Luminosity (7 page)

When I look up at the Keeper, though, I can already tell I’m in trouble. “She was upset.”

“And?” The Keeper waits.

Say something substantial, Beatrice, I tell myself. “And I asked her what was wrong, and she told me about her Vision.” I realize when I say this that it will probably get the little girl in trouble, and immediately I amend my excuse. “After I told her to tell me, that is. She wasn’t going to otherwise.”

“So you asked someone about their Vision before I could ask them myself?” The Keeper’s questions come one after the other, almost as if she wasn’t listening to my replies at all.

“Yes, My Keeper.” My gaze shifts to Connie and Mae. The latter is biting on her lower lip, worrying on it until I can see a piece of skin peel off with the scraping of her teeth. Connie looks terrified, as if I were standing in front of a firing squad myself, waiting for my end to come.

“You know this is a violation of our rules, Seer Beatrice?”

The little girl continues to tremble. I haven’t let go of her hand yet. I feel as if there’s this connection between us now as we both witness the wrath of the Keeper. I wonder if it’s ever been done before, and a rebellious little piece of me rejoices in maybe being the first.

“Yes, My Keeper…but I thought, at the time, that it was the best for the girl.” I look to the child. “She is so scared.”

“Isabelle.” The Keeper pulls the datapad out, addressing the child. “Tell me about your Vision.”

Is that it? My reprimand is over? The question must read on my face, because Connie shrugs her shoulder, and Mae shakes her head ‘no,’ heading me off at the next question, which would be if I should try and leave or not. I stay put.

The child, Isabelle, retells her story about the Vision, and this time, when she’s done, I let go of her hand and stand up straight once more. The Keeper makes her notes on her datapad and when she’s done she nods her head, gesturing down the hallway. “Very well, Isabelle. Please return to your activities.”

Isabelle gives us all one long last look before turning down the hallway, walking as if she were in a daze with her hands on her head.

“Now, Seers Beatrice, Constance, and Mae.” The Keeper turns to regard us all as one group. “Might I ask your business on this floor? Aside from breaking policy and risking spending time in solitary confinement?”

Connie locks up, as she usually does when put into a confrontational situation, and it’s Mae who answers for us. “We were preparing for our research paper about how to better the young Seers and somehow incorporate them more into the Institution.”

The Keeper nods her head, but doesn’t look impressed. “And tell me, does that report entail prying into other’s Visions before I can properly inventory and study them myself?”

“No, My Keeper,” Mae responds in a tiny, mouse voice.

“And now tell me, have any of you been trained in the art of deciphering and inventorying Visions?” She fixes us all with a disapproving look.

“No, My Keeper.” Mae’s voice is even softer this time.

“So when Seer Beatrice decided it would be a good idea to counsel a girl about the extent of her Vision, neither of you thought it would be a good idea to stop her?” This question is directed to Connie and Mae, both of whom shake their heads and lower their eyes to avoid the Keeper’s stare.

“So you are all equally responsible for Seer Beatrice’s transgression.” The Keeper says this as if it is something that has already been decided. And it has been. She takes out her datapad and makes a few more notes. Notes about us, most likely.

“Seer Beatrice, I am not impressed. You are interfering with the duties of the Keeper—a very serious offense.” She puts her datapad away when she’s done making her notes, resting it back on her hip. “I think it is time for some disciplinary action. For the three of you, not just Seer Beatrice.”

“Disciplinary action?” Connie whispers.

“Yes. You three will spend the rest of the day scrubbing the Arena’s floors for the Training Games. They are very dirty, and it’s been a long time since someone has really given them a good washing.”

This doesn’t seem so bad to me. It’s better than solitary confinement, which I’ve heard is unbearable. I can scrub some floors, as long as it means the Keeper will leave me alone.

Which I know she won’t.

“Yes, My Keeper.” I’m the only person who remembers to speak in this moment.

“And I will be keeping an eye on you, Seer Beatrice. You have a great responsibility to this Institution, and I don’t want you distracted from this fact. Shape up, or I will have to do something more…permanent.” On that note, the Keeper walks off down the hallway, and all the children stop their running around just as soon as they see her coming.

