《78 Palilas》


 Prologue

    Vincent Svoboda sat on the very corner of the maroon leather sofa, scotch in one hand, a nearly burnt-out cigarette in the other. The one-bedroom condo apartment was dark, safe for the glare from the screen of the laptop teetering on the edge of the glass coffee table. The air was stale and dense with smoke. It was a hot and humid night in Rio, and although all the windows and doors to the flat were open, the air stood still. Vincent noticed he was holding his breath again. It seemed even the wind held its breath in these turbulent times. On the screen illuminating his face, was a news broadcast from three hours ago. The audio seemed muted, although in his current state of shock, the former biological engineer of Bio-Reach Research, could not tell for sure if it was or if his hearing had failed him. The segment cut rapidly through footage inside various emergency rooms across the city. Chaos defined every frame; doctors and nurses running in every direction; patients, vomiting on themselves while sitting in waiting rooms. Sweating, sickly-looking fathers were holding their unconscious children in their arms. Every gurney was full. People keeled over, lined up on each wall.


    Vincent rubbed his forehead with the shaky hand that held the now burnt-out cigarette. The ash blackened the inner edges of his index and middle fingers as they press together firmly against his forehead. He placed the glass of scotch on the side table next to the couch and tossed the butt weakly into the ashtray next to it, missing it by several inches.


    There was a weariness when he stood that made him light-headed and unstable as he walked out to the balcony overlooking the sleek, high-end apartment buildings of the blocks surrounding his apartment. The sky was black and starless. Sirens wailed in every corner of the city.


    Vincent felt the swelling heat of nausea rise from his chest through to his neck. He turned to the dead potted plant to his right just in time to vomit the contents of his stomach onto the dry, dusty leaves of the long-dead Sunrise Hibiscus. The husk of the once vibrantly coloured flower bush collapsed under the pressure of the projecting stomach bile. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Vincent knew that he, too, was now infected. From what he knew of the MC5045-R1 virus, he would be dead by the end of the week. The one difference between him and the other unfortunate, now terminally ill souls in the city below, being rushed here and there by ERMTs in and attempt to save them, was that Vincent was one of the few that deserved this fate. He was after all, one of the creators of this global death sentence.


    The group of three ambitious and egotistical bioengineers from the biohazards and mutations division of Bio Reach were responsible for the catastrophe at hand, yet creating and curing the ¡°unstoppable¡± virus was the target of every bio-engineering facility in the world at this point in time. Everyone wanted to have the ultimate ¡°bug¡± that they created and could subsequently eradicate. The theory was that if you could cure a virus designed to outrun the limits of human science and natural immunity within the controlled environment of a laboratory, you could cure any outbreak that arose in the natural world.


    Unfortunately, nature is an unpredictable beast, and the finite, complex organisms that made up pathologic viruses were not yet fully decoded by the scientific community. With limited understanding, these biohackers were feeling their way through a dark minefield. One slight change in temperature or particle shifting into the wrong place could revoke the small amount of control that an engineer may have over his microscopic Frankenstein. Subsequently, one carelessly washed hand could transport said micro-monster into the outside world. Trace amounts under the fingernail of an engineer with an affinity forfavellaprostitutes couldspread invisible terrors throughout the city like an August wildfire.


    Vincent fell to his knees onto the concrete, unsure of whether it was the bug currently ravishing the cells of his body or the extreme sense of guilt tightly bounding his chest was responsible for the sick rising once again in his throat. The first component of the project was a masterful success. They had undoubtedly created the mother of all viruses. These Founding Fathers of the extinction of humanity had not even given their creation a proper name. It would forever be known to the few that would survive its global devastation as The Sickness.

 Chapter 1

    The small private jet door opened in one swift motion, letting a powerful gust of dry, Australian spring air flow throughout the cabin. Six passengers and two pilots lined up at the entryway, waiting to exit. Emelie stood third from the door, closing her eyes as the strong wind hit her face. For a moment, it was almost as though the last ten months had never happened. The brisk, fresh air brought her momentary relief from the constant torment. She was taken back to her life before everything ended when flights to foreign countries meant meetings with high people in high places. She would eat catered food in the boardrooms of office buildings that overlooked entire cities, discussing branding strategies with executives to help them pedal whatever useless crap they were selling. Afterward, she would brush off the triviality she felt towards her chosen line of work and call her adoring husband. He would praise her for a job well done. The thought of Adrian sent a sharp electric current of pain up her spine into her throat. It must have been the tenth time it had happened that day, and it wasn''t even noon yet. She clenched her jaw and forced her eyes open. Her instinct was to push out negative feelings; however, these shockwaves she felt when she thought of her late husband were the only emotion she could discern anymore.


    The group descended the staircase to a small airstrip. Half of the passengers had been sought out and recruited from various places in Europe and the middle east; the other three were the recruiters. The only distinction between the two groups was the matching gray outfits and tan jackets the recruiters wore.


    The sun shined brightly overhead, contrasting the coolness of the wind with its dry heat. In the distance, a building looking no bigger than a shed stood to the left of them. It was the only structure in sight. The landscape surrounding them suggested that they had landed in the heart of a never-ending desert. Nothing indicated to Emelie that they were, in fact, just outside of Sydney.


    A shuttle bus pulled up to the group now collected at the bottom of the stairs. The door slid open, and a disheveled looking young man in a grey and brown, ill-fitted knitted sweater, wrinkled tan pants, and tattered brown leather shoes stepped out.


    "Good morning!" he exclaimed as he smoothed his hands over his pants in a fruitless effort to rid them of their rumpled appearance. "I hope the flight was bearable for you all." The group remained silent and expressionless. They had all traveled a long way¡ªsome much longer than others. Emelie knew very little of the other passengers. She knew that those dressed in grey cotton shirts and pants were part of some organization seeking to rescue the remaining few of the human species.


    One of the women, a young Haitian doctor, named Christine, found Emelie in Lyon. She was the first living person Emilie encountered in five weeks. As seemingly every person in the city, and possibly the whole country died around her, Emelie never so much as had a sniffle.


    Before finding herself the sole survivor in a city of hundreds of thousands, she had been informed that most of her friends, family, and worst of all her husband back home in Vancouver, had died. Like so many, Emelie had rushed to the airport when news of the first outbreak in Canada broke. She had been in Naples on a business trip and was trying to catch the next plane back home when reports indicated that nine thousand people had died in only forty eight hours after the first confirmed case in Montreal.


    The virus spread quickly throughout communities. The victim would be asymptomatic for the first two weeks before it began to wreak havoc on their system. It was able to go undetected by the immune system as it mimicked natural bacteria in the body while spreading to each vital organ. Once it had cells in every corner of its host, It would launch into a full attack and decimate the victim within a day or two. The fatality rate for those unfortunate enough to contract it was one hundred percent.


    It seemed the entirety of the European continent panicked simultaneously and needed a flight to somewhere other than where they were. Some were trying to get home. Some tried to run from the inevitable. Everyone mobilized in terror. Emelie tried every airport she could find throughout Italy, France, Portugal, Spain, and Germany but to no avail. For three sleepless days and nights, she searched for any possible way to get to Adrian. In the early morning of the fourth day, all hope abruptly ended when Adrian called her, speaking at a barely audible tone. He had contracted it. He and everyone they knew was sick. They would all pass within the week.


    Five days after she lost Adrian, outbreaks were reported in eight major cities across Europe and thirty or so worldwide. The virus was airborne. It was unstoppable. The last living person Emelie saw was in a park near a pond in Lyon. She was a young girl, no more than ten years old. Emelie sat next to her, gently stroking her arm until she was gone. The girl never reacted to being touched. She had lost consciousness long before she stopped breathing. Emelie sat there for hours, stroking her arm, looking over the still water. The air was stale and smelled of nothing. All sound muted around her. Numbness was all that was left.


    Emelie lost track of time entirely after losing Adrian. She only started to piece together a timeline a few days ago, when Christine explained what happened globally and what other survivors like Emelie were doing in the aftermath. She explained to Emelie that there was a facility in Sydney where survivors were gathering in the last stronghold of humanity. Emelie was in no state of mind to retain the details Christine provided but figured she had nothing left to lose and agreed to join her. After walking the empty French streets for months, she would give anything to be around the living again.


    Emelie looked at the two other recruits. She wondered how long they had wandered deserted cities and towns before being approached by those in grey. How easily did they agree to take the journey to humanity''s last refuge?


    "Please take a seat in the shuttle, and we will be on our way." said the young man in wrinkled attire.


    The shuttle drove through the empty city of Sydney, taking side roads and slowly maneuvering around the abandoned vehicles with doors wide open, cluttering the middle of the streets. There was no one in sight, living, or dead. Dogs and other small animals ran in and out of the open doors of the shops and restaurants. It appeared as though the end of the human race had little effect on any other species.


    Emelie looked out the window at the sights that had become all too familiar to her. She wandered similarly desolate streets. It was rare to come across the deceased in public places, aside from hospitals and long term care homes. Bodies of the homeless could be found in alleyway corners and parking garages. Occasionally, she came across the corpses of those that had the misfortune of being the last of their social circles to die and chose to spend their final moments in parks or rooftops - places that may have held sentimental value to them. Most died in their homes after attempting to isolate themselves from contraction or spreading the illness. Once it became clear that she was alone in Lyon, Emelie quickly became wise to what areas best to avoid encountering the bodies.


    The entire city was covered in a layer of orange dirt. "We had a dust storm a few days ago," said the man who had escorted them from the airport seated in the shuttle''s front passenger seat. He had introduced himself as William. His accent suggested he was a native to Australia. The driver, a small blonde woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, never said a word the entire journey.


    "You''re all quite lucky we found you. You''ll be the final rescues before we go into lockdown," William said as his bright green-yellow eyes scanned the three newcomers seated behind him. He ran his fingers through his curly and wild, dirty blonde hair which paired well with his overall unkempt look.


    Emelie considered what he had said, pausing on ¡°before we go into lockdown." She felt the urge to press William on it, but could not muster the energy to speak. Giving in to the mental exhaustion, she decided that her need to probe for more context came more from habit than genuine curiosity. She should care to know what was about to happen, but the numbness manifested that day by the pond in the park she could not remember the name of had taken over completely. The natural survival instincts needed to motivate vigilance no longer generated a sense of caution or fear in her. The feeling seemed mutual among the other rescues.


    After a few hours of careful navigation through the city, they pulled up to a small building on the outskirts. The structure looked to be no more than one story with two large, steel entrance doors and no windows.


    "Well, here we are!" said William loudly, visibly startling the young recruit seated next to Emelie. The driver exited the van, and a second later, the sliding door slid open with such force, it created a loud bang and the tiny girl sitting beside Emelie jumped in shock once more.


    "If you all could step out of the van, please," William said, standing sideways, next to the opened door. One by one, the shuttle passengers stepped out onto the dusty concrete parking lot. There were two more vans in the lot with people exiting them as well. All of the recruits wore the same sullen, tired expressions of people who had known nothing but heartache and loneliness for the better part of a year.


    "Please make your way to the entrance." William guided the group with an outstretched arm towards the steel doors. No one spoke. They maintained a line formation while walking towards the doors.


    As they drew closer to the building, one of the doors opened slightly, and William rushed ahead of the group to pull it open. Emelie and the others walked into what seemed to be a lobby of sorts. It was a brightly lit room with dark blue walls and a black desk in its center. A single steel door was located behind the desk.


    "If you could all be so kind as to follow me." William bellowed as he walked towards the only other door in the room. His over-compensating "chipper-ness" was becoming quite nauseating to Emelie, and she didn''t seem to be alone in that sentiment. She saw the young man''s profile standing just a few feet ahead of her gently sigh and roll his eyes. He must have caught a glimpse of her smirking at his reaction, Emelie thought as he turned towards her and snickered quietly. He was tall, fresh-faced, and sweet-looking with sharp, green eyes and shaggy, curly brown hair. Based on his athletic yet lean physique, the band t-shirt, bright purple high top sneakers, and canvas backpack he wore, Emelie figured he was no more than twenty years old. He looked to the ground for a moment then slowed his pace just enough for her to catch up.


    "Doesn''t he seem a little too happy for someone who just witnessed the apocalypse?¡± the young man said in a hushed tone once Emelie stood to his right. She looked up at him and saw that smirk again, only this time there was a bitter sadness tugging at it. It was as though she could feel the torment he held inside, having lost every person he had loved over the last year. An image flashed in her mind of him holding a much younger girl, lifeless in his arms¡­his sister. Emelie quickly broke eye contact and looked down to the ground, trying to shake off the moment''s intensity. She didn''t understand what just happened, but it seemed she witnessed what he had seen as though it was a memory of her own. She couldn''t handle it. Her pain was already too heavy to carry. She couldn''t bear imagining the possible scenarios that the others must have seen.


    Emelie leaned in towards the boy, making sure to keep her eyes firmly forward so as not to make eye contact and said, "My guess is the apocalypse is a step up from his old life." The young man snickered quietly again, and she felt a momentary wave of relief sweep over her. At first, she assumed the feeling came from hearing his endearing chuckle, but somehow she knew it had not manifested within her. It felt as though it had been projected onto her by another. Her mind had simply assumed it. He, too, seemed to notice something odd. From her peripheral view, Emelie saw a quizzical look on his face. She continued to avoid direct eye contact. The young man dropped his focus to his feet then popped his head back up, looking forward. He reached his left hand over towards her.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "I''m Jacob," he said to her, a little louder than he had been previously speaking. She hadn''t noticed his distinctly French accent until he pronounced his name "Jah-cob". Looking down at his hand, she took it into hers.


