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Chapter Ninety-One: The One with the First Talent Evaluation

  A woman in her forties stood outside a windowless door bearing a printed sign that read, “Exam Room Twelve.” She wore an over-starched white lab coat and large glasses that kept slipping down her pointy noise. Warm, brown eyes shone with relief when she glanced up from her clipboard and caught sight of me and Erik.

  “Natalia Lyons and Erikson Kelley?” she asked, double checking her clipboard to make sure she had our names right.

  “Yes,” we replied in unison.

  “Alexia Cruise.” She pointed to the name tag fastened over her left breast. “I am the Medic assigned to your panel. Ms. Choi is already set up inside, so we’ll begin as soon as you two are situated. We will have a short lunch break at noon,” she continued.

  “Sounds good,” Erik said. He reached around the older woman and grasped the doorknob.

  “I will get the first subject.” With that, Alexia Cruise turned and left.

  I followed Erik through the door to the examination room.

  Several machines with brightly lit monitors occupied one wall. A large one-way glass partition separated the main area from a smaller interior space. The smaller room contained a plastic table and three plastic chairs. My body shuddered involuntarily. The room reminded me, uncomfortably, of the interrogation rooms The Agency used to question suspects.

  Cadence stood with her back to us, typing furiously on a keypad. “Are you guys ready now?” she asked, continuing to type with a speed that rivaled any Crypto I’d ever observed. Her tone was pure irritation and, ordinarily, I would have made a snappy quip in response. Not today, though. Not after the charged morning I’d had.

  “Yes,” I answered softly.

  “Where do you want us?” Erik asked.

  Cadence turned and pointed to the interior room. “Take this, Talia.” She handed me a small electronic tablet. “All of the subjects’ files are loaded on there. There is also a list of questions for you to ask each one. I have the same files and will record their answers from out here, so you don’t need to worry about that.” Then she turned and spoke to Erik. “You understand your job?”

  “Determine whether the kid has a talent and mimic it.” Erik sounded like a bored student quoting lines from a textbook.

  “Exactly. See if you can get a feel for how strong each subject’s abilities are. A ranking of strong or weak is sufficient. If you can’t, though, don’t worry. The most important thing is that we accurately identify all the subjects with talents.”

  “You got it.” Erik gave her a thumbs-up.

  Cadenced turned her attention back to me.

  “I know what I’m supposed to do,” I snapped.

  I just wanted to get this over with. My patience was short and my temper quick.

  “I’ll let Ms. Cruise know we’re ready, then,” Cadence said stiffly.

  Erik rested his palm on the small of my back and steered me through the door adjoining the two rooms. We took our seats on the side of the table closest to the mirror. My hands shook slightly as I used the arrows on the touchscreen tablet to scroll through the children’s files. There were ten in all. I tapped on the first file folder labeled, “Bartholomew Barnes.” A gap-toothed boy smiled up at me from the screen.

  “He’s so young,” I muttered.

  Erik didn’t say anything. He just reached for my hand and squeezed.

  A sickening feeling slithered down the length of my spine as I looked around the cold, impersonal room. The sterile walls and bright-neon bulbs made my skin crawl. If I was this uncomfortable, I couldn’t imagine what it was like for a five-year-old.

  “Ready?” Erik asked.

  “As I’ll ever be,” I mumbled.

  Erik squeezed my hand once more. His anxiety matched my own and I wondered if it were a reaction to my trepidation or if the situation actually unnerved him. This was as foreign to him as it was to me.

  Several long moments later, Cadence, Alexia Cruise, and the same boy whose picture I’d just been staring at entered the room. Ms. Cruise set two bottles of water on the table while Cadence guided the small, sandy-haired child to the empty chair. The boy’s eyes were as large as the plates we’d eaten our breakfast on as he glanced between me and Erik. He wore a button-down blue shirt and neatly pressed khaki pants. The brown leather shoes encasing his small feet were shiny and new, as though this was the first time he’d had cause to wear them.

  Once the child was seated, Ms. Cruise rolled up the sleeve of his pale-blue shirt and withdrew a vial of his blood. Next, she injected a syringe full of clear liquid into the crook of his elbow. As soon as the entire contents had dispensed into his body, Ms. Cruise quickly placed a small, white square of gauze over the injection site. My fingers flew to the inside of my own arm, recalling the feel of the needle piercing my own skin when I received my medication. Respect for the boy’s bravery filled my heart. Finally, Alexia Cruise attached three wireless electrodes to the child—one over his temple, one over his heart, and one on the inside of his wrist.

  When she finished, Ms. Cruise gave me and Erik a nearly imperceptible nod before retreating to the other side of the glass. Cadence followed without comment. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Erik and he gave me an encouraging smile.