Permanent.

I don’t know what this means, but I remember the words of the Widow, and I renew the promise to myself to not let Gabe out of my sight.

Chapter Ten

“Beatrice.”

I am at the border. It is quiet, and the guard towers loom overhead. The electric fence surges with energy, the low hum bouncing back and forth, stretching between each link. I don’t know why I am here. I only know that the clos
er I get, the louder the voice becomes. Inside, I feel as if I am close to discovering something I shouldn’t know.

Once I reach the fence, I stand in the shadow of the night—hoping the guard won’t see me. There isn’t anywhere else to go. I start to panic, limbs tensing, because it’s only a matter of time before the spotlight sweeps across, exposing me.

“Beatrice.”

The voice echoes from my right. I walk in that direction. My feet fall quietly on the ground, and I am careful not to make any more noise as I continue to slink through the darkness. When I reach the end of one of the sections of fence, I notice there’s a hole, and there might be enough space for me to crawl under the chain links.

“Beatrice.”

I have no choice. I need to figure out who or what is calling my name. I need to know what has been haunting my dreams, my Visions, and even my waking thoughts when I am clear-headed, lucid. Maybe he’ll know what to do about this situation, the live rounds at the Training Games, the threat of the impending invasion, and the sudden seriousness of it all.

Kneeling on the dirt, I shed my black robes in a pile by my feet. I can’t risk getting my clothes stuck on the barbed wire of the fence, though it’s also a risk leaving behind evidence of my being here.

I shimmy under the wire, my stomach and legs dragging in the dust, and then snake my way out to the other side. Carefully, I reach through the fence and tug my robes under. Despite the grime that covers the garment, I slip it around my form, wrapping myself up in its familiar comfort.

I now stand in a land of unknowns; no one I know has been outside of the City before. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember this is just a Vision. Or maybe it’s a dream? I can’t tell the difference until I wake up, and I can’t wake up because he’s still calling me through the darkness.

“Beatrice.”

For some reason, I feel the need to run. I need to get to where he is. An urgency surges through my body, and my fingertips pulse with the sudden rush of energy. We learned in one of our classes that the human body has two reactions: to fight or to run. I wonder why my body is choosing to do the latter. There is nobody to fight here, so what am I running from?

I race through the shadowy brush, my feet sometimes snagging on what feel like vines or the raised roots of trees. Except there aren’t any trees. It’s just flat, open land with a rolling mist that covers everything like a fluffy blanket. A faint light filters through the fog, but I can’t see where the glow is coming from. The sky is too dark and cloudy, so it certainly isn’t the moon.

I continue to run, and when I don’t think I can run anymore, that’s when I see him.

A young man, around my age, with stark blond hair, the fairest skin, and startling blue eyes. He wears plain robes of white with long sleeves that hide his arms and hands, and the trim is red, maybe satin. He’s watching me, and I stop walking.

“Beatrice.” His voice sounds so much softer, so much less demanding, but it’s still alluring. Entrancing.

“Who are you?” I can’t take my eyes off of him. Inside my chest, my heart beats too quickly. I’m afraid he can hear it just as clearly as I hear him now.

He smiles. It’s a handsome smile, one that makes me hesitate. In one of our preparedness classes, our instructor told us that the things we should not trust are the things we want to trust the most. For example, the most poisonous of flowers tend to be the most beautiful. The deadliest of animals tend to be the ones who are most interesting.

“My name is Echo.”

“Why do you keep calling me?”

“I must save you, and you must save me.”

“Save us from what?”

His smile fades, replaced by a sorrow and seriousness that doesn’t meld with his features. He looks at the ground. “From each other.”

“I don’t understand.”

Echo looks up, his eyes seeing through me. “You will. The invasion is coming, Beatrice. The plague has begun, and the Dreamcatchers need Citizens.” He reaches to touch me, but he must think better of it, because he immediately withdraws his hand. “I need to protect you. The invasion is coming…the plague has started…”

…

The piercing, electronic beeping of my alarm jars me out of my sleep. The first thing I do is grab the small mirror from my nightstand and peer into it. My eyes are not glowing. I did not have a Vision.

