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The Centre was unremarkable to say anything if one were to exclude the world's largest torch in the square that led to Middle Landing which was Evan's ultimate destination. Envision this: promiscuous buildings of structural ingenuity holding up the imposing, overlapping train tracks high above you and the near unnavigable maze of streets crawling with people going about their business and then right smack in the heart of it all was one luminous beam of light, twenty feet high, called the Nexus.
Evan charged towards it, mentally calculating just how much of a delay the train wreck was. He glanced at his watch on his right wrist, a plain matte black metal bind that when touched displayed a hologram version of the time in digits. Right now, it said that if he didn't get back to Middle Landing in the next five minutes, the fate of the woman and her son would pale in comparison to the punishment that would be dealt to him.
This thought gave him a bit more speed as he nimbly dodged pedestrians to get to the queue lining up for the Nexus and slowed just in time to avoid bumping into a stout old man with thinning grey hair in front of him.
The operation of the Nexus was simple: step through the bright beam of light (once you got over the fear of being burnt to a crisp. Honestly, whoever had the brilliant idea to design the Nexus unsettlingly similar to a polarizer was clearly a cynical sociopath!) and onto a platform with a radius of two metres, announce, very clearly, which level you wished to go and the machine would teleport you to the designated level.
Very straightforward...except Evan remembered one time when a first timer, a fidgety middle aged woman with a plait skirt that skimmed her knees and a white blouse under a pink knitted sweater, climbed into the Nexus. All was well until she failed to announce clearly the level she wished to go to.
' "Um, uh, High Landing, President's Office," she had said, her voice coming out wobbly and squeaky.
"High Landing, Press Document Office," the AI said back, "Is that correct?"
"Yes...I mean, no! Not correct!' she wailed, her face paling.
"High Landing, Press Document. Nexus, activating."
"No, WAIT!"
Then she did the worst thing possible, she jumped out the platform just as the teleportation was at work and then...well, let's just say that a human shish kebab did not look as appetising in his head as it did in real life.'
Finally, it was his turn. He stepped through the beam, the light nearly blindsiding him for a second before he stood on the platform. The noise of the city was immediately cut off and the AI sounded, unlike the trains, its voice was a cheery feminine tone.
"Welcome, traveller, to the Nexus. Where would you like to go?"
"Middle Landing, the Institute."
"Middle Landing, the Institute. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Middle Landing, the Institute. Nexus, activating."
Evan couldn't describe the sensation of teleporting either then feeling of falling from a high place while getting pressed flat from above like sizzling veggie patty but knowing that he's ridden the Nexus several times before, the novelty of if had long since burnt out.
Few seconds later, he stepped out of the Nexus and into what they called the Plain, the central square of Middle Landing. Beneath the leather booted, rushed feet of his was a large field of grass so green it looked fake (and it was), above was the Dome over sixty feet in height that reveal not only the marvellous sight of each star of the galaxy but also the exterior structure of the final level of Elysium, High Landing. It looked, at least to a much younger Evan, like the cross between a palace and a spherical spaceship of a metal called cynasium that glowed a pale white light, the only outer light source of Middle Landing.
Evan ignored the sight that had long since painted itself in his mind and raced for the iron gate, his jaw clenched as he mentally counted down the seconds before he made it.
Sixty-five, sixty-four...
He pushed open the gate and raced down the deserted street and past the architecture of Middle Landing was vastly different from Low Landing. Instead of dwarfing, building-block structures, there were stout military-like bases of so black a steel that absorbed the light. Right now, there was no one milling about in them as he knew that everyone was inside the Institute...his home and prison.
The Institute was very much a fortress in its own right: six metres tall walls rigged with not only the kind of tech that meant you could not stand within a three metre radius without simultaneously combusting but patrolled by Metrons armed with polarizers commanded to kill on sight, 24/7...
So, obviously that meant that no one was allowed in or out of the Institute without explicit permission from the Commander which also meant that Evan was breaking the law, not like that mattered. The real issue was getting back in before his Supervisors discovered he was gone.
When he crossed to the street that led from the Plain to the Institute, he headed to an alley between two closed buildings. The darkness enclosed him and he got to his knees and felt around the hard-pack ground for the manhole.
When cold steel met his shaky hands, he lifted the lid as quickly and looked down the hole. Even in the darkness, he could still make out the dull gleam of a ladder leading down in the dark. He climbed in and carefully slid the lid back in place.
It was cold down here, his breath came as little wisps of steam but his hoodie kept the warmth in. He climbed down the ladder as the temperature continued to drop and his feet met solid. Running blinding in the gloom, he stopped when he met a solid wall. He shuffled to the side, feeling around for the second ladder and climbed up, shoving the second manhole's lid open.... on the other side of the wall.
You're probably asking yourself three questions.
