ‘Though it may be the last’ Saraceni pondered to himself.

  “Why not my mother? Is she injured?” challenged Gabriel.

  “She is fine, but it will be longer before you see her.” Saraceni knew what Gabriel would ask next, yet waited for him to digest rather than preemptively answering the question.

  “Why? I want to see her now!” Gabriel’s upset grew and his thoughts raced, “and how am I unharmed? We went off that cliff! What kind of medical team could have me here without a scratch? I don’t remember hitting the ground. Did we hit the ground?” Gabriel paced back and forth in the small studio suite like a caged animal as he fired off questions. Saraceni walked to the refrigerator, handed Gabriel a bottled water and emitted a calm, even tone in response to the rapid-fire inquiry,

  “I know you want answers, and you will have them, in time. There’s an order to things.” Inside, Saraceni too felt impatient to hurry this along. The deadline loomed and getting these people into training mode was priority one, but if the transitions were handled poorly, it would slow them up for weeks. ‘Small time invested now yields large payoffs in operational speed later on’ he reminded himself with the words of Ruth Fielding. He continued to Gabriel, “If you are hungry, there is plenty of food in here, but I’d encourage you not to eat too much today, or you may not be able to keep it down. Just go slow.”

  “I’m not hungry,” answered Gabriel quietly.

  “I’ll be back shortly to take you to a room where you can learn more. Until then, please try to rest a bit.” Saraceni turned to leave, but Gabriel’s voice halted him.

  “I need to call me fiancée. I need to let her know I’m alive.”

  “We’ll discuss this after I return to collect you.“ Saraceni was careful to neither affirm nor deny the request. He left. Gabriel felt like he should be angry, but had trouble actually becoming angry at Saraceni. It was as if the man were a member of his own family and Gabriel knew deep down that he was just doing what was best.

  Saraceni repeated strikingly similar conversations nine more times and gave his recruits a bit of time to think before returning to collect them. This way, they would be ready to absorb information when entering the training room and would have already worked through their immediate emotional responses. It would be a day of extreme ups and downs for them, he knew, so he aimed to make it as smooth as possible. He knew other instructors were that moment doing the same for the other classes that had arrived that day, but his ten were his main concern. The others were certainly important, but his ten recruits would be deciding all their fates, other new recruits included.

  Gabriel was the tenth recruit Saraceni collected. It would have been more efficient to have junior team members walk the recruits to the training room, but that wasn’t how it was done. The members of Molior would have exposure only to Saraceni until after they passed their sensory acclimation test-couldn’t have muddled interactions all over the place if they were miscalibrated in some way.

  The two men silently walked down a different hallway to get to the training room than the one Wood and Stone had used the day before. The training room entry on the east side was used by project team members, Circle 2 and above. All recruits were not designated a Circle by default throughout their training and restricted to quarters and common areas in the west side of the facility. They did not have access to the same news, warnings, people or areas as everyone else. They had limited access to the outside world as well-only under controlled conditions. Basically, they were sequestered until their training was complete. Saraceni walked more slowly than usual as Gabriel still seemed out of sorts.

  Upon entering the training room, Gabriel saw nine other people standing and conversing quietly in the room, eight of whom were from the Bus 1 accident, one man he had never seen before and one of the eight who was his father.

  “Dad!” he shouted and hugged his father, “Have you seen Mom?” he asked.

  “No, son, but they claim she is fine.” Mr. Aquila attempted to reassure his son though he himself felt unsure. Mr. Bamidele stood next to his longtime friend and shook Gabriel’s hand with affection driven by familiarity.

  “Are you well, Gabriel?” Enam Bamidele inquired. He noticed Gabriel did not have his usual charismatic shine emanating from within. Simultaneously, Gabriel noticed Enam’s usually clear, dark, African skin seemed splotchy and almost pale, if that was possible.

  “I’m alright. What happened? I remember going off the cliff, but I don’t remember hitting or anything.” Gabriel rubbed his temple in an effort to recover the lost memory. The one person in the room, besides Saraceni, who was not on Bus 1 jumped into the conversation.

  “You people keep talking about a cliff. What cliff? I don’t remember anything at all.” George offered. He was a man of about twenty-six and dressed more formally, in brown pants and a tweed vest, not like the rest of the recruits clothing, more like Saraceni himself.

  “Do we all have memory loss?” Gabriel asked Saraceni directly.

  “Yes, though most of you very little,” Saraceni followed the training rules when answering the question: ‘Always answer truthfully. If unable to answer truthfully without disturbing the training order, then do not answer the question.’ The rules had been created to preserve the integrity of the higher purpose while promoting the steepest learning curve possible. Too much information too soon would only confuse the recruits and consequently disrupt their larger mission. Lies, of course, though more convenient, would undermine trust and were against the order.

