I often tell people I’m a professional liar. After all, I make up stories for profit (or at least on good days I make a profit). My boys are well aware that most of the words that come out of my mouth are “for entertainment purposes only.” I’m not to be held liable if you actually believe something I say and adjust your life accordingly. You know. It’s like buying a bong “for novelty purposes only.”
The thing is, I’ve been witnessing the strange evolution of “truth” right along with the rest of you. I’ve helped my boys navigate these troublesome waters. A few weeks ago my eldest son had his first serious wrestling match with “urgency” in advertising. He’s been really jonesing for this certain Amibo triple pack (not to be confused with triple-threat amoebas). But this particular item isn’t commonly available for sale in the United States. After a couple hours of surfing sketchy sites on the internet, he found what he thought was the jackpot. The pack he wanted was 66% cheeper on this particular site than on any other. And there were only three left! Oh, dear lord! And they had sold twenty of them in the last 48 hours!
He had to buy those mother-loving Amibos immediately. Call quick loans! Take out a second mortgage! No time to argue about it, they only have three left! After a few minutes of psychedelic freak out worthy of Animal from the Muppets, I calmly explained one of the more common tactics of sleazy advertising to my naive twelve-year-old.
Look, I explained to him, they only have three left…until they sell those three. Then suddenly they will have a dozen more. No, my son shook his head. They only have three left.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Why do you think they want you to believe they only have three left and they will never be able to get any more? Why do they tell you they only have three left?”
“I don’t have time for this! I need to buy it now!”
“Exactly,” I say. “They want you to buy it right now. They don’t want you to research their site more closely and discover they have terrible consumer ratings. They don’t want you to figure out they are selling cheep knockoffs.”
Momentarily, my son is torn between whether or not to believe his lying father…or the internet—his beloved internet that would never lie to him.
I give him as loving an expression as I can muster. “It’s called creating a sense of urgency. It’s basically lying in order to trigger a purchase from you.” I continue with another example. “Every time I purchase tickets on an airplane, the site will say something like Only four tickets remaining. That might technically be true at the time. Whether it’s true or not, the site selling the tickets wants me to feel like I have to buy them right now, or I’ll never get the chance to travel to Tallahassee again.”
After a broader discussion on truth in advertising, my son finally (reluctantly) accepted that in this case I was more likely telling him the truth. He learned a valuable lesson. The internet had betrayed him. Every 3g network is the best 3g network. Crappy fast-food will make you happy. It’s not soda…it’s vitamin water…yeah, that’s right. Take your vitamin S! (all 32 grams worth!)
Lest you think only large corporations lie via the internet, it turns out that a ton of people are lying on the internet! Holy crapamundo! Did you come across any of these top 100 fake news stories in 2019? (I’m personally offended that there were three stories on Nancy Pelosi and not one about me! What’s a guy gotta do to be the focus of ridiculous false accusations in the guise of bombastic social-media-style-journalism?)
So what’s my point in all of this? I guess I’m trying to say that maybe we’ve reached a point where fiction isn’t as fictitious as the rest of the gobbledygook we’re bombarded with on a daily basis. Just maybe reading more fiction will help ground us in reality. [Here are some more of my favorite advertising lies!]
At the Desk This Week
The kids are “going back to school.” (Whatever that means.) One thing it means is that I’ve got to find some sort of routine so I can buckle down and start cranking out the words. I’m making progress with The Green Ones, but I’m going to have to triple my output over the next few months. I think I will be able to get there with a few more adjustments to the weekly schedule. Here’s blood in your eye! (That’s what we authors say to each other. You know, after staring at the computer for hours on end.)
Boundaries: Ep.1, Scene 6—Scene 11
[Click here to start at the beginning.]
Dim blue lights line the hall, making our progress smooth and easy. For the second time in the same day, I’m struck with the oddness of how empty the passage feels and the overwhelming sensation of being where I’m not supposed to be. How did I become such a strict rule follower that I struggle to function in a place with no spoken rules?