    "Emelie" she said, pronouncing it with a French accent to let her fellow francophone know they shared a mother tongue. His eyes lit up as he turned his head sideways to pull her attention towards him. She hesitatingly obliged.


    "Enchante!" he exclaimed as quietly as he could.


    "Fran?aise ?"


    "Canadienne."


    ¡°Ah! Canadienne. C''est joli, Emelie.¡±


    He was indeed French, thought Emelie with a grin. The world had just ended, and he could still manage to lay on the charm. She nodded a thank you to him. Something was nagging at her. She couldn''t shake the feeling that something was so familiar about him, as though she knew him well somehow.


    "Please. After you." Jacob gently put a hand on her shoulder to guide her ahead of him through the doorway. This time his touch was electric. She could not deny or explain it away. Emelie felt a sudden whirlwind of emotions. Images from memories began to flash before her rapidly of a life she did not know.


    In one, Emelie found herself laying on a towel at a beach with ''her'' parents and two younger siblings, a brother, and a sister¡­ the sister that she saw in the "vision" when she first made eye contact with Jacob. Next, she was at a dinner table with the same family sitting around her. The more she saw, the more she connected with the scenes. They felt too real not to be her experiences. What identity she knew before entering this stream of conscientiousness was rapidly falling away.


    The memories then flashed back to that awful scene; a little sister in her arms, limp and lifeless as she stands in a small living room, facing an open door to a balcony. The child¡¯s skin is clammy and cold. The air is so heavy it¡¯s like trying to breathe in water.There is nothing to indicate to her that this is not her past, safe for a small voice from deep within repeating I never had a sister.


    Gradually, Emelie realized the memory could not be her own. It was most certainly Jacob''s. She fell out of the trance state she was in and took two wide, hurried steps forward to move away from him.


    Am I going crazy!?, she asked herself. Am I psychic? No, of course not. But what just happened? She glanced over her shoulder at Jacob. The look on his face must have mirrored hers. He looked at her as though she had suddenly grown two heads.


    "Did that just happen?" she heard him say to her.


    "I think so," she said aloud.


    At the exact moment the words left her lips, it hit her with a panicked flood of confusion: Jacob hadn''t said anything. Well, he hadn''t said anything aloud. The look of shock that grew over his face told her he had asked the question, only, he had posed it silently to himself.


    Emelie quickly turned her back to him, focusing on descending the staircase that was now before her. She was determined not to turn around again, even though she could feel Jacob''s stare burning a hole into the back of her head. What the hell is happening!? The phrase continued to loop over and over in her mind.


    Once the group reached the bottom of the stairs, they were led a short distance down a narrow, concrete hallway to another steel door. William opened the door wide and held it open for the group to enter. It was a long, low lit room with plain white walls and signs hung up in various places. The signs looked instructional in nature; however, it was impossible to make out their content in the darkness. Along each wall, curtains hung from the ceiling creating emergency- room-like sections with lights illuminating the small makeshift examination spaces within. William walked up to the small figure dressed in a puffy coat and pants with what appeared to be a helmet on, silhouetted before the first of the curtained-off rooms along the left wall. He produced a tablet from his jacket and tapped it against something in the figures'' hands, creating a flash of green light. The person nodded and gestured at him to pass through the curtain behind her. As he vanished behind the curtain, one of the tan jacketed recruiters walked up to the dark figure, tapped his tablet, and was directed to the adjacent examination area. Once the third recruiter had repeated the act, Emelie speculated that each of them must be providing information about the recruits they had found.


    "Welcome to the Rydal James Genetic Research Facility," said a slightly muffled female voice to the group.


    "When I call your name, please come up and state your date and place of birth. I will then assign you to one of the examination stations for an infection scan and physical. Please understand that this is a precautionary measure to ensure the health and safety of all residents within the facility." She spoke slowly and carefully, reminding Emelie of a grade school teacher.


    As they stood in the darkened entrance of the room, Emelie felt a sudden swell of loneliness rise in her. A memory of entering an emergency room, a bandaged hand wrapped around a badly burned hand.


    She is a child, and her mother is standing next to her. An attendant guides them to a curtained off area. Her mother lifts her onto the bed, situated in the middle of the cramped space. She crouches down to meet her eye level and strokes her hair gently, reassuring her that everything will be okay. She is inclined to believe her as she realized that the burn beneath the bandage had not hurt since her father had hurriedly wrapped it after she had touched the cast iron wood stove in their living room. The nurse asked her mother a few questions then proceeded to unwrap the bandage. Once the bandage was removed, the two women stared at the tiny, unscathed hand now lying in the nurse''s open palm. She frowned and looked up at Emelie''s mother, standing motionless. Just then, a tall man with a stethoscope around his neck parted the curtain with one hand looking down at the open folder in his hand. "Jacob Comtois?" he asked and raised his eyes towards the brunette woman with soft features and green eyes standing next to her. I do not know this woman, Emelie realized.


    "Jacob Comtois?" a voice asked again. This time it was distinctly female and muffled by a helmet. Emelie snapped out of the memory, realizing that once again, she was witnessing part of Jacob''s past. It was as though she had, for a moment, possessed Jacob''s mind. Or perhaps, it was him possessing hers.


    Emelie felt a movement from behind her, followed by Jacob passing her on the right. He looked back at her with squinted, analytical eyes. Emelie watched him as he turned forward again and walked up to the suited woman.


    "Birth date and location?" She asked.


    "July 24th, 2026. Urrugne, France," Jacob offered.


    The attendant indicated silently for Jacob to enter the third curtained area from the entrance on the right wall. Jacob nodded and looked back once more at Emelie, which caused her to turn her gaze to the floor. He then disappeared behind the curtain of his designated room.


    Emelie felt a small sense of relief when she looked up again to see that he had vanished. Had the distress from the experiences of the past year finally broken her? She determined she must have been having a psychological meltdown as she reflected on what had happened since she had passed through the facility doors, replaying it again, step by step in her mind.


    People''s names continued to be called around her as she recalled the details, tuning it all out. The more she examined the situation however, the further from understanding she felt. If it was all in her head, why did Jacob seem to react to the experiences? Was this a dream? Is none of this real? At this point, no explanation was off the table.


    "Emelie Mercier?" The attendant''s voice pulled Emelie back to the present. She stepped up to the woman wearing a biohazard suit. Through the helmet, Emelie noticed the woman''s youthfulness. She was fair-skinned with jet black hair and dark eyes. Her skin was full and plump like a child''s. This was something of a trend among the survivors, Emelie considered. None of them looked to be any older than their mid-twenties. Everyone looked amazingly healthy, considering the emotional trauma they had all experienced. Something in their eyes, however, all bared the same bitten confusion.


    "Birth date and location?"


    "October 20th, 2011. Montreal, Canada,." The woman nodded once and gestured for her to go into the examination room in the far left corner behind them. Emelie heeded her instruction and made her way to the back of the room. Inside was a gurney covered in light blue sheets, a chair next to it, and a little desk containing standard medical tools. Next to the desk was a screen of sorts on a metal pole with wheels. Wires extended from the base of the apparatus and were neatly wrapped around a hook at the top of the pole. The screen was black yet illuminated by a backlight.


    Emelie sat on the bed and waited for whatever would happen next. Alone with her thoughts, she realized that she was beginning to feel connected to the world again. A few days ago, she walked around aimlessly in a dead city or spent most of her days sleeping in empty hotel rooms. She cared not about what day it was, what she looked like, what the weather was like, what food she ate, nothing. Now her curiosity rose once more.


    A man parted the curtains and walked in. He also wore a biohazard suit. He said a quick hello, introduced himself as Thato, and explained that he was previously a paramedic in Johannesburg. He would be performing her health review today.


    "Emelie?" he asked. She nodded.


    "You''re 32?" again, she nodded.


    He proceeded to take her temperature, feel the glands in her neck, and check her vitals. "Have you had any headaches, vomiting or nausea, diarrhea, fever, or general feelings of malaise in the last 14 days?"


    "No, nothing."


    He explained that he would now take a blood sample as well as a spinal fluid sample. Emelie visibly cringed at the mention of a spinal tap. "Can I ask what it''s for?" she asked, cautiously.


    "The blood test is to check your overall health and to see if any antibodies to the virus are present in your blood. The lumbar puncture is to check if the virus is lying dormant in your spinal fluid." Emelie hesitated then nodded.


    He first withdrew a blood sample and tapped the screen that hung on the pole next to him, then placed the sample somewhere behind the screen. Robotic like sounds came from the back of the device, followed by lines of information now populating the screen.


    "You''re healthy, albeit a little dehydrated. No worries, though. Once we have finished here, we''ll get you some food and water." The man¡¯s demeanour made Emelie feel at ease.


    "Antibody count is the best I''ve seen all day!" His delivery seemed a little forced, but Emelie appreciated the genuine attempt to lighten the dense discomfort of the whole situation they collectively were in. He then grabbed the bundle of wires hanging for the hook above the screen and laid them on the bed next to her. He tapped a few things on the screen then moved to the other side of the gurney to Emelie''s backside.


    "This is going to be uncomfortable for a minute or so," he said as he touched the small of her back firmly with the tips of his fingers. He moved back to her front, grabbed the cords from next to her, and instructed her to lift her shirt and lay down on her stomach.


    Thato pulled down on the waist of her pants and began feeling her lower spine with his fingertips again. He moved to the small desk and took an alcohol swipe from a small package. "Apologies, this will be cold," he warned as he wiped the area he had last pressed. He took two of the cords from the bundle and returned to the desk, opened the third drawer, and removed a sterilized packet. He unwrapped it to reveal a large, thick needlepoint with a screw top at the base. As Thato screwed the needle to one of the cords, Emelie saw that the second cord had a node with an adhesive patch around it, much like that of an EKG machine.


    "Now, you will feel discomfort for about a minute," he said as he stuck the patch onto her back. "We have a limited supply of pain medicine here and cannot spare them on smaller procedures. The patch will help some with numbing the area, but it isn''t foolproof. Now, take a nice deep breath in and exhale slowly." Emelie complied and as she exhaled, felt the sharp pain of the needle insertion into her skin. The discomfort increased significantly as the needle reached and penetrated the bone. The intensity brought on nearly instantaneous perspiration. She instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. Suddenly, the pain broke, and she heard Thato shuffle the cords around behind her. "That''s it. You''re all done, "he said. Emelie stayed still until Thato told her she could sit up again. She found it odd that he didn''t bandage what would have been a fairly large insertion wound. "Is it okay for me to lower my shirt over the puncture hole?"


    "Oh, there is no hole," he answered as he removed and discarded the needlepoint and wrapped the cords up, hanging them back on their hook. Emelie slowly sat up and touched the area where the needle had entered. There was indeed no wound. It seemed implausible, but she couldn''t consider it much longer as further questioning began.


    "Have you, at any point, suffered major injury or illness in your life?"


    "No."


    "Any surgeries or fractures?" Emelie shook her head.


    "Have you ever been pregnant?"


    "No."


    "When was your last physical?" "Oh gosh, I can''t remember actually. I think I was a teenager."


    With each answer she provided, Thato entered it into the touch screen. A chime came from the console.


    "Looks like you''re virus-free," Thato said cheerily.


    "Thato, I hadn''t seen another living person in 5 weeks before 13 hours ago," she paused briefly, considering what she had just vocalized for the first time. "How many of us are left?"


    Thato''s expression tensed up for a brief moment. It dawned on her once more that he, too, had the vitality and supple appearance of a man in his early twenties. "Just over four thousand," he said with an air of reluctance to admit his words'' reality.


    Emelie sat quietly in contemplation as Thato tapped around on the monitor screen. Of the global population of ten billion, pre-virus, there may only be four thousand of them left.

 Chapter 2

    ¡°Upon leaving the examination area, please drop your belongings and clothes in the adjacent room,¡± William, who now stood at the entrance, projected. ¡°They will be sterilized in antibacterial steam and returned to you in a day or so.¡± Jacob walked through the door across the hall. More curtained-off areas at the far end of this room were much smaller than those in the previous room.


    ¡°Please enter the room second from the right and change into these,¡± a voice said behind him. Jacob winced nervously before turning to find a tall man in a protective suit holding out a stack of folded clothes for him to take. ¡°My apologies. I didn¡¯t mean to startle you,¡± said the man.


    ¡°No worries,¡± Jacob returned with a weak smile, taking the clothing from him and proceeding to the changing area. The events of the morning and several days of travelling left him feeling uneasy. He replayed what transpired between Emelie and him. It seemed that somehow, he had pulled her into his mind- as though they shared the space for a moment, like they were two people in a singular body, reliving his memories as one. Through the confusion and bewilderment, Jacob couldn¡¯t help but feel comfort in the sensation. Something was stabilizing in the intensity of the connection.