  “If you will all please be seated, I will try to explain things to you and answer as many questions as possible.” Saraceni continued. The group moved slowly, warily, and reluctantly to their seats. If any had felt better, there would likely have been challenge to Saraceni at this point. Gabriel moved to sit by his father.

  “Gabriel, please sit in this chair next to Juliet. It’s best for learning if you don’t sit by your father,” Saraceni motioned to the back left table, whereas Mr. Aquila sat at the second table on the right. Gabriel complied with a look across his shoulder to his father as Enam Bamidele instead sat next to his familiar friend, Alexander Aquila. Gabriel nodded out of polite habit to Juliet, who he had seen in passing on the day of the accident, but never actually met. Juliet Avignon had dark red hair, dark brown eyes and a dark, brooding mood on that day. She stared straight ahead at Saraceni, anxious t
o know what he could possibly share that would make this bizarre experience make any sense.

  “Let’s start with questions until they get us into trouble. Then we’ll switch to a format more…structured.” Saraceni began the formal teaching of the Molior class.

  “Where is everyone else from the bus? Are they okay?” Enam punted the first question.

  “Many of them are here, at this facility, and those who are, you will see in time,” Saraceni paused so they would not be shocked. “Some did not make it.”

  “How could some not make it?” Gabriel chided, “Either we went off the cliff and died or we didn’t, right? No one could have survived that.”

  “Some are here and some are not,” Saraceni responded.

  “So some are dead and some are not?” Juliet inserted her question with a level gaze.

  “Yes,” Saraceni answered her slowly.

  “Are we the dead ones?” asked a voice from the front right table of the room. It belonged to Kyle Chambers, the youngest of the crew, at sixteen. He nervously ran his hand through his chin-length brown hair. The entire room was silent for a moment as the team pondered the question only a couple of them had even considered. Juliet shot Kyle a look, letting him know she was thinking the same thing. As a scientist, she had long-ago abandoned the notions of angels in robes and a bright white light.

  “You are not dead,” Saraceni affirmed.

  “Then how do you explain us being here, if we did go off the cliff?” Juliet retorted.

  “Your bodies in their present state are the result of an amazing amount of work by a large team of people with whom I work. Your bodies will not be 100% functional for at least a month, during which time you must be carefully monitored, protected from infection, tested and developed. During this time, you must be here and cannot leave or the outside influences will disrupt the process.” Saraceni knew from long experience what question would be next.

  “When can we contact our families and let them know we are alright?” The question was proffered by David Running Wolf, who sat at the front left table in front of a blonde British woman, Jane Grey Windsor. Saraceni thought carefully before responding as this area of training was a delicate, and unpopular, one.

  “You will be able to contact your families on a limited basis in your third week of training, but not before then,” Saraceni responded carefully. Unhappy, David Running Wolf stood up. He was a large man, at least 6’4” with long black hair and strong arms that were tense as if this pacifist might hit Saraceni.

  “They’ll think we’re dead! I have children!” David pleaded. Gabriel’s thoughts turned to Caleb, who was to be his own son officially in just a few short weeks, but already was in every other way.

  “It is a consequence of having your present life, I’m afraid,” came Saraceni’s rebuff, "I am sorry.”

  “You keep saying “training”, what do you mean “training”, what are we being “trained” in?” asked Alexander Aquila inquisitively. Saraceni’s answer to this question was well-rehearsed to the point of memorization, and so he replied:

  “Since we have given you this life, and you must be sheltered for the benefit of your bodies, you will also be trained for the benefit of your minds and souls. It is our sincere hope that after you learn all that we have to teach you, you will want to use this knowledge for the good of yourselves, your loved ones and the world in general.”

  “The world in general?” Juliet ventured, “You really think you can teach us something that will benefit the whole world?” Saraceni did not flinch and his certainty permeated the room like a drop of dye spreading out in a bowl of water.

  “ ‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.’ Quote compliments of Margaret Mead. And, yes, I do think we have much information that would be a treasure to inquisitive minds such as those in this group.” Saraceni concluded. At this point, he also knew what the next question would be. It was human nature to resist authority, after all, though the thought of himself or their workgroup as authority slightly amused the instructor.

  “And what if we don’t want to?” Jane asked while folding her hands with finality on the table in front of her. Again, Saraceni’s response was pat:

  “We will not force you to participate in training, but if you leave right now, you will die. I can tell you that if you do learn what we have to teach, you will absolutely be able to help those you love most in the world in a very meaningful way. This I promise you.” And so the gauntlet was thrown. Anyone who did not buy into the concept of the training heart and soul would be resistant and jeopardize the mission, so voluntary acceptance of each team member was absolutely critical. The room remained silent.