We tarry outside the combat chamber long enough for Zorrah to touch base with Icpitls One and Two.
“How do you even know where we’re going?” Yetic has done nothing but object every chance he gets.
Zorrah places her hand on the door lock. “I studied the schematic last year.”
“Yetic,” I run interference before he can mouth off more, “I need you and Cera to take lead. Make sure the cost is clear, but stay within visual contact. Give us a flash if we’ve got unexpected company.”
Cera smiles, “Right.”
I put a hand on Zorrah’s shoulder and wait for her to open her eyes. “Which way next?” Zorrah points before closing her eyes again. Yetic huffs and jogs in the direction Zorrah pointed.
Briefly I wonder if I’m teaming Cera and Yetic too often. She and I are the only ones who work well with him. I’ve known she likes him since registration day. But I’m sure she wouldn’t try anything, not while Yetic and I are coupled.
Soon after they leave, Zorrah straightens. “There’s not too much more the icpitls can do from here on out. Without a portable storage device large enough, I can’t transport them to the control room. But I’ve instructed them to ensure the eyes stay offline until I say goodbye from back at the dorm.” Zorrah fights to hold back tears.
I had wondered why we stopped to check in with the icpitls in the first place. Now I understand. I wrap an arm around her. “Sounds good, as long as you can get us into the control room and talk to whatever program runs the combat chamber.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Zorrah smirks, “as long as you guys are up for a climb.”
“I was just thinking this was a nice night for a climb.” Neca swoops in and takes Zorrah’s hand. She quickly latches onto his forearm while stifling a giggle.
Olin and I exchange a look that says, how do we put up with them. But we’re both smiling. I try not to. It’s no use. “Alright then,” I say after the fact, “lead the way.” Everyone is already scampering down the hall, leaving me to take up the rear.
I look over my shoulder as I run to catch up. There’s no reason for me to suspect we’re being followed. On the other hand, there’s no reason not to expect the halls to be crawling with probes or worse. As far as I know, no one has dared leave the barracks after lights out.
From somewhere deep inside me a thought surfaces. I hope this has never been done. It’s possible the goal of fixing the tournament could have been a convenient excuse to push the unspoken boundaries. Maybe I’m not so much a rule follower as a people pleaser. Since it’s impossible to know what the administration wants, maybe I can give the rest of us what we want.
But what’s that? At first the answer isn’t obvious. Then it hits me. Freedom.
Before I turn a corner to follow the rest, something causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I stop dead in my tracks. My breathing goes suddenly shallow, but something prevents me from turning around.
“Calli Bluehair.”
I spin on the balls of my feet. Instinctively, I lower my stance and prepare for a fight. The unidentified voice dissipates so quickly, I can’t be sure I heard it at all. I step back while scanning the dim corridor from floor to ceiling. The nearest eye seems to ripple with a nearly imperceptible blue luminescence.
I shake my head and focus again. It’s gone. No one’s watching. I’ve become paranoid.
“Calli.”
I jump and nearly land a jab to Olin’s face.
He dodges it. “Whoa there, punchy. You see something?”
I scan the length of the hallway again and shake my head. “I thought I heard something. Wait, you didn’t hail me, did you? I mean, with your mind.”
He narrows his eyes and leans close. “You hearing voices?”
I scoff. “No. I just thought. No. Why would you—well, maybe. I don’t know.” I finish with a huff.
“Look, it’s creepy out here by ourselves, I’ll admit. But you gotta get a grip.” He grabs my shoulders and nods toward the others. “Are you ready for this?”
Neca has already removed a ceiling panel. The others stand at attention, ready for anything that might come our way.
I smile and wink at Olin. “No going back now. Let’s climb.” I warm to the moment. This is my element. These are my people and we’ve got a mission. I stride into the middle of the six from Serpent 6. “Zorrah and I will take lead. Yetic, you bring up the rear. We’re already off the grid, but we’re heading further still, so stay alert. If anyone sees anything threatening give either a flash or chirp, as the situation dictates.”