    As he disrobed and tossed his clothing to the corner of the small space, Jacob heard his father¡¯s voice telling him to fold his clothing neatly as he ¡°had not been raised in a barn.¡± His attention stalled on the pile on the floor. After several moments of repeating his father¡¯s words in his mind, he finally gathered himself, picked each article up, and carefully folded it. He placed the clothes into his backpack before dressing himself in the scrubs provided. Jacob felt himself gradually disassociating again, returning to the auto-pilot mode he fell into the day he left the flat he had grown up in. His body continued pulling him through the days, keeping him fed and stopping for rest whenever needed. He slowly moved away from home without any direction or destination to guide him. He moved South. Heading for the coast made sense. Travel was arduous, with many roadways blocked off by abandoned cars, particularly those close to the cities. He soon reached a deserted Marseilles. Dogs roamed the streets for food as the port continued to smoke after a fire burned nearly the entire waterfront. It was clear that rioting broke out in the panic. The anxious energy still lingered in the air. Jacob soon moved on from the port city, carrying on down the coast until he met Jules in Nice. Somehow, despite the great distance he travelled, he felt as though he never truly left home. It was after all, the first time he¡¯d ever been away from Urrugne alone.


    When his older sister left for college in London, they would visit her together every other weekend. His father regularly took members of the family on business trips. Jacob couldn¡¯t remember a single trip he had ever taken without one or more of his children or Jacob¡¯s mother. His father often said it made no sense to go to work if he couldn¡¯t be with his family at the end of the day. Jacob realized he never experienced true loneliness in his life.


    The memory of his last moments with his youngest sister suddenly struck him. Although he felt close to his entire family, Annabelle was at the centre of his world. He was seven years older than her, and she was the fourth very unexpected baby in the family. Jacob remembered how shocked his mother was for weeks after discovering she was pregnant again at 44 years old. He was elated,  assuming an active role as the unofficial guardian of whom his family called ¡°the little miracle¡± and insisted his mother teach him how to care for her needs so that he could help. Jacob spent hours playing with her, teaching her new things, and included her in as many of his social interactions outside of the home as he could. To him, she was an extension of himself. He fought back the lump in his throat and hurried to clothe himself in the cold, damp air of the bunker.


    Once dressed, Jacob exited the closet and approached the group huddled near the room entrance. Still lost in thought, he vaguely made out what William was saying as he instructed them to follow him.They walked down the concrete hall a short distance before reaching a large mess hall.


    Five people stood along the far wall before a food serving area. The woman standing in the middle of the group waved at them to approach. Jacob noticed Emelie standing with some of the people already facing those, beckoning them.


    She stood parallel to him, but he noticed she kept a safe distance. Although he understood why, it didn¡¯t ease the slight stinging heat he felt raising to his cheeks. Resisting the urge to walk over to her, Jacob moved to the opposite side of the crowd as one of the women standing before the group of new arrivals began speaking.


    ¡°Welcome all,¡± said the woman. She was tall, with a strong stature and squared jawline. The tailored navy blue suit she wore fit perfectly and was adorned with a yellow scarf around her neck, which to Jacob, made her looked like a flight attendant. She spoke with a strong West African accent, articulating each word slowly and clearly.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you have all made it here safely; however, I wish we were meeting under less dire circumstances. Thank you all for agreeing to help us save humanity from extinction.¡± Jacob saw Emelie glancing over at him a few times from the corner of his eye. He turned to look at her, but she quickly looked forward.


    ¡°I am Dr. Hadiza Adeyemi,¡± continued the woman. ¡°I¡¯m sure you all have many questions. Today, I hope to give you answers. First and foremost, I¡¯d like to explain the purpose of this Facility. For the last fifty-five years, my team and I have been researching a rare genetic mutation.¡± Jacob didn¡¯t know much about genetic mutations, but he knew one thing: there was no way she had been researching it for fifty-five years. Even if she looked fantastic for her age, she could not possibly be in her sixties or seventies, as she was suggesting. Jacob noticed a few others in the crowd who seemed to catch this discrepancy, including Emelie, who had glanced at him once more, likely to see his reaction to the statement.


    Dr. Adeyemi continued, ¡°This mutation is so rare; those of us who began to study it would most likely have never come upon its existence if it weren¡¯t for the fact that we had the mutation ourselves, as do all of you. This is why you are all still here. This is why you never had so much as a fever while everyone around you perished.¡± She paused for a moment. That same expression of anguish flashed across her face as it had all the survivors Jacob encountered over the last few days. She composed herself immediately and resumed.


    ¡°We call the mutation Longaevitate, the Latin word for longevity. The Longaevitate genetic mutation brings about several traits in those with it, notably a prolonged life span, immunity to all chronic and infectious illnesses, rapid healing from nearly all injuries, and a stunted physical aging process. We have found that in every case we have studied, the physical body will stop the aging process at the individual¡¯s physical peak, which, for most, is between the ages of twenty and thirty. Hence, like many of you, I do not look my age of eighty-one.¡± Jacob watched Dr. Adeyemi as though she were disconnected from his current space and time. He could not process her words as fact despite the mounting evidence. It all seemed utterly impossible.


    He scanned the faces in the crowd, noticing that every shocked and confused look seemed to be realizing that the doctor¡¯s words were correct. Some were even nodding in agreement! Were these people also claiming to be geriatrics in the bodies of twenty-five-year-olds?


    ¡°I know for those of you who are still young, this sounds unreasonable, but I can assure you that you will all grow old in this same fashion. We are all blessed with this gift, which will ensure that humanity lives on.¡± She stopped as though she anticipated applause from this statement. The audience did not oblige. She continued, ¡°We plan to save all those who have survived the plague. Cooperation from all of you will be necessary to achieve this.¡± A sense of disembodiment overcame Jacob as the woman¡¯s words became evermore plausible.


    Dr. Adeyemi paused momentarily, scanning the crowd of anxious faces. ¡°Well, I know this is quite a lot for you all to process. I will leave it at that for now. We can answer any of your questions during your entry interviews over the next week.¡± She quickly cleared her throat before continuing, ¡°I¡¯d like to welcome you all to tour the Facility. Women will follow Abigail¡±, she indicated to a woman standing at the back of the crowd, raising her hand. ¡°Men can all follow Mateo.¡± Again, she pointed to the far end of the room at a man with a raised hand. ¡°Dinner will be served to you once you all have had a chance to settle in. I want to thank you all again for your cooperation. You are all the future.¡± Dr. Adeyemi quickly exited the mess from a set of doors in the back.


    The crowd stood in place for a second, seemingly waiting for further direction. ¡°Okay, ladies, follow me,¡± said Abigail in the loudest voice she could muster. ¡°Men, this way!¡± hollered Mateo. Jacob saw Emelie hurry away to where Abigail was gathering the women. He quickly caught up to her and took her hand, ¡°Please come find me when you can.¡±


    He felt her resistance initially as she attempted to pull her hand away, looking startled as she twisted back to look at him, then, softening after a few moments of him grasping her hand.


    She desired to console him; he could sense it. ¡°I will,¡± she reassured him. He felt a warm sense of relief and gratitude wash over him. He knew that, somehow, she knew this was the first time he felt hopeful in many months. Jacob smiled widely and gently squeezed her hand before letting it go to follow the other men.


    ¡°This bunker was purchased in 1948, right after the war, and was one of the first military bunkers converted into a mass housing fallout shelter,¡± Jacob heard Mateo say as he approached. ¡°Come, let¡¯s start with the barracks.¡± The group followed him down a hall as Jacob took one last look back at Emelie. A strange revelation struck him: despite the mounting sense that reality was slipping away from him, there was something in Emelie that felt familiar.


    ******


    It was cold in the small makeshift doctor¡¯s office. The bunker had two constants: the air smelt of damp concrete regardless of the room you were in, and it was cold. The cold cut through clothing, shoes, blankets, everything. Amir reflected on the last three days in the bunker as he sat on a gurney awaiting the medical personnel conducting the entry interview. He had been picked up in Lima on Saturday and brought eight thousand miles and ten thousand feet underground to the last stronghold of humanity. He had survived due to a mutation in his genetics that made him immune to the illness that led to humans topping the endangered species list. It seemed surreal. However, that was not why Amir ruminated over these facts. He did this hoping to elicit a reaction within himself to these extraordinary revelations but couldn¡¯t seem to muster anything. Was it possibly because Amir had always known what made him different? In his fifty-four years, there were many opportunities to exercise the extent of his capabilities. No. This wasn¡¯t why the last few days¡¯ events elicited more guilt than fear. He couldn¡¯t shake the restless voice urging him to be rational and think objectively in light of the circumstances. What if this was a futile effort to save a doomed species that the planet was determined to rid itself of after thousands of years of havoc inflicted by it? Things were balancing themselves out. It was the natural way.


    Amir looked down at his palms for a moment, then closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, pulling himself back to the present. He tended to lose himself in thought and found it challenging to connect with others once he disconnected. After two failed marriages ended due to his inability to connect, Amir couldn¡¯t deny this was a pattern of his.


    A knock on the door signalled the arrival of the interviewer. ¡°Come in,¡± Amir heard himself say as he attempted to regain his footing in the current moment.


    A woman entered wearing the grey scrubs provided to all residents when they arrived to substitute their clothing while their belongings were being sterilized. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Malory,¡± she said as she extended a hand. She was a tall, long-limbed brunette with a slim, long face and pointed nose. Amir took her hand and nodded. ¡®Amir,¡± he replied. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Malory sat down in a chair at the desk against the left wall and placed a tablet she had been holding before her. The room was so small that she blocked the entrance while seated.


    ¡°So the purpose of this interview is to walk you through some of the information we gathered from the tests conducted when you first arrived. I will ask you questions to better understand your abilities and skill sets for future work in the bunker. We will begin with the question portion as this is, first and foremost, an interview.¡±


    Amir nodded. Once his mother discovered his and Fadil¡¯s unique abilities, she cautioned him to keep the knowledge hidden, as it could be dangerous if anyone ever knew. Lines of questioning came with a sense of dread.


    ¡°So you were born in Valpara¨ªso on September 9th, 1989?¡± Amir nodded once more.


    ¡°And you lived in Chiles your whole life?¡±


    ¡°No, My father was Egyptian, so my family lived in Cairo for five years after I was born. We then moved to Boston when he got a teaching position at M.I.T. I spent most of my youth there.¡±


    ¡°Any siblings?¡±


    ¡°Two older sisters and a twin brother.¡±


    ¡°Fraternal or identical?¡±


    ¡°Identical.¡± Malory¡¯s eyes widened as she kept her gaze aimed at the tablet screen. She quickly composed herself, but Amir noted the reaction. He suspects she realized he and his brother Fadil would have identical D.N.A. If this was indeed her assumption, she was correct.


    ¡°What¡¯s your brother¡¯s name?¡± Malory¡¯s attempt to maintain a neutral tone was evident. Amir suspected this discovery meant more than she wanted to let on.


    ¡°Fadil.¡± The revelation was not as grand as she may think at the moment, Amir reflected. No one would ever have the opportunity to test or examine the twin Longeavitates.


    ¡°Do you know where your brother is now?¡± Hopefulness clung to her question despite her best efforts.


    ¡°He has been missing for ten years, so your guess would be as good as mine.¡± Amir swallowed the pain slowly rising in his throat. He had always been able to sense his brother, no matter the distance between them. That was until two weeks after they had last spoken. Fadil had called from an unknown number and said he had found others like them. He suggested that Amir join him in Sacramento to be with ¡°their kind.¡± When Amir refused and began to plead with his brother to come home, the line disconnected. Two weeks later, Amir suddenly felt Fadil¡¯s presence vanish. He couldn¡¯t explain it, but he somehow knew Fadil was dead. Amir hadn¡¯t sensed his brother in a decade despite his many efforts to locate him.


    Malory momentarily reflected on Amir¡¯s words and then typed something onto the tablet. Amir sensed her disappointment. She moved on. ¡°Had you ever noticed anything different about you before? Any experiences that would have led you to believe you had some unique abilities or talents?¡±


    Amir instinctively wanted to say no. However, the gig was up in this case. She already knew about his abilities. ¡°Yes, I did know. My brother and I - ¡°Amir paused at the thought of revealing his secret and Fadil¡¯s. He pushed through the reflex of denial once more. ¡°We discovered it as children when Fadil fell 30 feet from a tree and not only survived but was unscathed. He was initially wounded but healed right before my eyes.¡±


    Malory nodded, typing away. ¡°And how did you know you also possessed the healing ability?¡±


    ¡°I was eight years old. If my brother jumped out of a tree and was uninjured, I would try it, too. The follies of childhood led me to discover my ability.¡± Amir began to notice something shift in him as he answered the questions. Although apprehension still dominated his mind, there was a sense of release. It felt liberating in some way to speak without fear of judgment.


    ¡°Was there anything else you noticed you could do besides the healing?¡±


    ¡°Fadil and I could communicate with each other without words.¡±


    ¡°Telepathically?¡± The word made Amir cringe, but he nodded regardless. Although it was the correct term for the action, it seemed to cheapen it with supernatural connotations. Amir had always wanted to believe it had some basis in science, although it was difficult to determine how it could fit into the constraints of scientific explanation.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Amir did know of another ability, but he refused to share that one. It was the part of himself that worried him most, a part that led to him actively detaching himself from those around him for the sake of protecting them. He shook his head. Malory nodded and pushed on.


    ¡°What was your profession?¡±


    ¡°I was an aerospace engineer before¡­¡± he trailed off. Connecting the current reality with a past that seemed decades behind him was hard. A sympathetic look came over Malory¡¯s face. She knew this feeling. All of those left knew it all too well.