Echo was just a dream.

Still, the dream was so clear—like my Visions—that I’m left in a state of confusion. Do I report this, or not? Do I tell someone, or keep it to myself? Then I remember what the Widow told me, about dreams that are like Visions and Visions that are like dreams. I’ve been caught by a Dreamcatcher—there is no other explanation—but how is he getting to me?

I decide to keep the dream to myself. It’s easy enough to do when every time I close my eyes, I see Echo staring at me, telling me that we have to save ourselves from each other. What did I look like when I stared back at him, dumbfounded and lost? Why did he place his hope of being saved in me, anyway? Why did anyone?

I will drive myself crazy if I stay here, thinking of all the
whys
and
what ifs
, so I swing my legs over the side of my bunk and stretch my arms up over my head. Today is the first day of the new Training Games, and there’s a lot more that should be on my mind, like the fact that I could die. And for what? To take part in this stupid game that is supposed to prepare us for a fight against a people who somehow pop into our dreams without warning? How is a gun supposed to stop them anyway?

Everything is starting to unravel into a pool of nonsense. And standing in the middle of the pool is Echo, handsome and tall, pleading with me to save him. Save us.

I shake my head and force myself to get ready. Team A is first on the schedule. We are first into the arena, the first to use the live rounds…probably the first to kill, or die. As I slip my combat suit on and pull the zipper up to just under my chin, someone knocks at my door. I idly slap the release button and the door slides open, revealing Gabe, suited up and ready to go.

“Running behind today, are we?” Gabriel lacks all the conviction that he used with me the previous day. It is as if we’ve never gotten into a fight at all, and I immediately find myself wanting to tell him all about Echo. I want to pour out every detail to Gabe so that I don’t have to bear it all on my own. But I can’t. Something inside of me tells me not to, as if Echo were there, countering my every decision in regard to him.

“Yeah. I set my alarm a little later because I couldn’t fall asleep last night.”

Gabe drags his hair out of his face and it falls right back in place, some of it hanging over his eyes. It’s my favorite part of Gabe, that
I don’t care how I look
facade. “I don’t think you were the only one. Everyone is nervous about today.”

“With good reason.” I shove a foot into my combat boot and tug the laces until they are tight.

“I still can’t believe she’s doing this. Making us kill Citizen prisoners with live rounds. It doesn’t seem right.”

“It isn’t right, Gabe.” How could it be right? Even if they are convicts, sentenced to the rest of their lives in prison for violating laws of any degree, they still didn’t deserve to be prey.

“I know.” Gabe leans against the black lacquer dresser. “But, in a way, I wonder if we just don’t understand it right now. The Keeper knows what’s best, right? I mean, she’s seen what the Dreamcatchers can do.”

“Has she?” Now dressed, I nod toward the door, signaling that we should go. “I just hope she’s right. It would suck to lose you.” I realize what I’ve just said and quickly blurt, “Let’s go. We’ll be late.”

Gabe doesn’t move at first, at least I don’t hear his footsteps behind me. When I peek over my shoulder, he just shakes his head with a smirk and follows after. “It’d suck to lose you too, Bea.”

We are late, but we aren’t the only ones. As Gabe and I double-time to the arena, others lag behind, hesitant and unwilling to make much more of an effort to get there on time. I can hear some of them whisper as we pass, but it isn’t about us. The tension packs in the air so tightly that I’m starting to think I can’t breathe. When I look at Gabe, I notice his chest rising and falling quickly, like he just finished jogging a mile. Maybe he can feel it too.

As we round the last corner, I notice that the two teams have already lined up. Team A and Team B are both holding their new weapons, standard black machine guns. We will be working together to kill the convicts, but working against one another in terms of game points. There’s still a rivalry, a want to do better than the other team. To
be
better. Team A has been holding their own for weeks now, but Rachelle and the rest of Team B have slowly been creeping up on us and are near to besting our statistics. I can’t let that happen. I’m not giving Rachelle an inch.

