by V. St. Clair
The third-floor labs were meant to be a sign that the Viceroy encouraged open access and was not hiding anything nefarious in his organization, though rumors of secret and immoral experiments always persisted on the outside. Very few people—even within the government—knew about the secret labs on the higher floors, though many speculated that there must be some secret laboratory somewhere within the building to produce all of the groundbreaking research they did. In fact, there were three.
Topher and Gareth passed an electron microscope and were separated from each other as they moved around the crowd to get a clear view of what was happening at the far end of the room. A lone chair was set up in the corner, upholstered in white and currently set upright beneath several spotlights on swivels. It reminded Topher of a dentist’s chair.
Uninvited, the voice in Topher’s head made itself known by barging into his thoughts.
Four turns of the glass. It will fall. You must remember. Almost too late. It will fall.
Topher stifled a noise of surprise at the intrusion by coughing, clenching his teeth in frustration. How many more times could he endure these random invasions before he accidentally reacted in a way that made others questions his sanity?
It was five turns of the glass last time, and now it’s only four. He frowned. Seems I was right about it being a countdown to something.
He took note of the date and time on his communicator, keying it in quickly with the intention of going back later and figuring out exactly how much time had elapsed since the first warning. If he could figure out how much time each ‘turn of the glass’ represented, it would at least tell him how much time he had before it happened—whatever “it” was.
He still had no idea what he was supposed to be remembering, since the voice was terribly nonspecific. Again he wondered if it was his own mind playing tricks on him or an induced event from Hera’s technologists. He glanced around to see if any of the others looked as bothered as he felt, but there was nothing obvious on any of their faces.
It will fall…he frowned at this new piece of the puzzle. What was “it?” The Augenspire? The government? The Academy? Or was it not something physical at all, but rather something intangible, like peace between the Gifted and the government? Was another Great War about to begin?
Topher pushed his worries away for now. This was not the time or place to have his mind elsewhere; he needed to focus on the interrogations.
Before he could ask any of the scientists—identifiable by their purple lab coats—when they were planning to begin, a door at the back of the room opened and two of his peers dragged in a terrified girl.
There was some grumbling and whispered commentary between the assembled Majors as their captive was brought in, but no one spoke to Topher directly, so he slipped a Talent quietly into his left enhancer. The Talent allowed him to read any nearby ID-chips, so he focused on the crying girl and her information appeared in mid-air beside her.
She’s only fifteen, Topher frowned slightly, mentally willing the text to scroll downwards so he could scan all of her relevant information, while the others forced her into the white chair and began restraining her with white belts he hadn’t noticed before because they blended in so well with the chair.
The girl—Jessa—was thin to the point of looking underfed, goosebumps visible on her exposed arms from the chill of the room. Under the bright lights, her paisley-printed dress looked shabby, like they hadn’t let her wash or change clothing since she was brought in the other day.
“Please!” she cried out, tears streaming down her face. “Please tell me what’s going on! Why won’t anyone tell my why I’m here!?”
No one answered. The girl saw the assembled group of Provo-Major and seemed to panic even more, fighting against the restraints with no effect.
“Please! I haven’t done anything wrong—there’s been a mistake! Please let me go!”
Again, no one spoke.
That poor girl must be a hundred pounds soaking wet. There’s no way she could have overpowered Fox, even if he was catatonic…
A few of Topher’s peers looked like they were thinking the same thing, and as always, he took mental notes on who appeared to feel pity for their captive. Unless her Gift was something phenomenal, it didn’t seem physically possible for her to have caused Fox any more trouble than a fly.
Others amongst Topher’s peers stared at Jessa as though contemplating a piece of refuse that didn’t realize it was about to get thrown in the trash, viciously satisfied by the girl’s fear of them.
“Please let me call my mother, she must be worried about me! Please, I haven’t done anything wrong!”
A scientist with the name Miranda embroidered on her lab coat waded through the herd of Majors and took her place beside the chair, setting down a tray loaded with needles, scalpels, clamps, and other unpleasant-looking devices on the table beside her.
If any of these girls is actually psychic, it should be fairly obvious since we’ve got her locked in a room with about twenty people who have the highest level of security clearance on Elaria.
That the Viceroy permitted this many of them to be in the room with her only confirmed he hadn’t changed his earlier orders. As soon as they knew which girl was psychic, she would die.
Idly, Topher wondered at Miranda’s clearance level, in case the girl started spouting off top-secret information for the whole room to hear. The Viceroy must have selected her with that in mind, or else things would get awkward when they had to imprison one of their own scientists and chemically-burn their secrets from her brain.
“Jessa,” Miranda addressed the young lady in a businesslike tone completely void of human feeling. Topher felt a pang of emotion at hearing the name spoken aloud, as it made him think of Vicerina Jessamine. “Do you know why you are here today?”