    ¡°This skillset may benefit some of the work we are conducting here at Rydal James.¡± Amir nodded, although he found this to be a curious statement. What ¡°work¡± could they possibly be doing here?


    ¡°Married?¡± Mallory said, abruptly changing the line of questioning.


    ¡°Twice divorced.¡±


    ¡°Did you have any children from these marriages?¡±


    ¡°I had two stepsons with my last wife, Jolene.¡±


    ¡°Any biological children at all?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Mallory placed the tablet on the desk before her and turned to face Amir. ¡°I¡¯m now going to go through the test results from your physical and explain a few more details about the mutation.¡± Amir noticed her expression shifted; it was now somehow more neutral in an almost uncanny way. He wondered if it was part of some special training to maintain this degree of neutrality in these interviews.


    ¡°I believe you have heard quite a bit about the Longeavitate mutation in the last few days. You may have also heard people using the term ¡®Avis.¡¯¡± Amir had heard it and inquired about it with his fellow bunkmates. They had mentioned it was a nickname the founding members of the Facility had given themselves before knowing much about the mutation. Amir nodded once at Mallory, and she continued.


    ¡°The full term is Rara Avis or Rare Bird, and it was the name given to those with the mutation that first came at the Facility¡¯s inception. The name stuck around even after there was an official name for the mutation and has evolved to serve a new purpose. Rather than being a label for any person with the mutation, it now described one evolved strain. Once genetic testing began, a division of the original six founders began seeking out other Longeavitates. The recruits were offered a place to stay if they wished in exchange for partaking in the testing. Slowly, the facility membership expanded. The researchers noticed that the genome mutation seemed to occur quite quickly. While most genetic evolution gradually happens over hundreds of thousands of years, some even taking millions of years, ours seemed to have evolved only over the last twenty thousand years. Since evolution happened so quickly, a new mutation strain had already emerged. The second one was discovered about fifteen years after the Facility began their research. A man was recruited that exhibited far more evolved versions of the abilities granted by the mutation.¡±


    ¡°The most evident trait difference between those that had been researched previously and this man was that his ability to heal was far more sophisticated. On average, the healing rate of a Longeavitate was 1 hour to a few hours, depending on the severity of the injury. It may take up to 24 hours for all traces of injury to disappear, such as scar marks.¡± Amir began to put together that he was of the other group, as it took minutes to heal completely from all forms of injury. He had tested the limits many times with Fadil in their youth.  Mallory resumed her history lesson.


    ¡°There were a few more differences documented in relation to the sensory field, but I will leave that portion of your education to Mateo, as he understands those differences far better than I do. And so, the two mutation strains became known as the Avis, which represents the vast majority of Longeavitates, and the Palilas. ¡°The rarest of rare birds.¡± Amir recognized the name Palilas as an extremely rare bird species native to only one of the Hawaiian islands.


    ¡°How rare are the two strains?¡± Amir asked.


    ¡°The odds of being an Avis are 1 in 2.5 million. Palilas are one in 129 million. We¡¯ve actually only had 3 in the Facility over a 50-year span and entire team of people dedicated to scoping them out. There was only 1 left here until the Apocalypse exposed most likely all Palilas living today. There are 78 now at the Facility. 78 of 4000 current residents, and you happen to be one of them.¡± One of two percent of the remainder of the species, Amir thought.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you may have noticed that some of the residents are quite old despite no one looking it. You yourself are in your 50¡¯s and look no older than a man in his mid 20¡¯s. Others in your life may have already begun to notice.¡± She was right. Most of his friends and family often commented on how youthful he looked, however, he was still young enough that they seem to pass it off as having incredibly good genes. Incredible genes indeed, Amir thought to himself.


    ¡°Without succumbing to specific types of injury, starvation, or drowning, our kind could essentially live indefinitely at peak form.¡±


    ¡°What types of injury?¡± Amir was already familiar with one type of injury they could not heal from - the complete severing of a body part. Fadil¡¯s 4 toed left foot could attest to that.


    ¡°Fatal injuries for Avis included anything that could kill them before they can heal, such as severe damage to vital organs or arteries. For example several years ago, one of the facility residents was hit by a tractor-trailer. They were dead within 5 mins of the impact. Palilas, however, are far more resilient. Basically, if the injury doesn¡¯t kill them instantly, they will recover from it completely within 2 mins or so. Starvation is very much a vulnerability for all Longeavitates. Our bodies do run at maximum efficiency expelling only the unusable aspects of our nutrition, however, we could not survive  more than two months without food.¡± Amir nodded.


    ¡°How is this gene passed down?¡± Amir asked.


    ¡°The science is quite complicated and beyond my full understanding, but it is essentially passed down by the mothers who possess more rudimentary forms of the mutation in their genetic code. No maternal relative would have the fully mutated gene themselves, as it¡¯s occurrence is simply too rare. Safe for in the case of identical twins.¡± Mallory gave Amir a coy smirk.


    ¡°What would happen if a  female Longeavitate gave birth? Would the child have a higher chance of having the Longeavitate mutation as well?¡±


    ¡°Ah. With all the gifts this unique genetic makeup grants us, it takes away a most basic human ability. Female Longeavitates are completely infertile. Although they have fully functional ovaries producing eggs, every female we have tested in 50 years has never produced a viable egg. There is not a single recorded case of a fertile female Avis or Palila. We don¡¯t even bother putting women who come to the Facility through the process of testing fertility anymore. About half of male Longeavitates, however, are fertile, although they have extremely low sperm counts, making conception nearly impossible. ¡°Actually,¡± she swiped around on the tablet for a moment, ¡°you yourself are fertile.¡± This brought no comfort to Amir as he was never able to father children and was certainly not ever going to be able to now.


    ¡°So we are the last of humankind and are unable to reproduce,¡± Amir thought out loud. Mallory frowned and looked to the floor momentarily. Amir noticed her cheeks redden slightly. She continued to look down for a moment longer, then composed herself and sat up once more. She would not make direct eye contact with him, but it was clear by her still glassy eyes that she had been fighting back tears. Amir noted the twinge if guilt in his chest. His first wife Sam often pointed out how cold and insensitive his words could be. He never intended to hurt people but didn¡¯t seem to know how something should be said to soften the delivery. It was only now, as he reconsidered his framing, that Amir noticed flickers of sensation within him reminiscent of what he experienced with Fadil. A tightness in his chest came and went. He felt the hot flush of embarrassment in his cheeks for a fleeting second. It was enough to surmise that Malory was connecting with him, and he could piece together an understanding he could not previously manage without this insight. It made perfect sense now that Malory struggled with her infertility and that pointing out the inability for the survivors to ¡°rebuild¡± in a sense, could have come off as putting the blame on the women.


    Just as Amir began to apologize, Mallory changed the subject.


    ¡°So that covers a high-level explanation of the physical components of the mutation. I believe the next portion of the introduction will be your first sensory training session with Mateo.¡± She stood up and grabbed the tablet off of the desk and proceeded to exit the room without another word.


    -----


    Dr. Hadiza Adeyemi stared at the concrete wall before her. Even after eleven months in the bunker, she could not ease the tightness that set in her stomach when she was alone, having to face these walls.


    When the virus hit Australia the Facility scientists gained a sample and began decoding it. What they found was a highly contagious, rapidly evolving superbug that seemed to have every element needed to wipe out a species in a short time. It infected its host, laid virtually undetected in the basal spinal fluid for a week or two, then would launch a full assault on the body with a mortality rate of 100%. The virus could hibernate on any surface indefinitely and only become active when introduced to a viable host. Traces of it can even lie dormant in the spine of an Avis, undetected by the immune system as it conservatively leeches the body¡¯s resources evolving within its host. It could be killed by sterilization; however, it was so difficult to detect that finding it before it spread was a near-impossible task. Some twenty Avis were rejected or expelled from the bunker when discovered to be carriers of the virus, which would evolve enough one day to kill even the Avis. The Facility soon went into complete lockdown to protect from further contamination. Dr. Adeyemi felt those walls closing in around her again.


    A knock rapped at the door, followed by a woman entering with a folder. Without a word, she placed it on the desk before Dr. Adeyemi. She looked up at the woman¡¯s stern face. Katherina was never one to smile, but today, it wasn¡¯t her standard severeness etched across her face. Without lifting her eyes from the folder, Kathy nodded forward, silently urging Hadiza to open it. The doctor obliged, and as she read, she felt a sickness brewing in the pit of her stomach.


    ¡°How certain are we?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Completely,¡± replied the other. ¡°We will need to action protocols 10 and 34.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t this raise suspicion among the residents?¡±


    ¡°We will need to move quickly. Surely, we will find one within the newfound recruits.¡±

 Chapter 3

    ¡°We¡¯re going to do it one more time okay, love? I¡¯m going to count down from three.¡± Claire was still winded from the last four times the woman in the white lab coat, seated behind a large screen atop a grey metal box had asked her to hold herself underwater for as long as she could. A thousand wires came out of the back of the metal box and snaked all the way to her in the large, transparent vat of water, where they were attached to circular stickers all over her body. They had been placed on her by the woman at the beginning of the day and attached to a different metal box in the laboratory each time they started a new test. Claire was growing tired of the whole experience.


    The day started with her being asked to run then stop then run again over and over. Next, She was asked to hang upside down until she felt dizzy and fell asleep, which she didn¡¯t mind doing since it made her feel like a bat. She did that three times before the woman stopped because it gave Claire such a bad headache. Now she was on her fifth round of holding her breath underwater in the water tank in the middle of the science lab. She did not like this test one bit. Each time she held her breath, it got harder. Swimming was never something she enjoyed doing and she didn¡¯t even want to pretend to be a goldfish because goldfish were dumb and never had anything interesting to say. Her father used to bring one home for her after long business trips, which she would quickly release into the pond as they were terribly dull companions.


    ¡°...two, one!¡± Claire heard the woman exclaim. She obediently took a deep breath and pulled herself under the water and over to the clear platform that was submerged several inches below the surface. Grabbing the edge of the platform she swung her body underneath it and placed the top of her head against the glass. Then, she waited. Her stomach growled once in a long, low rumble. She had not been allowed to eat yet today and the woman in the white coat told her she could not do so until all of the tests were completed. Claire tried to ignore the hunger pains and focus on the distorted figure of the lady in white standing behind the computer just outside of the tank. She realized at that moment that the woman had never told her her name.


    Claire began to feel pressure on her chest indicating she was close to having to resurface.  She wanted to push herself a little further this time, thinking that maybe if she could stay down longer than the other times, she may pass the test and this could all be over. Although she did not really know how to ¡°pass these tests¡±, or really what any of them were for other than to see how healthy she was. Claire was able to count to 20 before having no choice but to resurface. This time, as she emerged from the water, she pulled the goggles she was wearing away from her eyes, making a popping sound as the suction released from her skin. She pulled them off her head and swam a few feet to the edge of the tank, towards the woman in white.


    ¡°You did great Claire. Come on out now and dry off. We only have one more test and then we are done for the day.¡± Claire resisted the urge to sigh out loud. She remembered the words of her father when reminding her to always respect her elders. ¡°You can learn a great many things from those that are older, as they have already learned much more than you have. However, no one will want to teach you anything if you do not show respect.¡± Claire wanted to know all things in life and didn¡¯t want to hurt her chances of being able to learn everything she possibly could.


    As she came down the ladder outside of the tank, the woman provided her with a towel. ¡°There are some clean clothes for you to wear once you are dry. Please go behind the curtain to change and we will move on to the next test.¡± Claire noticed that the woman seemed a bit like a robot like the ones from the old black and white movies her mother used to watch. The woman spoke very little and never smiled. If it weren¡¯t for the heart Claire could clearly hear beating in her chest and the occasional sense of worry that could be felt emitting from her, she could have very well passed for an android.


    Claire walked to the corner of the room with a curtain hanging from the ceiling, creating a small area of privacy. She drew the curtain behind her and quickly changed. At this point, she didn¡¯t care what the last test was, she just wanted to eat. Once she had emerged from the changing area, she saw the woman seated next to a table with instruments on it. She walked over to her and saw that the tools were a small knife, some cotton balls, and what looked like water in a glass jar.  There was a chair placed before the woman in which she indicated to Claire to sit.


    ¡°This next test will be a little uncomfortable. I will need to make some cuts in your skin on your arms, legs, stomach, and face.¡± She must have noticed the look of terror on Claire¡¯s face as she continued reassuringly, ¡°the cuts won¡¯t hurt too much at all and they should all heal within the next couple of hours.¡± Claire did not feel reassured in the slightest. She wanted her mom. She never had to visit the doctor or dentist without her and her mother would always sing to her before any of the visits. Her mother could not sing to her this time. She would never hear her sing again outside of her memories.


    The woman pushed on and began rolling up Claire¡¯s sleeve. ¡° I¡¯m so sorry Claire. I just realized that I haven¡¯t introduced myself to you yet.¡± Claire sensed a shift in the woman. She seemed warmer suddenly and Claire felt her own body relax a little with this new feeling. ¡° My name is Hala. I¡¯m from a country called Jordan. Do you know this place?¡± Claire nodded. She had memorized the names and locations of each country in the world and intended to someday visit all of them.