What the hell did the architects, with such brilliance to design a school so heavily protected it was considered impenetrable, fail to note the most obvious pitfall?
Pure arrogance and a lot of trust in fireworks and bored-out-of-their-mind guards.
How did Evan come to find this escape route when the fear of being fried six ways to Sunday would have had anyone pee their pants before even attempting it?
Pure coincidence and just a touch of unmeasurable insanity.
What would happen if anyone EVER found out about this escape route?
....he'd be fried six ways to Sunday and then some.
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The halls of the Institute had as much personality as the pallor of a dead maiden's face. Pristine white all around leeched any rushing feeling of temporary elation at his escape.
He was back. Yay.
He walked at a leisure pace, trying not to appear suspicious in front of the many cameras on the walls that followed him down the hall to class. To either side of him was glass windows revealing the classes that were already in session. About fifty students in each class, listening intently with dead eyes at their Supervisor droning on about who-cares-what.
Evan could sense the trailing eyes of the others he passed though he tried to ignore them. At the end of the hall was the door to his class. He could see the other members of his division seated on the pale wooden desks in front of their Supervisor through the window, though the door blocked him from seeing who taught them.
His shoulder turned taunt as his heart began to pick up, loud enough that he could hear the blood rush to his ears. Each step closer was the tolls of a mourning bell. Please don't be her...please...please.
It was no use because when he opened the door, there she stood.
"Mr Nightlark! How nice you to join us," intoned Miss Kali, their Supervisor who taught them Math.
You see, everything about this middle-aged woman was perfect. From her wardrobe of a simple tweed jacket and pants of a deep mulberry to her perfectly manicured nails that tapped periodically against a china cup of chamomile tea. Her posture was unassuming, collected, inviting as she perched over her white desk. Her expression was much the same, relaxed, artfully blank as she watched him approach under the lashes of her brown, sombre eyes.
Everything about her was so effortless, essential if you wanted to hide everything that you are...everything that would make any child run away screaming.
"You're late," she said plainly. It was her tone, really, that gave her away.
Calm with a pinch of disappointment.
Would have been perfect...if Evan wasn't an empath.
What lay underneath was much akin to a wolf licking the warm blood from its lips.
"Thirty seconds and three milliseconds, in fact," she added and held out a marker.
He knew what that meant; everyone knew what that meant. It's why everyone held their breath. He walked over to her and took the marker from her. Her smooth skin touched him for just a second, sending a shiver through him because it was as cold as an old corpse.
"The equation is on board, thirty-one seconds will be removed from your time. Fail to finish or get the wrong answer will mean one minute in the Freezer, understand?" Mrs Kali said, staring him down at him in what he knew she thought was a sympathetic expression. It wasn't.
He nodded then turned away to the white board behind her.
a^n+b^n=c^n
Mrs Kali looked down at her watch and set the timer for one minute and twenty-nine seconds.
"Begin."
Evan set the pen to the board and after a slight pause, he set to work. You have to know something-besides the buzz of mathematical methods that set his thoughts in a nervous jumble.
-Something about this school. It wasn't you run of the mill school of everything from cringey high school teachers to your average bands of delinquents or misfits.
If the six metre tall walls of destruction were any constellation.
Here, instead of detention, you got a docking of your food ration till you've starved enough to look half dead.
Instead of getting called to the Principal, you get called to the Commander who then throws you in a special vault they called the Freezer, where they let you stay in temperatures ranging from -2 to -6 Celsius.
Sometimes higher...if they really set on getting for Frostbite-eaten fingers in a jar.
Instead of getting expelled, you get put into solitary confinement, where the doctors experiment on your levels of tolerance to induced nightmares before you descend into irrevocable madness.
Yes, yes, this place was...interesting.
Sweat beamed down his brow, causing a maddening itch in the back of his neck. But he couldn't spare the time to scratch. A full minute had already gone by and Evan could tell that he was bearably half way through solving this equation.
You could hear nothing, besides his stiff breathing, Mrs Kali patting at her teacup with an annoying clank-clank. Or the other students, still as mannequins, staring at his back so hard you would think it could burn a hole in his grey shirt.
It was down to the final seconds and he could literally feel everyone on the edge of their seat. Except Mrs Kali, of course. Outwardly she revealed nothing, inwardly her inner wolf was partially growling with relish.
Well, seems a trip to the Freezer is long overdue, said a traitorous voice in the back of his head.
Shut up! Snarled another, one that sounded like the real him.
Rebellious. Desperate. More than a little touched in the head.
Then the intercom sounded and a voice much like the cheery tone of the Nexus AI spoke. Calling to the one place he'd always dreaded and feared. Worse than a sentence to the Freezer. Worse than being fried by polarizers.
"Evander Matthew Nightlark. Report to the Commander's office immediately."
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