“No,” Jessa sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks, struggling in her restraints. “I keep asking but no one will tell me.” Her voice sounded hoarse, and Topher could imagine her shouting at the walls of her holding room, begging for an answer that would never come.
“I think you know exactly why you are here,” the scientist countered mildly, stepping forward to stand directly in the girl’s line of sight and blocking Topher’s view of her. “Look me in the eyes and tell me why you are here. If you do that, we’ll let you go.”
If she believes admitting she’s a psychic will get her released from here then she’s an idiot, Topher thought privately. Surely someone who has deceived the Academy’s testing process for all this time is too smart to fall for such a simple trick.
Then again, people did become desperate when in fear for their lives.
“I told you, I don’t know why I’m here!” Jessa insisted, meeting Miranda’s dark eyes. “Why won’t you all tell me? I haven’t done anything wrong, please believe me!”
Ignoring the request, Miranda selected a syringe full of bright green liquid and said, “Then we’ll do this the hard way.”
“No! Please!” Jessa struggled against her restraints so hard the entire chair rocked. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear! You’ve got the wrong person!”
That’s probably true…
The scientist jabbed the needle into the side of her neck and Jessa screamed as the Veritan entered her system. Small amounts of the drug could be used to make a person more honest, by slowing down the part of the brain able to manufacture lies. Larger doses of the drug—like the one Jessa just received—could temporarily shut down entire parts of the brain and had a caustic effect at the injection site, which occasionally left people with severe arterial scarring and, occasionally, death. Due to its innate hazards, Veritan was artificially-colored a horrible bright green, so there could be no confusing it with other drugs.
They all stood there in silence while the poor girl screamed and writhed in agony. Topher watched, unblinking, loathing Fox for his inability to even remember who the hell attacked him at Club Roxx so they could at least be sure they were doing thi
s to the right person. As necessary as it was to find and detain the Gifted capable of pulling government secrets out of a person’s head, there was no joy for Topher in what they were doing here today.
After the screaming subsided Miranda said, “Tell me why you are here, Jessa.” There wasn’t a trace of sympathy in her voice.
This time when Jessa answered, her voice was monotone and she was no longer flailing about; her extremities probably felt disconnected from her body as her brain lost awareness of them.
“I don’t know,” she replied slowly, her eyes drifting a little as she struggled to form the response.
“What is your Gift?” Miranda asked instead, pulling a red-tinted visor down in front of her face that must have been displaying important information only she could see.
“I can change my appearance at will,” Jessa replied flatly. It was always unnerving to see someone under the effects of Veritan; it completely stripped away their personality and left them an empty shell.
“Make your hair blond,” Miranda commanded.
“Can she use her Gift while on Veritan?” Kristoff asked from nearby.
“She should be able to,” the scientist responded, tapping the side of her visor to change the display. “Her vitals are fine: brain activity is heavily restricted in regions one, three, and six, consistent with high doses of Veritan. Her Gift should still be intact.”
Miranda knew her work, because Jessa closed her eyes and suddenly the color retreated from her hair as though being pulled back into her scalp, and then she was blond. Seeing people do something so unnatural always made Topher uneasy, and given the muttering of his peers, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
“Well?” Miranda asked Fox, who Topher hadn’t noticed standing nearby until just now. He still had no Talents on his belt, which meant the Viceroy hadn’t ordered any more to be made for him yet: a pointed message to Fox that Topher wondered if the other man was smart enough to notice.
Perhaps he’s foolishly trying to convince himself it takes time to reproduce his Talents and they’ll arrive shortly. But Topher knew the technologists could recreate his Talents within an hour if the occasion called for it.
“Blonder,” Fox said, squinting his eyes as he strained to recall the night of his attack.
Miranda gave the order and Jessa turned her hair so blond it was almost white. Fox had her shorten it and straighten it, and then stepped into the light and stared down at her for a long time in silence.
“Have you ever met this man before?” Miranda asked Jessa while they waited.
“No,” she replied flatly.
“That Maxton kid said Hera’s people had a way to lie through Veritan,” Fox insisted forcefully, which made Miranda frown thoughtfully and check her visor again. Topher knew Fox well enough to know his forcefulness was a sign of nerves.
He doesn’t think we’ve got the right girl and he’s afraid of what will happen if none of them are the right one.
Topher could understand his fear. He had no idea what the Viceroy would do if Fox was unable to find the psychic at the Academy for them.
“Her brain shows no activity in the areas that would allow her to formulate a lie,” Miranda assured them. “Either she doesn’t work for Hera, or you were lied to by your last prisoner. There is no known resistance—chemical or otherwise—against Veritan.” There was no relish in her voice as she said it, only the self-assurance of one who knows they are correct.
“Are you a psychic?” Fox loomed over Jessa as he asked, looking imposing even with a broken nose.
“No,” Jessa replied evenly, eyes drifting once more.
“Bring in the next one,” Fox stepped away, looking disgusted and angry.