    ¡°Are you from Amman or another town?¡± Claire had also memorized every capital of each country. Hala smiled for the first time. ¡°No. I am from a nearby city called Zarqa,¡± Hala replied as she dampened a cotton ball with the clear liquid. Isopropyl Alcohol, 91%, Claire read.. Hala wiped the cotton swab on an area of Claire¡¯s arm, just above her elbow. The coolness of the alcohol and realization that a cut was soon to follow renewed Claire¡¯s sense of fear. Hala must have sensed it too as she quickly tried to distract her once more.


    ¡° I read that you grew up in Vientiane.¡± Claire nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been to Laos.¡± Despite Hala¡¯s efforts, Claire was fixated on the scalpel that she just picked up from the table. Hala looked into Claire¡¯s eyes and Claire sensed that she acknowledged the distractions were not working.


    ¡°What about pets Claire? Do you have any pets?¡± Claire softened a little at the thought of her dog, Tundra. She had named him herself. His fur was as white as snow which made him look like a tundra. Claire had only ever seen snow in photos of the various ¡°wintery deserts¡± of the world. Someday, she would see each one.


    ¡°My dog''s name is Tundra because he is as white as snow.¡±


    ¡°Oh really? And what does Tundra like to do?¡± Claire turned her eyes to the ceiling in contemplation. She barely noticed the scalpel slicing into her arm. She looked down and saw Hala cover a tiny cut that was now leaking blood slowly down her arm, with a piece of white cloth. That really wasn¡¯t so bad, Claire thought to herself. She was no longer afraid of the other incisions to come.


    ¡°He likes to fetch and play hide and seek with me!¡± Claire bellowed with pride. Tundra was her best friend in the entire world. ¡°He is now on an adventure to find one of his friends. I wanted to go with him but I have school¡­¡± Claire trailed off for a moment. ¡°Had school,¡¯ She corrected herself.


    ¡°Well,  I had a cat once,¡± Hala jumped in.


    ¡°Really? What was his name?¡± Claire asked as Hala made another small cut on her cheek. Hala smiled and proceeded to tell her all about her cat, Aziza.


    One hour and twenty-three minutes later, while Claire ranked the best breeds of elephants starting with the Borneo, Hala examined the incision locations and took a picture of each, just as she had done every ten minutes since the cuts were made.


    She looked up at Claire, who was in the midst of explaining why the African Forest Elephant was overrated and smiled.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Claire said, stopping mid-rant.


    ¡°Take a look,¡± Hala pointed to the area where the cut on her arm had been. There was no indication at all that anything had ever been there.


    ¡°Does this mean we can eat now?¡± Claire said, looking back at Hala with an air of hopefulness in her voice.


    ¡­..


    Amir woke up in a panic sweat. It took him several minutes to calm himself down this time. He looked around the dark room. Once his eyes adjusted and he saw the eighty or so bunks around him, he realized he was in the sleeping quarters of the Facility. He sat up in the bed, reassuring himself this fact a few more times until he was certain of it. This was the second nightmare tonight. They had started to become frequent again. Every one of them was the same; he is in the dark, feeling around to find his way. When he finally finds a light switch, he flips it on to reveal that he is standing in his parent¡¯s living room with the corpses of his family seated on the sofa. His mother, father and sister¡¯s bodies seated upright, heads straight forward, decaying slowly. He calls out to them. His father¡¯s head turns towards him and his mouth falls open, releasing a piercing scream. His mother remains motionless, but he hears her voice ¡°Fadil is waiting.¡±  This is the point where he always wakes up.


    ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    Having been consumed by the nightmare, Amir didn¡¯t notice that Jacob was sitting up in a bunk a few feet away, looking at him.


    ¡°Fadil is waiting. What does it mean?¡± Jacob repeated.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. ¡°Amir said, throwing the blankets off and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He rubbed an eye with one hand.


    ¡°Were you sleeping when you heard it this time?¡± Amir knew that Jacob heard his mother¡¯s voice in his mind, as clearly as he had. This was not the first time fragments of his nightmares also plagued Jacob¡¯s sleep. Amir wondered if others in the room could also ¡°hear¡± him. If they could, none of them had mentioned it as of yet. Jacob seemed to be the only other Palila or Avis which Amir could clearly determine his emotional state. Everyone else¡¯s were difficult to decipher, as though they were all jumbled together in a pile. He couldn''t tell which feelings were associated with whom. He had however, felt another strong and clear signal from someone in the Facility but had yet to figure out who it was.


    Jacob nodded ¡° - And I was having such a wonderful dream, too.¡± he said playfully through a yawn.


    Amir smirked at him, suddenly grateful he wasn¡¯t alone. Even though it felt somewhat invasive at times that they had this strange connection allowing them to occasionally peek into each other''s awarenesses, it reminded him of another person he was once linked with in this manner.


    ¡°Fadil is¡­was my brother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Jacob¡¯s pain and empathy rushed over Amir. They shared a mutual desire to help the other, but knew they were both so broken that they could not determine how they would go about doing so. Everyone in the bunker shared this trait. They were fragmented versions of the people they had once been. Amir didn¡¯t need to have a unique mutation to be certain of this. Whether he was walking the halls, eating in the mess, or taking a shower in the locker rooms, the broken hearts and torn spirits of the bunker¡¯s 4302 residents weighed down on him. It was a grim place to be.


    ¡°Hey, I heard that you¡¯re starting your one on ones with Mateo tomorrow. Have you met him yet?¡± Jacob asked.


    ¡°No, not yet.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll like him. He knows so much about our kind. He lived in a commune of people like us before coming here.¡± Amir could feel Jacob¡¯s optimism as though it was his own. ¡°He also has this understudy sitting in on the sessions and let me tell yeah she - well let¡¯s just say she may be just what you need to lift your spirits,¡± Jacob said suggestively with a sly grin.


    Amir chuckled as the bunkmate above him swung his head jarringly over the edge of the bed.


    ¡°It is three in the morning! For the love of God, please shut up!¡±


    The next morning, while eating breakfast in the mess hall, Amir felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket simultaneously with Jacob¡¯s and a few others that were placed on the dining table. It was one item that they were all encouraged to bring with them when they came to the Facility as it was the main tool of communication from the staff to the residence via the local network within the bunker. ¡°The agenda is up,¡± Jacob said before popping a piece of toast into his mouth and proceeding to scroll through the contents of the document. He sighed and swallowed before lamenting ¡° I don¡¯t think I will ever be used to waking up before 8 am.¡± Amir smirked, grateful for the normality of his complaint. For a moment, it felt as though it was just a normal day where having to wake up early was the worst thing a teenager could experience in his life.


    ¡°They treat us like we are in the military, or worse, prison!¡± scoffed a man sitting across from Amir.


    They had all been informed soon after their arrival that in order to maintain a productive and peaceful habitat for all, they would be provided strict weekly schedules every Sunday to comply with. Each of the residents had been assigned to groups of approximately 80 people. Your division would eat, shower, sleep, and rotate through testing or training within the same time slots. Anyone who refused to comply would be ejected from the bunker. So far, no one had refused.


    The man seated beside the first interjected, ¡°There are 4000 people in a bunker made to house 3000. The routines are a must and should really be the least of your worries. How can this place sustain all of us for a long term period if we are already pushing it past its limits? That is without taking into consideration that maintaining this place will eventually require materials and possible exterior work. How will that be possible?¡± he had a valid point, Amir thought. Starving or suffocating in this place would be the most likely outcome of long term residency. He noticed his hair standing on end as a sickly sense of fear rose from the pit of his stomach. Knowing that he did not fear the promise of death himself, he acknowledged that Jacob was projecting his own state of crisis onto him.


    Amir put a hand on Jacob¡¯s shoulder and squeezed it gently. ¡°Don¡¯t worry bud. If all hell breaks loose in here, we can always leave. We are palilas. We have the superior mutation.¡± His tone was slightly sarcastic and he felt a pain of guilt when he noticed that Jacob had picked up on it. He felt a fluttering of anxiety in his chest that he knew immediately had come from Jacob. Amir quickly changed his approach to comfort the frightened boy.


    He tilted his head towards Jacob¡¯s eyeline, drawing him into direct eye contact. ¡°Hey, if things go south down here, we will leave together. The virus truly can¡¯t hurt us.¡± Amir felt Jacob¡¯s anxiety begin to dissipate. ¡°We leave together, yeah?¡± Amir said, solidifying his commitment to his young friend. Jacob gave an unconvincing grin which dropped from his face almost immediately. Amir, still cupping Jacob¡¯s shoulder in his hand gave it a stronger squeeze this time and pushed once more, ¡°I¡¯ll have your back and you can have mine, sound good?¡± Jacob¡¯s shoulders dropped as he finally broke into a sincere smile. Through the fear and uncertainty, Amir could sense the warmth of reassured comfort building within him. Jacob nodded in agreement to the packed Amir proposed and resumed eating his breakfast.


    Amir pulled his phone out from his pocket, selected the English version of the document and read through the outline of the week¡¯s activities.


    Factions FF and FM Calendar for the week of September 17th, 2043:


    Shower times will be Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday this week.


    FF timeslot: 8 am to 8:15 am


    FM timeslot: 8:20 am to 8:35 am


    ** Makes sure to come prepared with your showering necessities before entering the shower area. Shower time will not be extended, no exceptions.


    Meal times and section:


    Breakfast: 8:45am to 8:15 am


    Lunch: 1:15 pm to 1:45 pm


    Dinner: 5:30pm to 6:00pm


    All meals will be had in section B of the Mess Hall.


    Sensory testing sessions will continue starting today at  9 am and will be conducted by our head of Sensory Field studies, Dr. Mateo Duran, and his staff. Please see the list here for your appointment time.


    Agendas for each week will be provided every Sunday at breakfast.


    Amir clicked the link that took him the list of each member from factions FF,  shorthand for group F-Female, and FM, or F-Male.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Rahal, Amir Vicente- 2pm


    Amir finished up his meal, said a quick goodbye to those seated at the table and headed off to the library he knew would be deserted at this hour to be alone with his thoughts.


    ¡°Welcome, you must be Amir. I¡¯m Paulina,¡± said a petite, black haired woman with wise eyes greeting him at the entrance of wing 120 East where testing and training were conducted. Amir had recently completed his endurance testing behind one of the many doors that lined the hall.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± said Paulina, turning on her heel and proceeding down the hall. Her gentle tone seemed to ease Amir, even though he had no recollection of being tense prior to this. He walked a few paces behind her, reading the plaques on the doors as they passed. They reached a door labeled Testing Center One. They entered and Paulina instructed Amir to have a seat.


    ¡°Mateo should be here at any moment,¡± Paulina said.


    The words had only just left her mouth when a man opened the door and with a quick nod to each of them, sat down in the chair facing Amir.


    Extending a hand out to Amir he said ¡°Hello, you must be-¡± he trailed off momentarily to look at the tablet in his hand, ¡°- Amir Rahal.¡± Amir nodded as he took his hand. ¡°Mateo Duran.¡± He continued. Amir felt a chill when he looked into the man¡¯s face. He was a tall man with dark features and nearly black eyes. They seemed like voids yet somehow Amir knew they were deconstructing his every move, micro expression, tone of voice, everything. The sharp and skilled eyes exhibited a depth of knowledge and experience strongly contrasted by the youthfulness of his face. Amir noticed that this was true of all residents in the bunker, the eyes always seemed to reveal the age of each, and Mateo¡¯s eye¡¯s told of a man that knew the inner workings of all aspects of life. He must be quite old, Amir decided.


    ¡°468 years old to be exact,¡± Mateo replied aloud, startling Amir. Unlike Fadil or Jacob, the man¡¯s ability to read his thoughts were completely undetectable.


    ¡°I apologize. Normally, I would respect the boundaries of one¡¯s mind, however, you were quite lost in decoding the points of intrigue in my features and we have a good amount of ground to cover over the next hour so we must jump right in.¡± Amir nodded, regaining his composure. ¡°You¡¯re an engineer I see. This explains your instincts. I¡¯m intrigued to work with a mind such as this.¡± Amir pushed aside the sense of uneasiness Mateo triggered within him, determined to gain as much insight as he could about how it was possible that telepathic communication could occur.


    Mateo read through something on his tablet as Paulina typed furiously on hers.


    ¡°Ah yes. You are the identical twin my colleagues have been buzzing about.¡± Mateo maintained composure, indulging in not a single depiction of intrigue when mentioning this piece of information, unlike his colleagues, which included Paulina, who widened her eyes ever so slightly while keeping them aimed downward at the tablet on her lap.


    Mateo noticed Amir picking up on the micro-expression. ¡°Please forgive my colleagues. This is a particularly exciting discovery for us all.¡± Amir couldn¡¯t tell if Mateo had heard his thoughts again or was simply incredibly perceptive.


    ¡°You grew up in a unique situation that no other recorded Longeavitate has ever had the privilege to experience. Do you remember when you and your brother began to communicate with each other telepathically?¡± Amir was becoming more comfortable talking about the abilities he had so long hid from everyone other than Fadil but had not yet reached a point of wanting to discuss his brother, or their relationship, with anyone. ¡°I can¡¯t recall a time when we were not able to.¡± Amir reluctantly replied.


    Mateo nodded. ¡°In due time, you will be able to recall your entire life in the greatest of detail but we shall cross that bridge when you are ready.¡±


    ¡°The goal of this session will be to provide you with context into what the sensory field is followed by an exercise in accessing it with another. The Sensory Field is the source of all connectivity between living beings. It allows a subconscious flow of information to be passed from one to another. Both mind and body are connected to it at all times.¡± Paulina stopped typing for a moment, stared at Amir, analyzing his face, then returned to typing.