Neca jumps down and lands on the pads of his feet without a sound. “All clear, commander.” He winks, barely perceivable in the dim lighting.
I chew the inside of my cheek then choose to ignore him. “You first, Zorrah. I’ll be right behind.”
Zorrah places her bare foot on the wall and begins scaling it.
As soon as she reaches the ceiling, I follow. In the dim blue light, the dimples in the wall are invisible to the eye. Aiming for them blindly takes a few repetitions to get used to. By the time I poke my head through the opening in the ceiling, I’ve gotten the hang of it. I gaze upward. It appears the rest of the climb will be in pitch black.
The six of us proceed without a word for a few minutes. The holds aren’t quite as deep as I would like, but the plasteel of the wall provides excellent grip. As long as I keep my body tight against the wall, it’s easy going. “How far is it?” I call up to Zorrah.
“To the top of the combat chamber. I don’t remember exactly, at least forty meters.”
“A little climb, huh?”
“Hey, it’s even further when you’re short.”
“Point taken.” The brief conversation dies, and I focus on my breathing. In the quiet, I grow increasingly aware of the space around us. In the complete absence of light, I shut my eyes and focus my other senses.
The space is cramped and yet expansive. Judging by the gentle echoes of our movements, the crawl space extends up and down as well as side to side for the length of the combat chamber. However the academy manages to shield and isolate the chamber from the rest of the complex, the secret must lie somewhere in the space surrounding me.
My hand slips a tiny bit on one of the holds. I pause to wipe my sweaty fingers on my uniform. I breathe deeply and realize the temperature has risen. I suppose we have climbed closer to the surface. Perhaps the crawl space isn’t air-conditioned. I’ll just have to be more careful.
I turn my head to the side. “Mind your sweat. It’s getting warmer up here.”
“Really?” Zorrah responds from above me. “I thought it felt cooler.”
A driblet of sweat reaches my eye. I wipe my forehead with my shoulder. “I’m sweating like crazy.”
“Not me.” I hear Olin directly below, concern in his voice. “Anyone else?”
A chorus of muffled whispers and low grunts reaches my ears before Olin calls up. “It’s just you, Sis.” He lowers his voice so that no one else will hear. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Even as I hiss the words, the hair on my arms prickles.
They think I don’t know about my sister.
“Huh?” I shoot open my eyes and desperately scan the pitch black for the source of the mystery voice. My hands begin to shake, and I’m forced to stop climbing.
That I wouldn’t find her in the Shadows—that I wouldn’t dare to look.
White-knuckled, I clutch at the holds. My trembling makes it difficult to maintain a solid grip. “Did you hear that?”
Olin’s hand bumps into the bottom of my foot. “Hear what?”
“I—” I struggle to steady my breathing. “I heard it again. It’s the voice from the interview closet.”
“What voice?” Olin asks.
The old man was wrong, and so now I know about you, Calli Bluehair.
I don’t respond to Olin or to the voice. My mind teeters on the edge of seizure.
“Calli, come on, we can’t sit here all night. You’ve gotta keep climbing,” Olin prods me.
“He’s here. Or at least he’s here.” I thump my forehead against the wall. “He knows what we’re doing.”
“Do you want to go back?”
Now my legs are quivering. “No.” I try to wipe the sweat from my hands, but I can’t maintain my grip with only one. “I don’t think he intends to stop us.”
“Either way, we have to move.” Olin’s hand pushes up on my heel. “I’ll steady you. Just climb.”
Go ahead, Calli Bluehair. I’m curious to see where this leads. Indeed, I know about you. But I never know what you’ll do next.
A yellow flicker threaded with blue flames blossoms across the back of my hands. The source of light pulses rhythmically below the surface of my skin. It draws my eyes out of focus. Alive and mesmerizing, it starts to grow. I lean back in an effort to keep it from burning my eyes—from reaching inside me.