  I scrolled through Bartholomew’s file until I found the questions that I was supposed to ask. The first five were marked “Control.” Each question was one that we already knew the answer to and only asked to establish a baseline for the child’s heart rate and brain waves. The next set of questions was marked “Talents” and was actually a list of known talents and signs to look for that would indicate the child possessed said talent.

  Easy, I told myself. You can do this.

  “Hi,” I began, offering the boy a tentative smile in the hope of putting him at ease. “My name is Talia and this is Erik.” I inclined my head in Erik’s direction and he waved at Bartholomew Barnes. “We’re going to ask you a couple questions, if it’s okay?”

  The small boy nodded, the tension in his small shoulders relaxing slightly.

  “Good,” I continued. “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Bartholomew Barnes,” he answered in a clear voice. “But my parents call me Bart.”

  “Do you want me to call you Bart?” I asked.

  “If you want.” He shrugged and looked down to where his hands were clasped in his lap.

  “Okay, Bart. How old are you?” I asked.

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  “Five and one month,” he said proudly, raising his head to meet my eyes. “My birthday was on May 5.”

  “Happy belated birthday.” I smiled. The little boy rewarded me with a beaming, gap-toothed grin. “Did you get anything good for your birthday?”

  The question was certainly not on my list and I practically felt Cadence staring daggers through the glass partition. I didn’t care, though. The child was becoming more relaxed by the second and I saw no reason to not at least try to make the testing as painless as possible.

  “My mommy and daddy gave me a puppy. His name is Rover,” Bart told me.

  “Rover is a good name,” I replied, getting a little choked up for some reason.

  I never had a pet. My parents traveled so much on account of my father’s job that it would have been impossible. I didn’t know why the thought just occurred to me or why it made me so sad, but it did. Quickly, I glanced back down at the list of questions.

  I cleared my throat. “Where do you live, Bart?” I asked.

  “Richmond, Virginia,” Bart replied.

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “Yup, to see if I’m special.”

  He was so matter-of-fact, as though saying, “Water is wet.” I had to suppress a giggle.

  “Yes, to see if you’re special,” I confirmed. “Have you ever done anything out of the ordinary? Like change into an animal? Or hear somebody’s thoughts without them speaking aloud? Turned invisible?”

  “Nope.” Bart shook his head sadly.

  I’d established enough of a connection to know that he was telling the truth. I held his gaze and locked on his mind. Talents normally exhibit brain patterns unique to their individual gifts. I found no trace of such in Bartholomew Barnes. This wasn’t a definitive determination that he didn’t possess a special ability; some low-level Talents were hard for me to get a read on.

  “Bart, can you try and make the lights go out for me?”

  Bart’s face contorted in concentration as he gave it his best effort. The neon bulbs overhead didn’t so much as flicker.

  “It’s okay. Let’s try another one, okay?” I waited for him to nod before continuing. “Can you turn into an animal?”

  Bart slowly pushed his chair back, the metal legs screeching loudly as they scraped against the linoleum floor. He dropped to all fours and began barking in a decent imitation of a dog, but his physical appearance remained human. Erik snorted loudly next to me and had to cover his mouth to stifle any additional laughter. I elbowed him in the ribs even as I bit my own lip to keep from giggling.

  “Bart,” I said loudly over the boy’s continued barking, “that was great. You can sit back in your seat now.”

  Bart stood and took his seat. When he looked at me across the table, his eyes were unfocused and his facial muscles had gone slack. I glanced at Erik, alarmed.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I sent Erik.

  “The injection the doctor gave him had a mixture of an amplification drug and something to help the child relax. It must be kicking in,” Erik replied, sounding disgusted.

  “Amplification drug?” This was the first time I’d heard anything about an amplification drug.

  “If the child has weak or dormant abilities, the drug will help draw them out,” Erik explained.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. From a purely logical standpoint, it made sense, I guessed. But something about injecting children with any drugs didn’t sit well with me.

  “Bart, I’m thinking of a number. Can you tell me what it is?” I asked, anxious to get the session over with.

  “Four…. No, six…. No, one hundred and three,” the boy blurted out.

  None was correct. I continued working my way through the list of talents. After nearly an hour, I turned to Erik and shook my head. He nodded his agreement and turned to face the mirror. He shook his head. Two heartbeats later, Cadence opened the adjoining door and walked in.

  “You’re done, Bartholomew,” she said brusquely. She motioned for him to follow her from the room.

  The small boy rose and silently complied.

  I sighed once he was gone, equal parts relief that we were one down and dread that we still had nine to go. A throbbing started behind my eyes and I rubbed my temples with my thumbs. Weariness settled over me. I’d always disagreed with mandatory testing on principle, but seeing it in practice was worse than I’d imagined. The whole affair felt wrong and intrusive.

