The dining room is bright, despite the windowless and gray concrete walls. Several fluorescent tubes are buzzing on the ceilings, casting a piercing light through the spacious room. At each corner are guards in black uniforms with the emblem of NOS on their chests. They tightly hold machine guns as they routinely make their rounds through the rows.
Subjects are swarming everywhere. They are loud, shouting wildly, feisty and gesticulating. Most of them are children. None older than twenty-five. Since I have been here, I have not encountered an elder subject. If they are, they are renegades who stand against the system and NOS. No one is saying it but I suspect the reason. Children are manipulable. Educatable.
In this institution we are taught how to control our abilities and that serving the AUTHORITY is a gift. Without his protection, we would be dead. It's as simple as that.
A group of kids run past me as if the hall is their personal playground. Their laughter fills my ears and I feel a small smile on the corners of my mouth. It's a little obscure watching them play catch. They have lost everything. Their families and their homes. Yet they live contentedly within these walls that keep them from the world outside. They learn eagerly, fit together like a perfectly formed link, and obediently follow the orders of their supervisors.
Carefully, I meander past two girls and keep an eye out for a free spot. Finally, I spot my friends. I sit down right across Mason and set my tray on the table.
"Where's Claire?", I ask when I don't catch sight of her face.
"Still in Daegu," Mason mumbles with his mouth full, pushing the next bite of his burger after it.
Liam turns to me. "Don't worry about it. She's tough."
"I'm not worried," I counter. "I just thought she would be back by now."
Now Mason grins mischievously and leans over to me. Our heads are close together and his voice is right by my ear, amused and whispering. "So you guys can meet secretly on the rooftop?"
My hand shakes, almost causing me to drop my fork.
"There's nothing going on," I fight back, outraged by his insinuation.
"Are you sure?" Liam interjects, furrowing his brow. "There are rumors going around that you're a couple."
It's the first time I've heard that today. "Who would start such nonsense?"
Mason laughs. "Take a guess."
My gaze automatically wanders three tables over. Sitting between two boys is Peter. He's tall and lanky, and his wispy black mane makes his fair skin look even paler. On his lips is an unselfconscious giant grin. Inwardly, I wrestle with the idea of smacking it off his face, but the guards would certainly not approve.
I sigh. Because of his unassuming nature, Peter is an expert at gathering information. I just have no idea where he got the crazy idea that Claire and I are a couple.
"You should talk to her," Mason suggests. "Misunderstandings can destroy friendships."
I spear a potato and chew heavily. His words linger. All the scenarios that could lead to a misunderstanding play out in my head. Did I cross a line? Was it perhaps ...
Momentarily, I feel bad.
"Any idea when Claire will be back?", I ask.
"In four days," Isaac replies. "And now eat."
The tone sounds somewhat reprimanding and as if he'd like to reach across the table and slap me. Wordlessly, I reach for my glass of water. Isaac seems tired. Before today's training was over, he was called to the principal's office. Since his return, he has been on edge. As always when something gets to him. I wonder if it's related to yesterday's mission.
Fleetingly, my eyes roam the hall, looking for the boy.
Each of us is wearing the same thing: sweaters and sweatpants, all in a uniform blue. According to the supervisors, this is a way of encouraging a sense of community. No one is to be favored because of origin or style of clothing. There is something else behind this idea, but no one dares to investigate it.
Do not question it.
It is drilled into us very early. Many of the newcomers find it difficult to follow the rules, are made fun of by others and are made outcasts for their weakness, even though they themselves were once in their position. Frightened and completely helpless in an institution that is unfamiliar to them. Sometimes I hear their whimpers in the sleeping quarters. Buried under the covers, their bodies tremble and some of them play with the idea of harming themselves.
I have seen what happens if the rules are broken. NOS has effective methods to make rebellious subjects compliant.
And yet, I'm beginning to have doubts. If I'm honest, I've never stopped having them. I am not a puppet, even if they want to make me one.
My decision to follow NOS was not out of conviction or the chance of a cure. Even escaping death was beside the point. My decision was for his sake alone.
Irritated that I cannot find the boy among the subjects, I want to stop an overseer who is heading straight for our table, however, I am stopped from my intention.
Isaac snorts. "No appetite?"
"I just ..."
Sternly, he raises his voice. "You're thinking about the boy."
"I just think it's weird," I defend my behavior. "The intake screening should have been done by now."
Isaac looks at me, then says indifferently, "You can't change it, so whatever you think, let it go."
At that moment, the double door to the dining room is opened and the room abruptly becomes silent. I turn around. A young man in a white coat enters the room. Now it is so quiet that you can hear his powerful footsteps on the floor tiles. Although he radiates dignity, there is something childlike in his features. The expression on his face is exceedingly gentle as he lets his gaze glide through the rows of tables. He’s holding a silver clipboard in his hands. Immediately there is whispering behind me. Excited words are exchanged and a quiet 'good luck'.
I feel a chill run down my spine.
Is it that time again? Has one month already passed?
The man begins to read out names. The chosen ones are cheered and praised for their efforts. Proudly, they line up.
Being chosen for selection is our real goal. The chance to be healed and return to our old lives. A new beginning. Outside of NOS no one knows that such a drug exists. There is a strict information blackout. However, due to the strictly limited doses of vaccine, not every subject can be treated. It requires a ranking system - selection. For this, excellent results, absolute obedience and unprecedented behavior are required.
"Edgar," the man calls out the last name.
The boy's head shoots up. Completely surprised and speechless, he stands up. His teammates congratulate him before joyfully pulling him into their arms. It's the first time one of the younger ones has been chosen, and I don't get it. The boy came to the institution a few weeks ago. His results are mediocre and he makes many mistakes due to his naive nature. There are far better subjects who would be more deserving of his place. A quick glance around makes it clear that I am not completely wrong with my observation. Some seem disappointed, even envious and angry, but no one demands an explanation. Why should they? The AUTHORITY decides who is getting selected. Based on the reports of the trainers and the guard, our ranks are grouped. Only the S candidates are given the chance.
I look at the boy again. His last rank was E.
"The AUTHORITY thanks you. Your time will come."
It's the same words. Whenever a man in the ghastly white coat comes up to us and calls names, he ends his introduction with these two phrases. I guess it's meant to convey hope. Hope that the next time their name will be called out.
The subjects clap, stamp their feet, and shout their congratulations to those selected. I, on the other hand, notice Isaac looking after them with a thoughtful expression.
Then he stands up. "We're leaving."
I'm about to follow him when two supervisors suddenly block my path.
"Tobias Young?" Indecisively, I nod. "The director wants to see you immediately."
"May I ask what this is about?" Isaac asks with a put-on smile, pushing his way forward. His broad back shields me, almost as if he's trying to protect me from them. Which is absurd, because after all, our abilities don't work inside the institution. The bracelet prevents it. But for the gesture alone, I am grateful to him.
The supervisors remain unimpressed.
"We are not authorized to talk about this." One of them points to the double doors. "Now, if you will follow us."
Isaac remains stubborn. "I'm his team leader! It's my place to -"
"Isaac," I interrupt him gently. "It's okay."
I want to avoid getting him in trouble because of me. From what I can tell the two supervisors would have no problem reporting him. Some of them intentionally provoke fights just to take advantage of their position.
Reluctantly, Isaac lets me go. On his lips an unspoken 'Be careful'.
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