My center of gravity shifts. My grip fails, and my rippling hands follow me as I tumble backwards into the darkness.
“Calli!”
A blinding blue flash bursts into life and reveals the crawlspace. In the temporary flare of brilliance, I recognize a tangle of cords and cables spun between the wall and a series of shield panels. Everything goes black again, save the blue blobs burned into my retinas.
Jerked from my dream state by the sensation of falling, I spring into action. Based on memory alone, I grasp for the nearest cable. I overstretch.
It strikes me in the wrist and slips past. A second EM pulse pushes back the darkness. This time the pulse slows my descent but doesn’t stop it.
A metal cable strikes me full mast across the back. It knocks the breath out of me and pops every vertebrae in my spine. After spinning off of it, I mange to grasp the cable with both hands.
Numb, I stare upward, past my still-glowing hands to where I see Olin floating down to meet me. His blue hue steadily lights the crawl space. I lower my gaze and realize both Neca and Yetic had stabilized my fall. “Thank you.”
They both nod.
“I’m sorry I missed.” Hovering above me, Olin clutches my wrists. A jolt pulses between us, causing my eyes to flutter and my neck to jerk. “What was that?” Olin retreats, leaving me hanging.
“I don’t know. My hands,” I point with my chin.
Olin floats down level with me. Tentatively, he wraps his arm around my waist. This time there’s no jolt. “The skin on your hands—it’s like Citlali,” he whispers.
I nod as he detaches me from the cable. He waits for me to indicate up or down. “Up.” I exchange a quick glance with Yetic. I can’t read the expression on his face. Anger? Concern? “We’re still doing this. We have to.”
Olin flies slowly upward, picking a large enough path through the cables for the two of us.
I whisper in Olin’s ear. “The queen and I are connected somehow, because of my braid—because of what she did for me. But I think there’s someone else. I think Citlali has a brother, and he’s the mystery voice.”
“So he can connect with your thoughts because of his connection with Citlali? Do you think the two of them were once like us?” Olin’s pale glow finally reveals Zorrah, who must have continued climbing a few meters before realizing the rest of us had stopped.
I put Olin’s question on the back burner. “Zorrah, sorry about the delay. How are you holding in there?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
“Long story.”
“The mission’s still a go, right?” she asks.
I nod and smile. “Lead the way. Apparently I’m not a good enough climber to keep up without a little help from my bro.”
Zorrah resumes the climb, faster than before. “My parents used to claim I was a monkey right from the beginning. Couldn’t keep me from climbing out my window and down the exterior of our building during nap time.”
“And what trouble could you possibly need to get into during nap time?”
“Oh, well me and a neighbor boy used to—” she stops suddenly. “Well you know, kid stuff, I guess.”
“I know exactly what stuff you’re talking about. I think we must have shared the same two-timing neighbor boy.” I laugh while watching my brother closely. Under the scrutiny his cheeks begin to flush.
“Eh-hem,” Zorrah clears her throat. “We’re here.”
The hatch into the control room is locked. It takes Zorrah two seconds to override it. At my request she backs down a meter, allowing Olin and I to take lead.
With Olin’s help, I shove the hatch upward and climb through. The room is sparsely lit by a smattering of small lights and blinking LEDs attached to a bank of computer displays and a big board of switches. I rise to my feet.
Olin spurts through the opening to join me, and Zorrah is only a few seconds behind him. In less than a minute all six of us are crammed into the control room. Olin provides enough light for us to navigate the mess of equipment.
Cera breaks the silence, “So what is it exactly they do from up here?”
Zorrah answers by narrating her assessment of the workspace. “This switchboard channels raw telekinetic energy into assigned sectors of the combat chamber. The computers assign each of those sectors a 3D map.”
“So the plasteel walls and floors will assume whatever form the computer describes?” Olin asks.
“If provided with enough telekinetic energy to do so, yes.”