  “Why don’t I do the next one?” Erik asked gently, massaging the back of my skull.

  “I can do it,” I replied. “This is why I’m here, after all.”

  I leaned over and rested my forehead on the table while Erik continued rubbing his thumb up and down the nape of my neck. Even in the cramped interrogation room, with Cadence watching through the glass, I couldn’t help the thrill I experienced when he touched me. I imagined his lips on mine, his hands running up and down my sides, the way his muscles moved when I placed my hands over his chest.

  “Your emotions aren’t the only thing out of control today,” Erik said, laughing quietly.

  My cheeks grew hot and I started sweating under my jacket. What was wrong with me? We were in the least romantic place I could imagine, yet the moment Erik touched me, my hormones went nuts. One minute I was contemplating the injustices in the world and the next I was visualizing my boyfriend naked. There was something seriously wrong with me.

  “I’m not complaining. We could sneak off to the bathroom,” he joked.

  I sat up and lightly punched him in the shoulder. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” I replied dryly.

  “Okay, fine. I saw some couches in the lobby that looked comfy.” Erik caught my fist before I could hit him again.

  Cadence cleared her throat from the doorway. “If you two are done playing grab ass, we really need to keep going. Talia,” Cadence pointed a stubby finger at me, “stick to the script.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly. “He just seemed so scared. And I need to establish a connection before I can read someone’s mind.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain myself to Cadence.

  “Fine, but we have to get through ten subjects today. We won’t if you waste time putting them at ease,” she snapped.

  My temper flared. I don’t know if it was the fact that she continually referred to the children as “subjects” or that she thought it was a waste of time to make them comfortable, but I suddenly had an insatiable urge to attack her. I started to rise from my chair. Erik’s hand clamped down painfully on my shoulder, forcing me back down.

  “We’ll move faster with the others,” he promised her. “She’s just doing her job,” he reminded me silently.

  Erik sent calming vibes in my direction and I gratefully absorbed them. Usually, Erik’s efforts were more effective, but his inability to mask his own rage at her callous attitude did little to improve my mood.

  The rest of the day passed in a haze. Child after child sat in the chair across from me. I asked each the control questions and then walked them through the tests for each talent. I never got used to the vacant expressions or the sluggish movements that accompanied the drug cocktail. Out of the ten children we interviewed, three exhibited talents.

  By the end of the sessions, I felt more like I’d spent the day sparring with Erik than sitting in a chair. My head ached and my stomach was twisted in painful knots. The thought of three more weeks of testing was daunting. I wondered if maybe I’d been rash in accepting the assignment; ignorance truly was bliss. But then again, as I’d been learning lately, I’d been ignorant too long.

  When we finally wrapped up for the day, Erik convinced me to wait while Cadence finished entering all the data and shut down the computers. Despite wanting nothing more than to go back to my hotel room and put the day’s events far from my mind, I agreed. If I were going to spend three more weeks with Cadence Choi, I needed to learn to be civil. Fast.

  The three of us wound our way through the maze of hallways back to the main atrium. Cadence kept Erik engaged in a steady stream of conversation as we joined the line of Operatives waiting for rides back to the Hamilton. I remained silent, lost in my own thoughts.

  In theory, I understood using the amplification and calming drugs. And maybe to someone that couldn’t read minds, the calming drugs appeared as just that, but there was more to them. After they’d taken effect, the children weren’t just relaxed; they were like zombies. The chemicals made the children dull and listless, almost like they were hypnotized or under strong compulsion. If TOXIC could justify the use of such drugs on children, what was to stop them from using them on everyone else? Where were they going to draw the line?

  You have no idea what your Agency does to innocent people. The words Crane had spoken to me ran through my head, as they so often did when I had doubts about TOXIC’s actions.

  When our turn finally came, I crammed into a large SUV with Cadence, Erik, and two other Operatives I didn’t know. Our short ride back to the hotel did nothing to put me at ease. Families huddled together on the sidewalks outside the testing center, waiting for the city buses to carry them away. Mothers wept openly, clinging to their small, well-dressed children. These mothers knew their time with their kids was now limited. In three weeks, their “special” offspring would be ferried to the School to start their new lives.

  I wanted to reassure them that their children would have a more complete life, a more normal existence now that they were to be surrounded by peers with similar abilities. But the more I saw, the more I learned, I wasn’t so sure I believed that.

  Other families laughed and joked, secure in the knowledge that they would be returning to their homes with their non-talented kids. I hated the fact that for some of them, their happiness would be short-lived. Once the blood results came back, at least a handful of previously labeled non-talented children would be reclassified and teams of Operatives would be dispensed to retrieve them. I’d never been more ashamed to be a TOXIC Operative.

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