It does dull the pain. I look up to thank Etander, but he's gone already, disappearing out the door with his sister.
"Listen up, you demonic thing," I inform my know-it-all. "You are going to take me to Nola. You are not leaving out any more important details. You are not letting me make a fool of myself."
"I'm a know-it-all, dear, not a miracle worker."
"I mean it. Or I'm cutting your feed from
Love Among the Stars
"
"You wouldn't
dare!
"
"Try me."
"Hmmph. Very well. Stand up from the table. Turn left. Walk twenty paces. Go through the door. Turn rightâ"
"You're pushing it, Britannica."
"They
are
important details."
I groan. "After this, being tested for superpowers'll be a picnic." I stand up, turn left, and walk twenty paces out the door.
CHAPTER 7
Placement
SO WHO'S MISS THREE?" I ask as I do yet another lap around the common room, too nervous to sit. I feel like a pinball, rattling around waiting to be bounced in or out of the game. "I thought she was training the Principals right now."
"She is," says Nola. She sits cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with a bundle of blinking wires and mechanical guts that hang from the wall. "She's an artificial intelligence, but she's got three different simulacra. Did that translate? You know what I'm talking about, right?"
I stop pacing. "In the movies on Earth, the Als are usually the bad guys."
"Well..." Nola twiddles with one of the wires, zapping it with her wrench.
"I don't like the sound of that."
"She
is
a bad guy. Was, I mean. She was created by the Mandate, years and years ago."
"And you invited her onto your Tinker ship? I thought the Mandate were the Big Bad?"
"The Ringmaster reprogrammed Miss Three himself. He wanted to learn about the Mandate, and Miss Three can teach us."
"So you can fight them?"
"You cannot fight the Mandate," says a voice that bites my skin like a static shock. I whirl around to see a ghostly figure in a dark suit that definitely was not there a moment ago. The hologram holds a clipboard and stylus as insubstantial as herself. With her slicked-back hair and perfect bone structure, she reminds me a lot of a department store mannequin.
Nola stops fiddling with her wires and scrambles to her feet. "Miss Three, this isâ"
"Our beloved Ringmaster's newest recruit. Beatrix Ling. Lately of Sol-3, commonly called Earth by the distressing melange of individuals that live there," says Miss Three. "Currently unclassified."
I straighten my shoulders. "I'm ready for your tests."
"Convinced you're something special, are you? No doubt he's already filled your head with dreams of being a star."
I stare right back. No way some microchip is getting me riled up.
She gives a little shrug, then runs a stylus across her clipboard. "Let's get started, then. We'll begin with the medical examination."
An hour later, I've been poked and pricked and prodded enough for a hundred checkups. I lift weights, run on a treadmill, jump, tumble, balance, and throw darts at a screen. All the while Miss Three watches, like it's all some faintly amusing practical joke.
Nola hustles around silently, fetching this or that instrument when Miss Three requests it, occasionally shooting me reassuring looks.
I'm trying harder than I've tried for anything in my whole life. I know I nail the physical tests. But I don't warp gravity. I don't shoot lightning out of my fingertips. Aside from my pink hair, I'm depressingly normal.
"That's enough, Nola," says Miss Three. "Clearly Miss Ling has only an average degree of visual recall."
Nola gulps and flicks a switch. The shapes vanish from the wallscreen.
"Wait! Let me try again! I
do
have a good memory. I've got practically every constellation memorized."
"All well and good, Miss Ling, but I'm afraid our audiences are unlikely to be entertained by a recitation of crude astronomical nomenclature pertaining to a sky they will never see."
"But Miss Three, there are still otherâ" begins Nola.
"No. It's clear
"Listen up, you demonic thing," I inform my know-it-all. "You are going to take me to Nola. You are not leaving out any more important details. You are not letting me make a fool of myself."
"I'm a know-it-all, dear, not a miracle worker."
"I mean it. Or I'm cutting your feed from
Love Among the Stars
"
"You wouldn't
dare!
"
"Try me."
"Hmmph. Very well. Stand up from the table. Turn left. Walk twenty paces. Go through the door. Turn rightâ"
"You're pushing it, Britannica."
"They
are
important details."
I groan. "After this, being tested for superpowers'll be a picnic." I stand up, turn left, and walk twenty paces out the door.
CHAPTER 7
Placement
SO WHO'S MISS THREE?" I ask as I do yet another lap around the common room, too nervous to sit. I feel like a pinball, rattling around waiting to be bounced in or out of the game. "I thought she was training the Principals right now."
"She is," says Nola. She sits cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with a bundle of blinking wires and mechanical guts that hang from the wall. "She's an artificial intelligence, but she's got three different simulacra. Did that translate? You know what I'm talking about, right?"
I stop pacing. "In the movies on Earth, the Als are usually the bad guys."
"Well..." Nola twiddles with one of the wires, zapping it with her wrench.
"I don't like the sound of that."
"She
is
a bad guy. Was, I mean. She was created by the Mandate, years and years ago."
"And you invited her onto your Tinker ship? I thought the Mandate were the Big Bad?"
"The Ringmaster reprogrammed Miss Three himself. He wanted to learn about the Mandate, and Miss Three can teach us."
"So you can fight them?"
"You cannot fight the Mandate," says a voice that bites my skin like a static shock. I whirl around to see a ghostly figure in a dark suit that definitely was not there a moment ago. The hologram holds a clipboard and stylus as insubstantial as herself. With her slicked-back hair and perfect bone structure, she reminds me a lot of a department store mannequin.
Nola stops fiddling with her wires and scrambles to her feet. "Miss Three, this isâ"
"Our beloved Ringmaster's newest recruit. Beatrix Ling. Lately of Sol-3, commonly called Earth by the distressing melange of individuals that live there," says Miss Three. "Currently unclassified."
I straighten my shoulders. "I'm ready for your tests."
"Convinced you're something special, are you? No doubt he's already filled your head with dreams of being a star."
I stare right back. No way some microchip is getting me riled up.
She gives a little shrug, then runs a stylus across her clipboard. "Let's get started, then. We'll begin with the medical examination."
An hour later, I've been poked and pricked and prodded enough for a hundred checkups. I lift weights, run on a treadmill, jump, tumble, balance, and throw darts at a screen. All the while Miss Three watches, like it's all some faintly amusing practical joke.
Nola hustles around silently, fetching this or that instrument when Miss Three requests it, occasionally shooting me reassuring looks.
I'm trying harder than I've tried for anything in my whole life. I know I nail the physical tests. But I don't warp gravity. I don't shoot lightning out of my fingertips. Aside from my pink hair, I'm depressingly normal.
"That's enough, Nola," says Miss Three. "Clearly Miss Ling has only an average degree of visual recall."
Nola gulps and flicks a switch. The shapes vanish from the wallscreen.
"Wait! Let me try again! I
do
have a good memory. I've got practically every constellation memorized."
"All well and good, Miss Ling, but I'm afraid our audiences are unlikely to be entertained by a recitation of crude astronomical nomenclature pertaining to a sky they will never see."
"But Miss Three, there are still otherâ" begins Nola.
"No. It's clear
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