Gabe and I fall into line behind the last person in Team A. Elan is a small boy with protruding ears who is skilled at sneaking through shadows and popping up when least expected. He’s one of the younger Seers at eleven years old, and pretty much keeps to himself most of the time. Today is no different.

One of the attendant Seers shoves a machine gun at me and one at Gabe. I take my weapon cautiously and let it hang by my side. I choose not to give it the respect it deserves. I won’t let it rule over my emotions and cloud my judgment once the arena doors open. I notice others who are pale and stark-faced already, and realize that these are the people who will probably fall first. I can’t be one of them. I need to stay alert, if not for my sake, then for Gabe’s sake, because I refuse to let him fall either.

The Keeper’s voice pulsates over the arena speakers, which also face outward into the lobby where we are all gathered. Gabe nudges me in the side and nods toward Rachelle, who stands stiffly, eyes distant and glowing.

“She had a Vision,” he whispers while examining his gun. “Hopefully, it will keep her distracted, and she won’t pull any stunts this time around.”

I don’t pay too much attention to Rachelle. I instead notice Connie shoving a shortbread cookie into her mouth before pulling her helmet over her head.

“Hey! I saved it from lunch. Why let it go to waste?” Connie smiles after finishing her snack.

I roll my eyes and nod her way, and Gabe catches sight of the crumbs tumbling out of her helmet and all over the front of her jumpsuit. He laughs, and it breaks some of the tension that is consuming us all.

“Next time, bring us all some cookies, huh?” I jest, but it’s half-hearted with the reality of what is to come.

“Welcome to the first advanced round of Training Games!” the Keeper announces, her voice rising above all others. Though we can’t see her, I can imagine the woman sitting in front of a microphone, watching us on multiple flatscreen holovisions, studying our various expressions of fear and uncertainty. Detached from the emotion, where she wants to be.

“Today surely will be a challenge for you, as you are the first teams to enter the arena and use live rounds. You will be the first to fall, the first to conquer, and the first to show us that we will not be helpless and unprepared when at last we have to face the onslaught of Dreamcatchers. You will shoot to kill, as you would our enemy.”

An image of Echo flickers through my mind. I see him standing, dressed in all white, with his platinum hair and piercing blue eyes. In his hands, he also holds an ominous black machine gun, though his stance is more confident and stiff. It’s not an image that comes and goes either, but instead it lingers, even when I close my eyes to try and will it away.

“You will also be the first to fall, and the weak will be quickly weeded out from the others. I have no need for Seers who can’t hold their own.” The Keeper pauses for a moment. Then, she continues to speak. “It’ll be a difficult day for us all, but in the end we must remember that we are doing this to protect the City and its Citizens from a horrible fate. Without us, they will be helpless, and it is our duty as Seers to guard and serve them. If it means I have to lose a few of you to make sure that we are the strongest we can be, then that is what will happen. We are a large Institution, and there are many of us to defend the City.”

In other words, some of us are replaceable.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabe shake his head. The intercom clicks off and we are left in silence. Soon after, the red light above the arena door starts to circulate, and the bright halogen bulbs flicker off, leaving us in the dark with rotating strobes of crimson.

Our team begins to march through the doors. We have three minutes to enter the arena and set up our positions. I look at Gabe again, wondering if I will see him when our time is up.

“We need to plan this out. I’m not going to have us be the first to die out here,” I relay to Team A through the intercoms in our helmets. “This is serious. It’s no longer about being zapped until we are unconscious. Once we are down in these Games, we are down to stay. Forever.”

I let the gravity of the word “forever” seep into the minds of the others. I want them to hear the word over and over again in their minds as they run through the simulated streets, hunting while being hunted.

“Let’s try and stay together. Find a partner and cover each other. Walk back to back so that one is looking in front and the other is looking behind. Look, listen, and communicate.” I glance up at the arena doors, then at Gabe.

The siren begins to wail. There’s no more time for talking. The convicts are released. Their doors open and they flee with weapons in hand, right into the holo city.