“Well, it’s not actually Nirvana,” Turon says. “Technically it’s known as the eighth dimension.”
I stare at him, unimpressed.
“Forget it. Let’s just stick with Nirvana.” He pinches the bridge of his nose before waving his hand dismissively. “I’m sorry for being a little melodramatic with the lights earlier. Sometimes the whole instructor gig goes to my head. Anyway, I was trying to make the point that the immortals have been keeping Worker City in the dark.”
“By not telling us about this so-called Nirvana?”
“They’ve used the working class to build Nirvana.”
“Now you’re sounding like a propaganda poster.”
Turon shakes his head. “You don’t understand. The working class are nothing more than slaves. The immortals oppress the workers in order to maintain their lavish lives.”
“No. It’s the twitch that oppresses us. The twitch is what divides us.”
Turon sighs and plops down on the stasis pod across from me. “I suppose we better both sit for this part.”
“Okay, we’re sitting.” I gesture for him to continue.
“There’s a cure, Ms. Bluehair.”
“I know. If we can master mind over—”
“A simple cure, a plant.”
“You mean the divine herb?”
He nods.
I laugh out loud. “But that’s just an urban legend, nothing more than a myth. Trust me, my mother—” I stop myself from sharing too much.
“I assure you, Ms. Bluehair, the plant is very real. A single dose of the divine herb is why I’m still here today. I was chosen. I was invited to join the ometeotl. Over one hundred years old, I am living proof.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” I stand to distance myself from him. “If the cure is so simple why wouldn’t the regime administer it to everyone?”
“Not everyone can live forever, Ms. Bluehair. The demand for resources would be too great, and there would be no one left to provide those resources.” Turon gestures toward the rows of pods. “Look around you. Of course you’ve wondered why there are so few immortals at ballgames. Perhaps you’ve wondered why we play such a passive role in your Masa training?”
I picture the empty streets of Immortal City and remember Izel mentioning the lack of scheduled residents in her building.
“Most of us only return to New Teo for brief shifts to recondition our physical bodies. The rest of our lives are spent in a paradise—no war, no work, no virus. Remember the truth you asked about earlier? The kernel of understanding you need to put everything else together? If you are ready to believe it, Ms. Bluehair, I’ll point you in the right direction.”
I realize I’m overly tense, as if preparing to attack Turon’s lies physically. I breathe deeply in effort to focus my mind. First, the mystery man tries to take Zorrah. Then Turon shows up behind the unlocked forbidden door. I can’t be sure whether the instructor is being genuine, or if this is all part of another elaborate trap to test my loyalty. “Why are you telling me this? Why bring me here?”
“Like you, I once wondered why the only door in the academy marked ‘No admittance’ failed to have a simple lock. Like you, I opened that door. Like you, I think everyone should have the option to live a full life.”
“If you’re so like me, then you know I don’t believe a teocuali bit of the teocuali trash dribbling from your mouth. For all I know, the people in these pods could be part of a drug trial to cure the twitch. The immortals could be sick, or maybe not so immortal after all. Maybe this is a prison camp full of our enemies.” I blot a bead of sweat from my brow and steady my breathing.
“All viable scenarios,” Turon nods. “In the end, only you can choose what to believe. While you ponder the possibilities, let me remind you of the reality in which I live.”
I glance from Turon to Zorrah’s stasis pod before nodding my head.
“You and your friends have already willingly submitted yourselves to the regime’s sifting process. The gears of Masa Academy were set into motion hundreds of years ago and haven’t stopped since. Unless the right someone stops them, those gears will continue to grind up the most promising resistance the working class has to offer.”
“Who? Neca?”
“Neca, you, your brother, even little Zorrah.”
“No, you’re wrong. There is no resistance. If there was, I wouldn’t be part of it.”
Sorrow returns to Turon’s eyes. “Perhaps you’re right.” Suddenly he slaps his thighs and stands. “Well, never fear. There’s still hope. The administration chose the likes of me despite my misgivings. Maybe they’ll choose you as well.”
He steps closer, assuming a menacing air for a second time in as many hours. “Meanwhile, Zorrah remains our secret.”
“But I have to tell—”
“Only you and I are to know she survived, unless you wish to place her life in jeopardy afresh.” Looming over me, his presence expands until the air crackles. He nods toward the lift. Obediently, I retreat.
On the way back to the cadet portion of the academy, I focus intently on my surroundings, memorizing the path back to Zorrah. The bio scan on the lift doors is the only real measure of security. I’m shocked to discover myself speculating whether Turon’s severed hand would still activate the scan.
Then again, he could be an actor on a stage. Even if his words are true, his intentions could be false. It hardly seems possible the immortals are currently dwelling in some paradisiacal dimension. If that were the case, only the masazin would remain to defend New Teo from external assault.
Turon stops a meter shy of the door separating administration from cadets. “Beyond this door, I am your combat instructor. I will show you no favoritism. Neither you nor I are to mention this experience again.”
“I figured that on my own.”
“Ms. Bluehair, watch yourself.”
I shrug. “We’re not on the other side of the door yet.”
Turon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well observed.”
“How will I visit Zorrah?”
“When Zorrah is fully recovered, I will initiate a rendezvous with you, here, on this side of the door. In class I will question you, ‘Have you pondered the possibilities?’ That night you are to open this door precisely one hour after lights out.”
“But what if—”
“You are not to initiate a rendezvous under any condition. If you pass through this door at any other time, you are on your own. Understood?”
I chew the inside of my mouth and nod.
“Very well. Unless there is something else, I suggest you scurry back to your barracks and scrape together whatever precious sleep you can before today’s tournament.”
“The tournament!”
Turon shushes me. “Lower your voice, Ms. Bluehair. Despite what I said earlier, there is still a contingency of immortals in this facility.”
“Sorry.” I quickly sift through the barrage of questions I have in regards to the tournament. “You know about the unfair conditions in the combat chamber, don’t you?”
Turon grins. “There are no such concepts as fair and unfair in combat, Ms. Bluehair. There are only factors known and unknown. Tonight, you and your team managed to transfer one of those factors from unknown to known.”
He sighs. “But you did so at a cost. What you do with the knowledge bought by Zorrah’s sacrifice is up to you. Likewise, your boldness and dedication to save Zorrah has bought you additional knowledge. Use it wisely.” He clutches his hands behind his back, assuming the statuesque pose I’ve grown accustomed to in his classroom.
I stop with my hand on the latch. “I almost forgot. Zorrah disabled the security.” I pause to ensure I don’t give away the presence of the icpitls. “Only she knows how to enable it again. She was going to do it after we got back to the barracks.”
Turon raises his brows, apparently impressed. “I wondered how the lot of you expected to move around at night without getting caught.”
“What if no one else can fix it?”
Turon shrugs. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Just promise me you’ll ask whether I’ve pondered the possibilities as soon as Zorrah is better.”
“I promise.”
With a whoosh, I slide open the door and cross back into the cadet half of the academy. By the time I turn to close the door, Turin has strode several meters in the opposite direction. For a few seconds, I watch him go. But like the watching eyes mounted on the walls, he doesn’t seem concerned by what action I’ll take next.
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