Six more…Topher counted down mentally, wondering if the psychic was still at the Academy, laughing her ass off at the hundreds of Provo who had swarmed the Augenspire and failed to find her.
The Minors had reported no one missing from the Academy curfew rosters except for Maxton Mercuria, so she had to still be at the Academy somewhere, unless she was employed off-site by the government itself, which would be an utter disaster.
“What do you want done with this one?” Miranda asked neutrally. Topher wondered what made her so dispassionate about her work.
“I don’t care, kill her or something.” Fox waved a dismissive hand.
“I hardly think the Viceroy will approve of us murdering innocent Gifted,” Gareth spoke now, surprising Topher.
“No Gifted is innocent,” Andros retorted angrily, folding his arms across his chest.
“Of attacking Fox, she is,” Gareth shrugged. “We’ll need to return her to the Academy with our apology, unless you want to fill out the paperwork for why we owe her parents a death payout and see Fox put on trial for false imprisonment and termination of a Gifted.”
Andro scowled and grumbled, “Vicerina Jessamine didn’t do us any favors when she shoved that bit of feel-good legislation down our throats.”
Topher tensed slightly but did not react, as what his colleague said was not technically a slur on the Vicerina. Jessamine spent years convincing her father to enact a law making it illegal for the government to kill a Gifted person unless proven guilty of a crime that warranted death as a punishment. She also championed the clause forcing a payout of benefits to the family of the slain Gifted in the events of wrongful death at the hands of a government official. In the years following the Great War, the Gifted were stripped of many of their basic human rights, so this small step towards curbing unwarranted abuse and violence against them was seen by some within the Provo as a massive display of weakness on the Viceroy’s part. By the Gifted it had been hailed as a small but important victory, though they argued it didn’t go nearly far enough and they felt the accused government member should be tried by a jury; one that included the Gifted. The Viceroy had squashed the idea immediately.
“We can’t send her back like this,” Fox argued to the room in general. “When the Veritan wears off she’s going to be able to tell people everything we asked her. They’ll know there’s a psychic running around out there that got the upper hand on me.”
Next time don’t fail so miserably at your job then, Topher thought mercilessly.
Miranda picked up a syringe with dark orange fluid in it and said, “With enough chemicals and electricity, I can burn away most of the recent past from her memory. There may be some long-term psychological or personality effects, but if you’re willing to bear the consequences of that decision then it isn’t my problem.”
“Do it,” Kristoff said through clenched teeth. “Then dump her back in the Academy where she belongs, and let’s be on to the next one.”
“I’ll need someone to roll that cart of electrodes over here, and bring me the rubber gloves and an apron too.” She pointed to Fox. “Fill up some of those plastic tubs with water and bring them over here—no more than half-full, please.”
Topher admired her nerve in ordering around the Provo-Major like they were her personal servants, but he had no desire to watch them torture this poor girl into forgetting what they did to her. He wondered how much of her would be left after they were done messing around in her head, and what the Viceroy or Jessamine would think of this behavior.
He turned to walk away just as Jora said, “Too chicken to watch?”
Topher raised an eyebrow and answered. “I received a call from the Minors that I need to attend to, unless you think I’m needed here for additional reinforcement.” It was true that Andreas had returned his call to get started on the task of canvassing the financial district of downtown Silveria several days ago, but truthfully, Topher just didn’t want to have nightmares about girls named Jessa being tortured.
“Ah, I forgot about your assignment,” Jora relaxed, looking repentant for the needling.
“Must be nice,” Topher grumbled and left the lab on his own to meet with Andreas.
Back on the twenty-second floor, he entered the east wing of the Provo-Minor o
ffices and noticed the sharp increase in noise as the doors closed behind him. People moved hurriedly back and forth between different workstations as they consulted over facts and figures, those who remained at their desks were flipping through surveillance monitors without blinking, and there was a constant underlying sound of shuffling papers and the opening and closing of desk drawers around the space.
Small wonder they’re so busy, Topher considered. They were all pulled from their normal duties to find anything on the psychic girl and the whereabouts of Maxton Mercuria.
He hadn’t really stopped to consider the effect this would have on the Minors until now, since they moved in different circles and didn’t interact terribly often. Luckily he found Andreas at his assigned workstation, though the short man was currently absorbed in the four monitors in front of him. He must have been wearing Tekkies—clear, thin stickers full of circuitry applied over each fingerprint which allowed one to navigate computers without the use of a mouse or keyboard—because he held one hand in the air and made a swiping motion to flick to a different feed on the nearest monitor.
“Damn it straight to hell,” he muttered to himself, flicking his hand more forcefully and causing all four displays to shift to new feeds. “It’s staring me right in the face and I’m missing it.”
Topher raised his eyebrows in interest when he recognized the surroundings in the video feeds as something in the heart of the big banking area. Four different views of the same golden building were shown on the monitors in front of him.
“What’s so interesting about the First Orbital Bank of Silveria?” Topher interrupted, and the man jumped in his seat.