  “Okay, then, I think we have ourselves a training class,” Saraceni boomed with a solitary clap of his hands in the space in front of him. The dramatic gesture was not really his personal style, but had been shown in data analysis of prior classes to increase the firmness of commitment by 23%, so he did it. They needed every possible edge, even if he personally disliked the tactics at times.

  “Please take a short break and have some water from the tray in the back of the room and we will continue,” said Saraceni. The class milled about, glancing at the features of the room, sipping water and looking at one another skeptically. They were bought in just enough to not leave, but little more at this point. It was already late in the afternoon. Molior should have been hungry by this point, but they were not. After about 20 minutes, they noticed Saraceni turning the power on to a machine in the front left of the room and pressing some buttons, so the class gradually returned to their seats. Saraceni went to the door, receiving a rolling bin from a pair of hands belonging to an unseen visitor. Gabriel craned his neck in an attempt to see the faceless minion, but to no avail. Saraceni wheeled the bin behind a screen near the machine and faced the class.

  “This device is called a sensory awareness platform. It will measure the ability of your bodies to respond to a variety of stimuli. A test for each of you is necessary to ensure your bodies are operating properly and prepared for steps in the coming weeks. It is not a comfortable test. Nausea is fairly common. Should you feel ill, there is a bin behind this soundproof screen. Who would like to go first?” Saraceni saw an opportunity to give the recruits some control over their own destiny by picking the order, so he liked to provide freedoms whenever possible. David Running Wolf stood up immediately. ‘The bravest’ Saraceni thought to himself at the speed of David’s ascension.

  Running Wolf proceeded through the test as Wood and Stone had the day before, but without the benefit of experience, and remained stoic throughout the process. He correctly identified each experience and, thus, passed the test. He became ill immediately following and dove behind the screen, emerging shaky and somewhat green. And so it proceeded through the remainder of the recruits. Near identical experiences, except George, who did not become ill, just slightly queasy, and Jane Gray Windsor, who did not pass the test.

  “It’s not uncommon with more petite frames to require subtle recalibration,” Saraceni informed her when she failed. “Jane, please remain here and I will see you to our medical team for attention. The rest of you are free to return to your rooms. Your doors are no longer locked, so you have access to the common area for your team, but your quadrant is still closed from the rest of the facility, so please note the doors at each end of the master hallway are locked. I know this has been a long and difficult day. I encourage you all to get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The recruits, still tired and now queasy, returned to their rooms on shaky legs. Gabriel walked with his father and Enam down the hall toward their rooms.

  “Dad, I have a lot I think we should all discuss, but I’m so exhausted. Can you wake me up as soon as you get up in the morning and we can all discuss before this “training” class starts again tomorrow? " Gabriel asked with the heavy eyelids of a newborn child. Gabriel knew
his father naturally awoke very early, so they should have some time to talk then.

  “Yes, Gabriel, I think that’s a good idea. Normally, I don’t think we would sleep, but my body is tired as if I’ve been up for two days,” Alexander Aquila replied.

  “Mine, too,” agreed Enam.

  “The morning, then” Gabriel affirmed, giving his father a hug. He entered his room and collapsed on the bed fully dressed, asleep within one minute.

  Chapter 6

  As Gabriel predicted, Alexander Aquila did rise early. Even though he’d been exhausted, his body still was not one to sleep late. He showered quickly, brushed his teeth and donned clothes from the assortment hanging neatly in the closet. The clothes had been there, perfectly his size, but slightly different from his own taste. An array of jeans, slacks, shirts and shoes with no bright colors, no tags, labels or designs, all comfortable, all functional, and a few sets of athletic gear. He didn’t really care about the lack of selection much, but just noticed in the inquisitive way that was his trademark.

  After hanging his robe neatly back in the closet, closing the door and making the bed, Alexander turned his attention to the window. He examined the frame and the seals. There was no way to open the window and the construction appeared to enter directly into the wall for some depth. If the glass had been set into a window frame resting in the opening, it would have been fairly easy to chisel along the edge with a knife or some implement and remove the window. This, however, was not the case. He put the nearest dark mahogany chair in front of the door to his room and climbed up on the bed to check out the ventilation system. It was barely large enough for a cat, much less a person. ‘Not even one of the smaller females’ he thought, dismayed. There was no crawl space outside of the ventilation system either; the ceiling tiles were only a few inches below the subfloor of the floor above them. He knocked above his head on the subfloor of the room above him. It appeared to be something similar to concrete, maybe a bit thinner.