they all arrive.”
Joss stood, took a lumbering step toward them, and paused.
A track student appeared from the other side of the bleachers near Joss’s corner, a freshman or sophomore he didn’t know. The young man stopped as if he’d hit a wall when he saw Joss, backed up, tripped, and fell on his ass. He began crawling away as if a sea of man-eating turtles were about to get him.
“Hold on there, son,” Coach Buzz said. “It’s all right.”
Joss began walking over. “I’m okay, look, I ... just have this problem with my arms ... and head. But, I’m me. I am, really.”
“Wait,” Coach Buzz said to Joss. “Let him go.”
By the time Joss moved away from the frightened student, enough people had arrived that they were pushing under the bleachers. Joss walked to his folding chair. He extended his back so that he hid his face. He looked as if he were relaxing in the most awkwardly slouched position possible.
Joss began weeping, but he refused to leave his chair and face everyone.
He heard someone who Coach Buzz was trying to hold back approach out of the crowd.
“Get away,” Joss said, without looking to see who it was.
“It’s Simone. We met yesterday.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her and tried to wave. But it didn’t work, and he groaned. “Look at me! I can’t move my arms right!”
She walked around him, ducking under one of the bleacher rows.
Simone had mumbled her most basic mantra of calming until she realized that wouldn’t be enough. Her mother had taught her how to move through the different psy-katas and mantras to channel her entities, but she could only go so far. By the time she spoke to him, hearing the words as if someone else spoke them, she was as centered as she could be. When she saw what the Enemies had done to him, it didn’t phase her. She knew she would have been sick had she not protected herself.
He was branded, every bit of him blemished.
“They messed you up,” she heard herself say, hoping a joke would alleviate his suffering.
“My own damn fault. I got cocky. I knew they were probing Sterling. I just didn’t know why.”
His shoulders and arms were on backward, but not as if twisted by some horrible device. They looked like they had grown that way. And his neck, his spine, and his Adam’s apple had switched places. His head was truly facing the wrong way. She tried not to stare.
“Hard to walk?” she asked.
That earned a laugh.
She reached forward and placed her hands on his, feeling the circular brands on his skin. The tension that wracked him disappeared. He even sighed, and seemed to deflate into his chair. She felt a sickness that wanted to reach into her. But her lords were deflecting it. She was safe.
“There we go,” she said and pulled away.
Joss relaxed, as if he’d just dipped into a cool pool of water on a scorching day.
“I’m messed up,” he whimpered.
“I know. But there’s hope.”
“I’m getting ... worse. I want to do ... bad things. Inhuman things.”
She looked at him as if she’d known him for a lifetime and would do anything in the world for him. Something about the way he stared back at her made her wary, though. She stepped away. The anxiety returned and caused him to grimace. He said, “The Consortium’s going to tank me.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll be a specimen for the rest of my life. That sucks balls. Oh, that sucks.”
He began weeping again. “Don’t stare at me like that. I’m one of the smart people, really smart, and I know what the Consortium does with problems to the order of things like me. If they don’t outright liquidate you, they file you away in a laboratory somewhere, telling the world everything has been taken care of. But it’s a big lie, the Big Lie , that the Consortium tells the world to calm the superstitious.”
“What happened?”
“After you left the clinic, I fell asleep. I woke up with bio-dendrites extending from my skull, into the wall.” She saw a wild
Joss stood, took a lumbering step toward them, and paused.
A track student appeared from the other side of the bleachers near Joss’s corner, a freshman or sophomore he didn’t know. The young man stopped as if he’d hit a wall when he saw Joss, backed up, tripped, and fell on his ass. He began crawling away as if a sea of man-eating turtles were about to get him.
“Hold on there, son,” Coach Buzz said. “It’s all right.”
Joss began walking over. “I’m okay, look, I ... just have this problem with my arms ... and head. But, I’m me. I am, really.”
“Wait,” Coach Buzz said to Joss. “Let him go.”
By the time Joss moved away from the frightened student, enough people had arrived that they were pushing under the bleachers. Joss walked to his folding chair. He extended his back so that he hid his face. He looked as if he were relaxing in the most awkwardly slouched position possible.
Joss began weeping, but he refused to leave his chair and face everyone.
He heard someone who Coach Buzz was trying to hold back approach out of the crowd.
“Get away,” Joss said, without looking to see who it was.
“It’s Simone. We met yesterday.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her and tried to wave. But it didn’t work, and he groaned. “Look at me! I can’t move my arms right!”
She walked around him, ducking under one of the bleacher rows.
Simone had mumbled her most basic mantra of calming until she realized that wouldn’t be enough. Her mother had taught her how to move through the different psy-katas and mantras to channel her entities, but she could only go so far. By the time she spoke to him, hearing the words as if someone else spoke them, she was as centered as she could be. When she saw what the Enemies had done to him, it didn’t phase her. She knew she would have been sick had she not protected herself.
He was branded, every bit of him blemished.
“They messed you up,” she heard herself say, hoping a joke would alleviate his suffering.
“My own damn fault. I got cocky. I knew they were probing Sterling. I just didn’t know why.”
His shoulders and arms were on backward, but not as if twisted by some horrible device. They looked like they had grown that way. And his neck, his spine, and his Adam’s apple had switched places. His head was truly facing the wrong way. She tried not to stare.
“Hard to walk?” she asked.
That earned a laugh.
She reached forward and placed her hands on his, feeling the circular brands on his skin. The tension that wracked him disappeared. He even sighed, and seemed to deflate into his chair. She felt a sickness that wanted to reach into her. But her lords were deflecting it. She was safe.
“There we go,” she said and pulled away.
Joss relaxed, as if he’d just dipped into a cool pool of water on a scorching day.
“I’m messed up,” he whimpered.
“I know. But there’s hope.”
“I’m getting ... worse. I want to do ... bad things. Inhuman things.”
She looked at him as if she’d known him for a lifetime and would do anything in the world for him. Something about the way he stared back at her made her wary, though. She stepped away. The anxiety returned and caused him to grimace. He said, “The Consortium’s going to tank me.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll be a specimen for the rest of my life. That sucks balls. Oh, that sucks.”
He began weeping again. “Don’t stare at me like that. I’m one of the smart people, really smart, and I know what the Consortium does with problems to the order of things like me. If they don’t outright liquidate you, they file you away in a laboratory somewhere, telling the world everything has been taken care of. But it’s a big lie, the Big Lie , that the Consortium tells the world to calm the superstitious.”
“What happened?”
“After you left the clinic, I fell asleep. I woke up with bio-dendrites extending from my skull, into the wall.” She saw a wild
Similar Books