Yetic pipes in, “And these units over here?”
Zorrah spins in Yetic’s direction. “Unless I miss my guess, those are for organizing and controlling the series of shield panels we saw in the crawlspace. That’s how they isolate the chamber, through a series of redundant shields maintained by the same closed system of raw energy.”
“So when Olin blew this morning—”
“He temporarily drained necessary power away from the shielding, causing the whole chamber to shut down.”
I interrupt the lecture on telekinetic engineering, “As fascinating as all this is, none of it explains how we got cheated. How are they targeting the available energy and how do we stop them from doing it in tomorrow’s tournament?”
“I’m getting to that.” Zorrah dances across the room, careful not to trip on any cords, and takes a seat at a workstation surrounded by blank displays. She places her hand lightly on the keyboard, and the two dozen displays flicker to life. After a few quick commands, each screen fills with a different view of the combat chamber.
“So this is where they watch from.” Cera steps between Yetic and me.
I glance at her through my peripheral vision and see the glare of the screens reflecting in her eyes.
“By the looks of it, they do more than watch.” Zorrah continues to type. “From this workstation, a single person can manipulate the outcome.”
“What do you mean? Manipulate how? By changing the topography?” I don’t like the sounds of where this is going.
“By creating EM storms, by throwing up temporary shields, by changing topography, anything.”
“Wait a minute,” Yetic steps forward, “so all of our victories?”
“Oh,” Zorrah stops. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
I shake my head in a vein attempt to shake off a sudden wave of doubt and nausea. “You’re saying it’s possible someone wanted us to win? Someone helped us?”
Neca kneels beside Zorrah. “Did someone want us to win today? Did anyone help us?” He shakes his head and turns toward me. “We did that. You did it. This room isn’t about favorites. It’s about control. They don’t care who wins or loses, as long as they’re in control of the outcome. We upset that today, because we took control.”
Yetic puts his arm around me. “As much as I hate to say it, I think Nightmare’s right.”
“Okay,” I breathe deeply. “That means the question is, how do we keep control if the administration wants so badly to take it back?”
“We won’t keep control, not as long as we’re in the academy,” Neca shoots back.
I feel my temperature rising. “Well, what then?”
“All we’re trying to prove is that we can keep winning, despite the challenges.”
“On that note,” I turn toward Zorrah, “any luck figuring out how to level the playing field?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she huffs.
“What doesn’t?”
“I can’t find any evidence of the ability to focus EM energy along specific wavelengths.”
“So someone can change the playing field, but they can’t target anyone specifically?” Olin clarifies.
Zorrah nods while turning to face me. “Whatever happened this morning, it didn’t originate from here. The system simply isn’t set up to do it.”
“So we’re back to square one?” Cera asks.
Olin starts pacing in the cramped space between Zorrah and the hatch. “It’s a closed system. We all know that. But what if part of the system isn’t here.”
The rest of us stare at him, waiting for more.
“I don’t know, like a portable computer.” Olin hesitates. “I mean, what if something is missing?”
Or someone. The realization blooms within my brain.
Now you’re catching on, Bluehair. The mystery voice returns, this time clearly emanating from within my own thoughts. Your dark-skinned friend is right though. Control is fleeting. The voice washes over me until I’m no longer sure where I am or why.
In the background I hear Zorrah babbling on excitedly. “Of course! That means I’ll need access tomorrow, straight from the chamber.”
Maintaining control takes constant effort. Forget sleep. Forget friendship and love.
“How are you going to do that?” Olin asks.
“All I have to do is set myself up as a user. If I cover my tracks…
The best you can hope for is loyalty. Even that comes hard. Speaking of, the little one—it’s too dangerous for me to let you keep her.
“There. Now I’ll be able to get in and out and erase my user status before they even know I was here.”
Let’s see how you deal with losing one under your care.
Straining against the overwhelming current of the voice, I snap back into the moment. But I’ve lost something during the transition—some critical piece of information.