    ¡°There are theories as to how the Field actually works, some more plausible than others however, most agree that it is a plain of energy transmitters, known as wave lengths, connected to each of us. Unfortunately, there is still a high degree of doubt concerning its existence among the Longeavitate community, stunting the research into the why and how of it.¡±


    ¡° So your division doesn¡¯t conduct research into this?¡± Amir interjected.


    ¡°No,¡± replied Mateo. ¡°I myself am no physicist and my division has not received the credibility needed to sway the heads of the Facility into agreeing that investing in one is a worthy cause.¡± Amir began to feel that the explanation he was looking for would not surface in this conversation. Discouraged, he fought the urge to tune out completely, knowing that Mateo or his hawk-eyed assistant would immediately pick up on it.


    ¡°You see, the field is quite difficult to access for adult Avis. They can be trained, as I was by a group of Longeavitates I had met many years ago, but most have a similar reaction to the notion of some ¡®energy field¡¯ that can give them telepathic abilities. I was only able to start this division when I demonstrated the power the Field can grant to one of the board heads who happened to be a Palila, like yourself. You see, the mutation has granted us the ability to connect and navigate the field through the mental and physical efficiencies it provides. It is not just our bodies that maintain an optimal state but our minds as well. They are hyper vigilant and sensitive to all matter surrounding us. Since Palilas possess a more sophisticated evolution of the mutation, their minds are essentially the most efficient processors in existence. This makes access to the Field and the abilities it grants far more attainable for a Palila than an Avis. Avis children are also able to access with greater ease, as children naturally operate on a more sensory level of communication.¡±


    Amir sat quietly, processing the revelations provided by Mateo. On a conceptual level, this was beginning to sound plausible to him however, he could not shake the cloud of uncertainty that the lack of scientific research created.


    Almost as though Mateo had read his thoughts again he said, ¡° Nothing would please me more than having more scientific research conducted on the workings of the Field, but at this time, the Heads only seem to care that it can provide certain abilities useful to the survival of our kind and want each resident to be trained to use it. Maybe someone with your skillset could someday help in heading such research but for now, let me explain what can be done through it.¡± - Amir noted the slightest tone of frustration and defensiveness from Mateo when discussing the limitations placed on his research department and decided it was best to not press on the matter further at this time. He nodded to Mateo, conceding for the time being. Mateo pressed on.


    ¡°Now, you are familiar with the telepathic ability you possess made possible by Sensory Field connectivity. This is known as field communication. The Field, however, can facilitate so much more. Over the course of your training, we will explore at great length what possibilities it provides, but today, I would like to focus on one key practice. Through a method of meditation, we can access a world created by both of our minds. This is known as ¡®entering the Field¡¯. It is not easy to learn but can provide those within it a plain to which they have full reign. With this, you can share memories and experiences with another in a controlled and stable manner. The key to it is emotional control. Initial navigation of the Field in order to reach such a state with another requires finding the wavelengths connecting you with another simultaneously and maintaining complete focus and control over those specific connections.We all have natural connections to one another but can also create simulated connections that form as each party focuses on the pre-existing waves. Focusing meditative energy into the waves creates "copies" so to speak of them which reinforce the connection between the participants. The more naturally occurring wavelengths between two people, the easier this can be done as the mind will not need to simulate additional waves to complete the connection required to ¡°enter¡± with another. You may have noticed that you can already communicate or share some experiences with certain people requiring little to no effort. They must have many wavelengths in common with you already and are most likely Palilas themselves. Explaining wavelength wielding using plain English is far less effective than guiding within the Field itself. It is best that we begin the access training straight away.¡±


    Amir sat cross-legged on the ground of the furniture-less room they had moved to with a large one-way mirror on the left-hand wall, which he suspected Paulina stood behind, ready to pummel the screen of her tablet with every detail she witnessed. He contemplated the need for such a room in a war bunker, settling on the conclusion that this was an addition made by the current owners in order to facilitate observational analysis. It seemed a tad over the top from his perspective.


    Mateo entered the room and sat down before him. He sat so close that his knees pressed up against Amir¡¯s, sending a sensation of discomfort through him. He wasn¡¯t keen on people he just met entering his personal space. ¡°Trust me when I tell you that this is the least invasive position to be in with a counterpart when training entry,¡± Mateo proclaimed, once again seemingly reading Amir¡¯s mind. For a man that claims to respect the boundaries of people¡¯s private internal dialogue, he crosses that line quite often, Amir thought. Mateo put one hand up, ¡°Now, we will each need to place a hand on the other¡¯s chest. Just as sitting on the floor keeps us grounded in the present, so does the hand on the other maintain the connection between one another.¡±  It seemed as though the true training at hand was to teach Amir how to tolerate human contact with a stranger, he thought.


    Amir placed his hand on the man¡¯s chest. ¡°I¡¯m going to guide you into a state of meditation now. Do you have experience with meditation?¡±


    ¡°Some,¡± Amir recalled his time in college with a girlfriend who tried to turn him onto alternative healing through spiritual release. He attended a single meditation session at a Buddist temple to please her and found the experience quite relaxing. His relaxed state was soon shattered, however, when he walked into the washroom to find his girlfriend assisting another patron of the temple with a more commonly known form of ¡°spiritual release¡±.


    Mateo nodded in acknowledgment. ¡°Please close your eyes now and take a nice deep breath.¡±


    Amir complied with each of Mateo¡¯s instructions leading him to a calm and quiet mind.


    ¡°Now, I want you to imagine a green field, Warm sunshine above, and a tree line in the distance.¡± Amir pictured the scene in his mind. Suddenly, he felt a tightness forming in his throat. The sensation of suffocation increased as he felt the stifling heat, like heavy humidity wrap around him tightly. It was becoming impossible to breathe as his throat, mouth, and nose felt as though they had been stuffed with cotton. Amir panicked fearful for his life. He had forgotten he was in a meditative state, sitting in a room several hundred feet below the ground. He frantically grasped at his throat. As though someone had turned on a light switch, it was over. He was seated on the ground, in a small room with a two-way mirror to his left, looking straight into the black hole eyes of Mateo once more. He panted in panic although all sensations of suffocation had dispersed.


    ¡°What the hell just happened?!¡± Amir exclaimed.


    ¡°We call it cottonmouth. It¡¯s a common reaction to the first entry, particularly for Palilas. Your connectivity to the Field is so great that accessing it in this manner opens you up to what equates to a tidal wave of energy. It will get easier the more practice you have. It could also improve if we find someone with more wavelengths in common, although this is merely a theory, as we have come across very few Palilas over the years.¡± With his heart still racing, Amir found it nearly impossible to follow Mateo¡¯s long-winded explanation. He rubbed his eyes and face with both hands, still struggling to process the simulated near-death experience he had just felt. It certainly did not feel like a simulation at the time.


    ¡°I know that this sensation of suffocation felt quite real to you but I assure you, you were never truly in danger.¡± Mateo delivered the line as though he had a thousand times before, with a calm and professional delivery that felt distant and cold. He stood up and extended his arm to Amir. Amir grabbed it and stood as well, feeling frustration rising in him at the thought of Mateo seemingly having full access to his thoughts.


    ¡°That¡¯s it for today. You are free to go.¡±


    Amir looked at the man as though he had just slapped him across the face. The clinical coldness of his tone paired with the incredible power surely held over Amir made him feel vulnerable and exposed. He proceeded to the door without another word to Mateo. Just as he grabbed the handle, anticipating the freedom of being able to leave the presence of that man would bring, Mateo spoke once more.


    ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m not reading your thoughts, Amir. You are practically screaming them through the Field.¡± Amir paused with his hand still grasping the door handle, continuing to face away from Mateo, refusing to make contact with those eyes once more.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I will teach you how to control this in due time. ¡±


    ¡­..


    Mateo looked up from the tablet at the young girl that sat before him in the small testing room. Her chart told him she was 10 years old but she seemed much younger to him as she was slight for her age. She sat there, shoulders hunched, black hair draped over them like a cloak, biting her nails and avoiding eye contact with him.


    ¡°Claire, could you tell me what you know about the Avis?¡± Claire dropped her fingers from her mouth and cupped both hands around her skinny knee caps. Without looking up she said in a near mumble, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    She was not going to warm up so easily to him. Mateo recalled that Avis children were quite skilled at entering and navigating the Sensory Field on their first try - more so than adults did - as they seemed to be more open to possibility. Some were even able to enter the field on their own, without any guidance. However, he would not be able to enter with her if she remained guarded. He changed his approach.


    ¡°How about we play a game,¡± Mateo suggested. Claire looked up and met his eye line. ¡°Which one?¡± she asked with a slight intrigue in her voice, somewhat muffled by the fingers that had found their way back into her mouth.


    Mateo smiled and said, ¡°To start, all we need to do is close our eyes.¡± Mateo proceeded to close his, hoping that Claire would follow suit if she saw him do it first. After a few moments, he opened one eye, just a little and found that her eyes were indeed closed.


    ¡°Now, let''s imagine we are in a green field, atop a hill. The sun is shining and the wind is warm. There is a forest in the distance all around us.¡± As Mateo began to lay out the scene, he leaned forward towards Claire, continuing to keep his eyes closed. The scene he was describing began to form around him. The grass was cool beneath his now bare feet. He saw the treeline of the forest circling around him. Everything was nearly exactly how he had described, safe for the weather. Large cold droplets of rain fell from a gray sky above him. The pressure of the rain slowly increased. He looked around in every direction, trying to spot a figure in the distance. Finally, he managed to see something through the thick veil of water. As he walked closer to it, the rain began to let up. He could make out the small dark-haired girl standing several feet from the tree line. Claire stood with her back to him facing something white before her. Mateo could hear her mumbling something to whatever it was. Once he was within a dozen feet of her, he noticed that a white dog sat facing her, wagging his tail. She was talking to it in a low voice, as though telling it a secret.


    The scene around them began to melt away and was replaced with the bedroom of a young girl. It was a tidy room with maps on the walls and 4 bookshelves filled with books. There were books everywhere in fact. They seemed to greatly outnumber the amount of stuffed animals and toys placed around the room. To his left, Mateo found a stack of them on a desk. He could not read the title of the one atop the stack, noting that the book was in Lao. His attention was pulled back to the young girl and her dog. Neither had acknowledged him which indicated to Mateo that Claire was able to project a memory using the Field but had not yet figured out how to fully interact with another person while submerged in it. This was a common theme with Avis who had some sensory experience but did not know how to unlock its full potential. Regardless, it was impressive that she was able to remain emotionally stable in the fluidity of the Field realm. Mateo noticed a shift in his emotional state. Due to his extensive understanding of the medium, he identified immediately that she had begun merging the memory with Mateo¡¯s sense of reality; a fairly advanced technique. If she was able to first project a memory then progress into a partial or complete merge with another Avis, it could not be a coincidence. She must have considerable practice. Mateo did not resist the merger, as he was well versed enough in sensory techniques to regain control of the situation if needed.


    Looking down at her dog - Tundra - she resumed her point about Samson, the neighbour cat, and Tundra¡¯s friend. ¡°I think she will get you into trouble someday. She is always wandering off and digging up professor Chanthavong¡¯s flower beds.¡± Tundra relayed his response back to Claire in the form of feelings and images. She felt warm and excited when seeing the flashes of Samson - acknowledging that Tundra felt comfortable with his cat friend and loved digging up the flowers in the garden alongside him. ¡°Okay but the professor won¡¯t care that you were having fun when he is wacking your bottom with a broom!¡± Tundra expressed disengagement to her in the form of images displaying him walking away to find out what mother was cooking in the kitchen. ¡°Oh well, go on then,¡± Claire told him while gesturing towards the door. He was never one to stick around for a lecture for any length of time.


    Mateo gently began to sever the sensory connections which bound him to Claire¡¯s emotional state and stream of consciousness. Like flipping a switch, the scene around him changed to what he coined the ¡°skeletal view¡± of the Sensory Field. He could now only see tones of blue and white which outlined the shape of Claire before him. Millions of white lights, like strings, shot out from her in every direction. Some connected directly to him. He looked for the trends connecting the two of them and watched as thousands of them disintegrated into nothingness. Some remained, as they should, which were those that represented the basic connections between all living things within the Field. Once the last of the merger trends had vanished, Mateo found himself in the green field again, next to the forest line. Claire still stood with her back to him, facing the trees. He could sense pain emitting from her and began to draw closer to her to see what had caused this shift. He took exactly 3 steps in her direction before a hail storm smashed down on them, so strong and overwhelming that they both fell out of the Field.


    Claire sat before him once more in the small test room with the same concrete gray surrounding them, as it did in every corner of the bunker. Tears were streaming down her small round face and fell into her upturned palms resting on her lap.


    ¡°Hey, there. Everything is okay. We have our feet on solid ground again¡± Mateo said with a warm smile, assuming that the entry into the Field with another Longiavitate was emotionally overwhelming for the young Avis. Claire¡¯s shoulders rose and fell gently with each choked inhale. Mateo considered that this was not about the experience. He explored her sadness somewhat, without diving too deep into her emotional emission, which would be noticeable to anyone, even those with little to no comprehension of the sensory realm. No. This is a familiar pain. Something evoked by a memory, Mateo thought.


    ¡°Claire, can you tell me what is making you sad right now?¡± Mateo crouched slightly, tilting his head to the side to catch her peripheral vision.


    Claire shifted in her seat and sighed heavily. ¡°She was making Khao Piak Sen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Mateo inquired.


    ¡°Mama. She was making wet noodles.¡±


    ¡°Ah I see.¡± Mateo understood now that she was referring back to the memory she had shared. The meal that had distracted Tundra from her scolding was wet noodles.


    ¡°Mama always made it for me when it rained.¡± Mateo¡¯s heart grew heavy for the girl. The poor child was completely alone in the world now. Just like the rest of them. She was too young to feel such loss, he thought. She dropped her head into her hands and began to sob. Mateo took a sweater off of a hanger on the back of the door and draped it around her shoulders. He wished that he had the ability to lift this grief from her and shoulder it himself. Unfortunately, with all the graces granted by the mutation they shared, it could provide no such solution.


    ¡­..


    Mateo sat at the small desk next to his bed in the claustrophobic quarters he shared with 10 of his colleagues. The space was designed for two, maybe three people to share; however, everyone had to squeeze in where they could to take in as many survivors as possible.


    He reviewed what he had just typed in the document opened on the screen before him:


    Subject 1267: Dao, Kalina-Claire, 10 years of age


    Classification: Rara Avis


    Session 1 Summary: Subject exhibits an intermediate level of skill wielding Sensory Field energy wavelengths. Preliminary entry successful. Subject appears to have connected to K-9 species via field communication. Due to the exhibition of relaxed control of entry and simplistic approach to connectivity with counterparts within the Sensory Field, the subject would be an ideal candidate for pairing with Palilas.


    Mateo smiled a half-smile before turning the screen off. Even with all of his years of training, this young child possessed talents with field energy he himself had never mastered. So much could be learned from this truly extraordinary young Avis.


    He stood up from the desk, turned out the light and got into bed.

 Chapter 4

    The library was certainly the coldest place in the bunker, Emelie thought, shivering as looked around the cluttered space filled with old, torn, dusty books. The selection was as old as the bunker itself but she didn¡¯t mind even if her second reading of The Catcher in the Rye wasn¡¯t anymore enjoyable than it had been the first time when she had read it for her tenth grade English class. Maybe it was Holden Caulfield¡¯s fortune to live as though he had nothing to lose; a privilege not afforded to those with nowhere to fall.


    She hugged herself, rubbing both arms in a vain attempt to contain her body heat. Two other residents sat quietly in the seating area which had a dozen or so chairs scattered around. Emelie had explored as much of the facility as she was allowed to in the last month since she had arrived and had determined that the bunker had not been designed with comfort in mind. For a place that was intended to house 3000 people for more than a decade, it did not seem to take into consideration the toll a place like this would have on the mental health of its residents.


    The door to the library screeched loudly as it opened, causing the three present to turn and look in its direction. Emelie quickly glanced back as the man entered, barely acknowledging him before resuming her read. Suddenly, Emelie began to notice something was different. Her body was warming up. The air itself felt statically charged. Her senses heightened as her heart rate seemed to slow, causing calm and focused alertness within her. She felt the man approaching from behind. As he drew nearer, Emelie felt the hair on her arms and neck stand on end. The sensation was not fear or tension as such reactions usually arose from. No. This was exhilaration. She sat frozen in place as the man walked passed her, slowing down for a fraction of a second once directly behind her, sending a shockwave of electricity through her every nerve. Emelie looked down at her now shaking hands. She had felt similar energy from people in the bunker, most notably from Jacob, but this was somehow far more acute. With Jacob, there was a certain level of anxiety associated with his aura. It created a physiological reluctance to near him, mainly due to the ¡°visions'' '' associated with such interactions. Emelie guiltily avoided Jacob after their first few conversations due to this seemingly insurmountable hurdle. This, however, felt empowering.


    The man made his way to the far corner of the library and shuffled through some books on a shelf, his back to the seating area. Emelie didn¡¯t realize she had been staring at him until he glanced over his shoulder at her. Snapping her head back down, she cringed at the lack of subtlety in the action. Try as she might to keep her eyes on the page before her, the subconscious magnetism drew her gaze sideways to what seemed to be the source of these fantastic sensations. He took a book from the shelf and found a seat several feet from Emelie. The air between them thickened. The man evidently suffered from a mutual draw to her, as she caught him several times grabbing quick glances in her direction. Every single fibre of her being was fully in the present; it was simultaneously peaceful and ecstatic.


    A woman seated before her shifted in her seat, knocking over a tall stack of books next to her. The sudden crash of 20 books falling made Emelie jump and yelp in fear. The man seemed to mirror the reaction before standing up to help the woman. As he did, he took the opportunity for a quick glance at Emelie, who remained fixated at the toppled books as though they were a burning building that just exploded. Emelie did not make eye contact. Instead, she felt an overwhelming urge to leave the library immediately. As the man crouched down to pick up the books, she made a quick getaway, nearly sprinting for the door. She flung it open and quickly closed it behind her, panting much harder than the quick dash warranted. As she struggled to catch her breath, she realized the strong sense of familiarity associated with the man.


    Emelie collected herself before instinctively burying the gravity of what had just transpired. It was a survival mechanism she had acquired as a child and fine-tuned over many years. Strong emotional reactions, whether good or bad, leave one vulnerable and this did not seem to be a fitting time for vulnerability. She dusted off the last remnants of the experience and headed to the mess for dinner, just as the P.A. system chimed the alert signalling the second dining round of the evening.


    Several days later, Emelie encountered the man once more, while standing in line for weekly supplies. As she inched forward toward the supply closet door where a disinterested looking woman handed out toothpaste, bars of soap, and replaced empty 5 gallon water jugs with full ones, she felt the density of the air increase. Her mind calmed, easing tension in her shoulders. The sounds around her became clearer and easier to comprehend. Her vision sharpened and skin tingled with recognition of everything it made contact with. There was no need to scan the room, seeking out the source of these changes. Somehow, she knew that he was the third person lined up behind her. She also inexplicably knew that he had also experienced the mental and physiological changes she had in that moment. Their cognition seemed to overlap with one another''s. This was different from the sense of embodiment she had experienced with Jacob. There was no sense of being drawn into his state of mind, leading to a loss of awareness of her own identity. This felt like a shared conscious state; fully connected to the present moment through two vessels.


    Although the experience was pleasant, Emelie resented and resisted it shifting uncomfortably as though abrupt movement might shake the connection loose. The notion that he was feeling and experiencing the sensations simultaneously suddenly felt jarring and invasive. In an attempt to drown out any and all ties to this stranger, she repeated to herself a version of ¡°April Come She Will'''' that her grandfather used to play on the piano when she was a child. She recalled the memory in vivid detail; the slowed gentle pace of the keystrokes, his raspy, baritone voice softened, acclimating to the whispered spirit of the original. She sat next to him at the piano, watching his hands glide over the keyboard in the low light of dusk coming from the large picture window to the left of the instrument. He would change the lyrics to reflect the situations of the present-day each time he played it, delighting his granddaughter. Emelie listened attentively, snickering quietly every time he would replace the words with a funny anecdote. As ¡°grandpapa¡± neared the end of the song, he gradually intensified the pressure of each keystroke, until he was hammering out the last few cords, bellowing out the one consistent lyric alteration, signature to every performance ¡° - A glove once new has now grown mold!¡± Emelie smiled at the recollection.


    Unfortunately, the memory had only temporarily distracted her from her present situation. She acknowledged a sense of confusion emitting from the man. He seemed to not comprehend her reluctance to explore the phenomenon they were experiencing.  At that moment, Emelie decided she still had enough personal hygiene products and water to last her until the next restocking day and made her way to the far left exit of the mess, fighting the urge to look back at the man. Once through the exit doorway, Emelie found herself out of breath once more. It was as though she had been holding it from the moment she sensed him again. What if she was letting all of this ¡°Sensory Field connections¡± stuff alter her perception, she considered. Did that actually just happen? She hadn¡¯t turned back to confirm visually that he was even there.


    While most of the other residents she interacted with, particularly the women from her section, adjusting to the revelations surrounding who and what she was did not come easily to Emelie. She still half expected to wake up in a hospital after being in a coma for 6 months only to discover this had all been a fever dream. How can one so easily adapt to being some sort of super-human after having lived a seemingly ordinary life for 30 years, Emelie felt. Sure, some of the residents had known beforehand that something was different about them. Some had even been able to utilize their abilities. For Emelie however, accepting that it took the near-extinction of humankind to surface such significant traits just didn¡¯t add up. It had weakened her sense of trust in her own perceptiveness, only further reinforcing the state of detachment she felt from reality. She rolled through the motions each day without resistance, numb to most things. Food had no flavour. Conversing was tiresome. She considered that maybe she wasn¡¯t so much resistant to change as aloof to the whole thing.


    The encounters with this man were the first time she felt herself at the helm of her own consciousness since everything ended. Was any of it real? Maybe not but it was the closest thing to it Emelie could identify in these uncertain times.


    ¡°You can sit down if you¡¯d like. I don¡¯t mind.¡± Emelie jumped upon hearing the voice. She looked down to see a young girl, no more than 10 or 11 years she thought, seated on a metal bench before her. The child¡¯s eyes were fixated on the book on her lap. ¡°You don¡¯t have to stand,¡± - she continued. Emelie, still stunned by the fact that a person had been a mere foot or two from her without her realizing for several minutes, decided that maybe it was a good idea to sit for a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m Claire¡± - the young girl offered, extending her hand over to Emelie now seated next to her. She never lifted her eyes from the page before her. Emelie took the tiny hand into her own noticing the firmness of the grip it had as it shook hers. ¡°Emelie. That¡¯s a strong handshake you¡¯ve got there.¡±


    ¡°My father says confidence is established through a firm handshake,¡± Claire¡¯s voice was steady as she dropped the tone down an octave, possibly emulating the delivery of her father when he had passed on this wisdom to her, Emelie thought. ¡°Good advice,¡± - Emelie responded, smiling at the familiar personality seated next to her. A buzzing vibration reverberated through the bench. Claire plunged her left hand into her pocket, pulling from it her phone. ¡°Gotta go to class now. Nice meeting you!¡± she bellowed as she hopped down from the bench and strutted off down the hall. ¡°Have fun,¡± Emelie called out after her. Claire lifted one hand in the air, without turning around and gave a quick wave before disappearing around the corner. Emelie exhaled a chuckle and shook her head as she sat and watched the oldest 10 year old to ever live head to class. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡­..


    The facility had a few small recreational rooms; one was dedicated to physical activity, the others to various activities such as music, art, and other hobbies. It was late evening when Emelie entered the art and music room. She swung the door opened to find a few residents sitting at a table, playing cards. Immediately, she recognized the sensation she had already felt several times that week. Her breathing slowed, shoulders dropping once more as a rush of shivers washed over her body, scattering goosebumps across her skin. Just as she felt it within herself, she could sense that the same reaction had been felt by the stranger bonded to her perception.


    The magnetism of this connection beckoned her to the source, as it had previous times. This time, however, Emelie chose to indulge it. If this was going to be her life she thought, trapped underground with the same people in strictly set routines for God knows how long, she may as well explore what this new world had to offer.


    Emelie let her senses guide her to him. She walked to the right of the room, towards the wall that stopped just before connecting to the far right wall, creating a ¡°U¡± shaped room. On the other side of the wall was the area dedicated to music. Guitars, violins, cellos and various other instruments hung from the walls. The room even had a baby grand piano. Emelie took a moment to look around the room that seemed to house any and all instruments one could ever want. She had heard from some of the facility staff that the music room was well equipped due to the original founder, Rydal James¡¯s personal collection having stocked it. He was said to have been a prolific musician and upon leaving the facility 30 years ago to pursue a life of solitude in the wilderness, he had expressed his desire to donate his collection to the community of Longeavitates he hoped would someday convene there.


    A bookcase was placed horizontally from the left wall, creating a division in the space. Someone was seated on the other side of the bookcase. Only black curly hair was visible through the spaces between the items on the fifth shelf. Every ounce of her being knew it was him. A gentle melody came from behind the case, produced from what sounded like an acoustic guitar. As Emelie drew closer the music stopped suddenly. She froze in place, waiting for the stranger¡¯s next move. He sat motionless. Emelie could sense conflict within the other, as though he was considering various courses of action. The sensation then indicated assertive confidence familiar to Emelie as the feeling experienced when a conclusion had been reached.


    The stranger shifted in his seat before he resumed playing. The song he now played was one she knew quite well. A shiver ran down her spine as her heart began racing, dropping into her stomach. ¡°April Come She Will¡± filled the air and with each string pick, Emelie felt blood pulsing to her head, flushing her cheeks in crimson. A pressure formed in her throat rising up to the space behind her eyes. She suppressed the urge to cry. Her body pulled her forward, one careful step at a time, operating independently from her mind, reeling in an overwhelmed state. Could this be a coincidence? Seems frighteningly on the nose to happen by chance, Emelie thought to herself.


    ¡°Do you know this one?¡± the man said nearly causing her to leap from her own skin. As she crashed back down to Earth, she realized that she was now standing parallel to the bookcase, a mere two feet from him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to startle you,-¡± He said as he rose up from his seat, propping the guitar against the shelf before turning to face her. She felt a sense of regret emit from him which evolved sharply into a baffled state of mind upon making eye contact with one another. They both stood suspended in what felt like the aftermath of an explosion; the air suddenly still, void of sound. As reality trickled back into their consciousness, they identified within themselves an overwhelming sense of familiarity for the other. It was as though a dearly departed loved one had risen from the grave and now stood before them.