“All I have to do is execute—”
“Wait! Zorrah, don’t!” I’m too late. In horrifying slow-motion, her tiny body electrifies. Snapped taught and arcing in every direction, she dances in the current for a split second before being flung backward into the wall.
I’m the first to reach her twitching body.
I grip the sides of her head and lace my fingers in her hair. Running my pinkies behind her ears, I search for her carotid with my thumbs. Her skin is hot to the touch—the air thick with the stink of burnt hair. There’s nothing there—no pulse. My heart screams inside my chest, pounding enough for the two of us.
I don’t care what anyone says. I’m in control, and I will not allow this to happen.
Pressed tight against her skull, my fingers ignite. Creeping yellow flames spread across the surface of the skin on the back of my hands. This time I desire the tongues to spread. I surrender to them. Claim me, consume me—whatever the price, I’ll pay it.
The living fire spreads across Zorrah’s face, then down her neck. Veined with darkness, the cold flames dive beneath the surface. I watch pulses of energy come and go until my eyes flicker shut. Tumbling, I steel myself against the inevitable collision that awaits. Whatever happens, I’ll never remove my hands. I’ll never let Zorrah go.
In the spiraling darkness of my mind, I sense the presence of too many others. Each clamors to gain voice—some offering advice, some condemnation. I bar them from my thoughts. I focus on the memory of Zorrah’s laugh and her sparkling eyes. I am in control. I am in control. There is nothing left of me. Only Zorrah.
A hot vice clamps onto my shoulder, unleashing the storm that has gathered inside me. I try to stop its escape. I flail desperately against the unassailable current while ever-reaching in my mind for the picture of Zorrah’s happy smile framed perfectly on her doll-like face. Then the darkness explodes, taking my awareness with it.
“See anyone?”
“All clear.”
A conversation pierces the veil around me in broken fragments.
“So what are we going to do when we get back to the dorm?”
“I don’t know.”
I recognize the voices. At least I think I do.
“Zorrah barely has a pulse, and my sister—I can’t find her. I mean, I can’t hail her.”
It’s Olin. I recognized my brother’s voice through the fuzzy barrier surrounding me like a jumbo-sized ball of cotton.
“Never mind the fact we can’t even touch her without getting zapped.”
The other voice belongs to Neca. And earlier I had heard Cera. Suddenly I remember the mission. I remember the voice of the mysterious man in my head. I remember Zorrah stretched tight with electricity. Emblazoned across my thoughts, the image serves as a new road marker in my life. Rage and fear buzz beneath the surface until I’m able to reconnect with my body.
My fingers move. My lips twitch and I croak inaudibly, “Zorrah.” With raspy voice I repeat the word, this time out loud, “Zorrah.” The barrier containing me jerks to a stop. I realize I’m floating in some sort of stasis.
“Calli’s awake,” Neca says. He’s the one closest to me.
I force my eyes open. Their faces are blurry, but I recognize Neca and then Olin. My brother is carrying Zorrah. The tiny girl seems only a husk of the warrior I remember.
I reach for her, but a swimming light swells to prevent me from making contact.
Olin withdraws defensively. “She’s alive, barely.” He moves around me while maintaining weary eye contact. “What happened in there?”
“Come on,” Cera interrupts, “we should keep moving.” As she hobbles past, I realize she’s supporting a wounded Yetic. He’s mobile but silent.
Neca nods. “Cera’s right. We can figure this out at the barracks.”
We all start moving, me still in stasis.
I lift my hand to my face. The shock of what I see rises like an ocean wave and drives me beneath the surface. I gasp for breath. The solid quality of my skin has been replaced with light and color, like the gleaming yellow of a cat’s eyes against the black of night.
I cough and my breathing comes in fits. I writhe within the containment field. I need to feel something solid. This isn’t real. How can any of this be real?
“Calli, relax.” Neca moves into my field of vision. Light streams from his hands, blurring his face and adding to the dreamlike quality of my surroundings. “We’ll be back to the barracks in a few minutes.”
“Put me down,” I snarl.
“I don’t think that would be—”
My right hand spasms, forcing me to clutch it with my left. As I do, a large plume of living fire pulses against the inside of the containment field nearly bursting it. My awareness flickers as a cacophony of voices and unbridled thoughts assail my mind. I fumble for which voice to possess—for which fork in the road to travel in order to affirm the identity of Calli Bluehair. The ocean waves rise again and push me under.
Olin, help.
“Set her down,” Olin demands.
“But—”
“She’s losing control. Do it now!”
Knocked to the ocean floor, the waves roll over me. But finally I’m grounded. I feel something cold beneath my palms—not the sand and silt of the ocean, but the plasteel of the academy. I know where I am—Masa.
“I am Calli Bluehair,” I say out loud. I leave my eyes closed a moment longer. Drawing a full breath into my lungs, I let the odor of the academy reaffirm my reality.
What happened? Olin appears in my thoughts loud and clear.
His presence brings further comfort. It was a trap. The man from the interview booth—he’s testing us. I shake my head. No, he’s testing me. Zorrah, I shiver as I see her ablaze in my mind’s eye, was collateral damage.
What do we do?
I open my eyes and stand of my own will. The corridor quivers in my peripheral vision. Objects and people steady when I stare directly at them. Cera shifts her feet, growing tired under Yetic’s weight. I try to catch Yetic’s eyes, but he refuses to look at me.
Neca and Olin are the only two who choose to engage me directly. I realize I’m emanating the same terrifying effect the queen had borne the night of our first encounter in the Shadows. How much worse it must be to see the transformation occur to someone close—someone you thought you knew.
Finally my eyes fall on the unconscious, possibly dying, Zorrah cradled in Olin’s arms. With a tear in my eye, I remember the words the queen had spoken over me before restoring my braid—the burden of responsibility I had so gladly accepted. Zorrah is my responsibility.
I am Calli Bluehair. With a final shiver, I shed the invading presences from my mind and latch onto my present mission. I extend an open hand toward Zorrah.
This time my brother doesn’t flinch.
The quickening flames are gone—my skin returned to normal. My hand on Zorrah’s cold forehead, I know what I must do. “The rest of you are to return to the barracks as if none of this ever happened. I’m taking Zorrah to the one responsible for her condition.”
Olin shakes his head. “You can’t.”
“Remember, we haven’t broken any rules. How can we when there aren’t any rules to break?” I run my arms beneath Zorrah’s negligible weight. For a moment, both Olin and I are holding her. “Everything we’ve done tonight will be part of our evaluation.”
I dislodge Zorrah completely from Olin’s grip. “But there is still one thing they need to evaluate.”
“And that would be your hard-headedness?” Neca winks, indicating he understands even as he gibes me.
I breathe deeply. “I won’t rest while one of mine is hurt. Not until it’s made right.”
“But the tournament,” Yetic speaks up for the first time since the control room—since, I’m assuming, I unknowingly crippled him. “We didn’t fix anything.”
I look him in the eyes. Now that my skin no longer creeps with flame, he returns the gaze. “With any luck, we’ll be back by tomorrow’s tournament.” I glance up at a nearby clock. Its hands glow lightly in the blue-lit corridor. “Check that, by the tournament later today.”
Yetic grimaces. “So after all this, we’re just going to take it as it comes.”
“They’ll make sure each victory is harder than the last,” I nod. “They’re testing our limits. We need to show them we don’t have any.”
With that, I stride smoothly down the corridor, leaving the others to stare at my back as I go. I’m heading for a door at the far end, a couple hundred meters distant. All I know about my final destination is that the door between here and there reads, “Administration only. No admittance.”
I shrug to myself and shift Zorrah’s weight in my arms. Perhaps those words represent a rule after all. The only rule in Masa Academy—the rule I’m about to break.
END Episode Seven
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