    Emilie studied his features; black hair, full beard, light brown flawless, youthful skin, dark brown, dough-like eyes. He stood a few inches taller than her with a stocky, solid build. By her assessment, he looked to be in his late twenties, though his eyes told of wisdom only far more years could bring. Her mind searched frantically for some memory of him as she sensed him working through a similar train of thought. Nothing of this man was known to her previous to a few days ago and yet, he was as familiar to her as her own family. A rush of pressure formed behind her eyes again. It took everything she had to not cry. Judging by the flush of red now forming around the man¡¯s eyes and the identical sensation of pressure she could feel in him, he was experiencing it too. He pressed his eyes shut, quickly, and firmly blinking to break eye contact as he extended a hand outward to her.


    ¡°Amir,¡± his voice cracked slightly as the word left his lips.


    Emelie looked down at his hand, almost uncertain of whether she wanted to take it at all. She pushed past the doubt, grasping it in hers. Against all rhyme or reason, she undoubtedly felt her hand in his as she could feel his in hers. It was as though they shared one consciousness as well as one body while occupying two spaces in the world.


    ¡°Emelie,¡± she replied, locking eyes once more. All comprehension of what any of this meant evaded her and yet, somehow, understanding the how and why seemed so irrelevant now. As she held Amir¡¯s hand in hers, the only thing that seemed to matter was the sense of wholeness she felt.


    Amir grinned warmly at her and gestured for her to take a seat on the small bench against the shelf. He sat back down, picking the guitar up and propping it upon his knee. Emelie sat down beside him. She hadn¡¯t felt this calm and secure in nearly a year, possibly her entire life. Exhaustion overcame her as she sat watching Amir¡¯s left-hand slide up and down the neck of the guitar, moving effortlessly through the chord changes. It was as though an enormous weight shifted off of her. Her eyes felt suddenly heavy; nearly impossible to keep open. Having always been a troubled sleeper, Emelie could not recall a time when she had ever dosed off outside of a bed after tossing a turning for hours and yet, she now found herself barely able to stay awake next to a stranger in a strange place.


    Amir leaned back against the shelves, slowing down the cadence of the song and closed his eyes. In her newfound sense of comfort, Emelie leaned back as well and gave in to the fatigue, drifting off to sleep.


    Emelie was awoken by someone shaking her shoulder. Through her grogginess, she could make out Amir standing over her, smiling as he spoke.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said playfully.


    Emelie, now somewhat unsettled as she realized what happened, instinctively apologize to him. ¡°No worries at all. You must have been quite tired,¡± he reassured her.


    ¡°I guess so,¡± she returned. As Emelie rubbed the sleep from her eyes, a sense of refreshed alertness overcame her. She felt fantastic and stood up meeting Amir¡¯s eye line.


    He was still smirking at her which led her to break into a smile.  ¡°Do you often fall asleep when meeting new people or was I just that captivating?¡± Amir poked, as she smoothed down the front of her shirt. She laughed and sensed a rush of endearment in Amir at the sound of it. He was charming through his obvious shyness, she thought.


    ¡°I normally have trouble sleeping so this is all quite odd for me,¡± she confessed. Why she was being so forward she could not tell, as she was normally guarded with strangers. Not just strangers, she considered, but with everyone.


    Emelie thought of Adrien; his outgoing, gentleness that often made her feel simultaneously adoring and resentful of him. The recollection led to a surge of guilt within her in light of what had just transpired. Here she was, having just met this man before her, capable of surmounting all of her hang-ups and trust issues that in 10 years of effort and commitment she had never been able to do with Adrian. Amir cocked his head slightly at her. She knew he could feel the conflict and guilt within her. ¡°Hey, really, it¡¯s no big deal,¡± he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. His touch sent a reverberation through her body as well as his. She noted that although he could sense her emotions, he could not detect the thoughts associated with them.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said looking into the black of his irises. She knew that he was aware that the guilt had not subsided, but he chose to let it go, to her gratefulness.


    ¡°Do we know each other from somewhere,¡± she asked knowing the answer yet looking for any opening to change the subject.


    ¡°It feels like it, doesn¡¯t it? Ever been to Boston?¡± Amir asked although Emelie could sense that he too seemed unconvinced that they had ever crossed paths, given the lack of curiosity within him when asking the question. He was certainly trying to figure out what was the source of their unprecedented level of connectivity, but she could tell he knew it would not be solved by asking such a question, even if they had had a chance encounter at some point.


    Emelie shook her head. ¡°You grew up in Boston?¡± Emelie asked the question although Amir¡¯s overtly Bostonian accent had already given it away. ¡°Yup,¡± he replied as he stored the guitar in a case on the floor. The conversation at hand felt as though it was a cover for what was happening under the surface. Within each of them, Emelie identified a similar course of action taking place: both were hyper analyzing the other, trying to decode the secret to what was happening between them in an invisible realm. Amir¡¯s fruitless attempt to busy himself by tending to his instrument was an obvious deflection to mask his intrigue. Emelie could tell that the intensity of the situation was overwhelming him and his instincts urged him to retreat. She knew this reaction all too well. Getting close to someone was more terrifying than anything else she could imagine. It was best to tread lightly with others if only to protect both parties from the devastation that would befall them when the relationship inevitably ended.


    In that moment, Emelie noticed Amir¡¯s internal demeanour change. He had sensed her relating to his dissociative methods. He stopped loading the guitar into the case, and, still crouching down over it, glided his finger tips across the strings. A plea came from within him, directed at Emelie who stood next to him, watching and feeling the change occur. Amir emitted remorse to her and a renewed sense of interest washed over both of them, overpowering their guarded reactions. Emelie fought off her reclusive instinct and submitted to the new sensation. She realized that an attempt at detachment was not going to be possible, even if they both wanted to.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of the country singer tradition where one pays tribute to a fellow musician by giving them their guitar?¡± Amir asked, eyes still focused on the instrument before him. Emelie, taken off guard by the sudden switch in topic, shook her head. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t,¡± she confessed.


    Amir pulled the lid of the case down over the guitar and fastened the buckles shut.


    ¡°The tradition started at a time when people didn¡¯t have multiple instruments. They had only one guitar to play. Some would play it to earn money, some played for pleasure. All of them used it as an escape¡­-¡± Amir trailed off for a moment as Emelie felt anxiety brewing within her chest, simulating the sensation within him. There was a certain vulnerability that came with sharing this anecdote. It was meaningful to him, she thought. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful really. To humble oneself before another with such gravity, don¡¯t you think?¡± Amir turned, facing her once more. She felt fear associated with the exposure of the moment ring out from their shared cores.


    The P.A system cracked loudly before announcing the order to return to quarters for the night, startling both of them. Once the initial heart-pounding had subsided, they stood there a moment longer, as conflicting emotions urged them to both stay there with the other and run for the hills. Emelie finally broke the stand-off. ¡°We should probably go before they banish us or something,¡± Emelie said coyly. Amir chuckled softly and gestured toward the exit with a nod and an extended hand.

 Chapter 5

    Jacob looked around the tiny room with the two-way mirror to his left, panting heavily. His eyes settled on the face of the man seated before him, also struggling to catch his breath. It took Jacob a second to remember who Mateo was after the ordeal they had just experienced. Mateo, having finally calmed himself enough to move on from the situation, stood up and extended a hand down to Jacob, encouraging him to stand as well. Still winded, Jacob grabbed the man¡¯s forearm and hoisted himself up.


    ¡°Come, let¡¯s discuss this in the other room,¡± Mateo instructed and walked to the door.  Jacob followed close behind.


    Upon exiting, Mateo turned to the door directly to the right of the one they had just passed through, entering the post-analysis room on the other side of the two-way mirror. A man sat at the table facing the mirror. ¡°2 minutes, 43 seconds,¡± said the man to Mateo as he took a seat next to him. ¡°28 seconds longer than last time,¡± Mateo said, turning to grin at Jacob now sitting to his right, knees turned towards his trainer. ¡°Progress,¡± Mateo added with a sincerity that Jacob felt was unwarranted. Nothing about his latest Field entry practice session felt progressive unless the measure of progress, in this case, was an increased lack of control over his emotional state. He knew that this session had scared Mateo. He might be able to mask it now, Jacob thought, but his raw reaction, moments after exiting the connection was one of pure fear. Mateo winced as Jacob recalled the events in his mind, indicating that Jacob¡¯s internal dialogue could be heard ringing out in the Field by anyone with significant connectivity training. Jacob forced himself to move on from his recollection.


    Mateo¡¯s assistant slid the tablet he was holding across the table into Mateo¡¯s hands without a word. The skilled Field trainer regained complete composure as he scrolled through the data displayed on the screen. His assistant stood and began checking Jacob¡¯s vitals. He noted his heartbeat returning to normal as he situated himself once more in the present.


    ¡°Vitals are normal,¡± said the man. Mateo nodded once in acknowledgment.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been talking to other residents,-¡± Jacob paused mid-sentence, searching for the best way to express himself, ¡°- and they do not seem to be experiencing the same issues when training as I do.¡±


    ¡°Well, of course not. They are not you. Each Longeavitate will have a somewhat different experience during preliminary Field training.¡± Mateo¡¯s delivery of the response was so ¡°matter of fact¡± that it sent a sudden bolt of frustration through Jacob¡¯s chest. He calmed himself before continuing, so as not to appear inflammatory. ¡°They aren¡¯t taking over in the way that I am,¡± he finally let out.


    Mateo, who had not looked over at the boy since they sat down, now shot a piercing stare directly into Jacob¡¯s eyes. He must have sensed how off-putting the look was to Jacob as he softened his expression before speaking.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Your ability is unlike anything I have ever encountered. This doesn¡¯t necessarily mean that they are troublesome, per se. I would consider them more of a challenge to harness. I am confident, however, that the challenge will reap an incredible reward, both for you, and our kind,¡± Mateo grinned and swung his knees around to face Jacob.


    The last words of the sentence rung out in Jacob¡¯s mind: our kind.


    ¡°People are afraid of me,¡± Jacob confessed, hanging his head.


    ¡°We are typically afraid of what we don¡¯t understand. The entire experience is terrifying for everyone. I wouldn¡¯t take it personally,¡± Mateo said in an attempt to reassure him.


    ¡°Some of the people I met when I first arrived now avoid me completely. They avoid eye contact and turn away when they see me approaching.¡± There was no need for hyper-vigilance to note the sadness in Jacob¡¯s tone. He thought of Emelie in particular, who rejected him entirely at this point. During dinner the previous day, she wasn¡¯t subtle in her avoidance of him, standing up from the table she had been sitting at as soon as he and Amir approached to sit down. He knew it was in reaction to him, as she avoided him like the plague ever since their second week at the Facility. He couldn¡¯t blame her, really. Their last conversation had led to such a traumatic experience, it left Jacob reeling for weeks afterward. Now, when all he wanted to do was apologize, he was shut out completely.


    ¡°The more we train, the better you will get at controlling it,¡± Mateo said confidently. Jacob was not so certain and wondered if it would be possible to control at all.


    Mateo looked him over, studying his face before breaking away. ¡° Tell me about the experiences with others,¡± he took the tablet into one hand before giving all of his attention back to Jacob. When Mateo gave you his undivided attention, it was overwhelming, Jacob thought. He was fully invested, mind spirit and body, as though you were the only one in the room. Jacob shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with this enormous pressure. Mateo did not let up, even though Jacob had a feeling he was well aware of the discomfort this caused. He would do this without fail during every post-analysis session. ¡°Are you taking over every time you have a conversation with someone or only during physical contact?


    ¡°Seems to happen at random. I¡¯m not sure how, but it always seems to happen when I think of my sister¡­¡± Jacob trailed off thinking of her.


    ¡°How many people has this happened with here?¡± Mateo spoke loudly and clearly, jarring Jacob from his train of thought...


    ¡°Nearly everyone I have encountered for more than a few minutes at a time. Possibly ten times now,¡± Jacob answered, leaving his troubled thoughts behind.


    ¡°Did this ever happen before the facility?¡±


    ¡° Not that I recall. I did sometimes notice that women seem to react to thoughts I had of them,¡± Jacob smirked coyly at Mateo.


    Mateo chuckled, ¡°And what suggested that?¡±


    ¡°Well, if I had an inappropriate thought about them, some would become disgusted or cold with me, as though they had seen what I was thinking. Sometimes, if I was lucky, they seemed to like it and would kind of throw themselves at me. Their attitude would change in an instant. I couldn¡¯t tell why then, but now I wonder,¡±


    Mateo laughed heartily, causing Jacob to soften and laugh as well. Even the ever-serious assistant broke into a snicker.


    Once Mateo had collected himself, he continued. ¡°So the reaction consistently happens when this thought pops into your mind while you are interacting with another person?¡±


    ¡°It seems to, yes. Actually, I hadn¡¯t realized this until now, but it has never happened with Amir.¡± Mateo raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. ¡°Oh? Are you referring to Amir Rahal?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He is my roommate and seems to not react to the memory. I¡¯ve even been able to talk to him a little about it.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Mateo commented while taking notes on the tablet.


    ¡°We also seem to be able to communicate telepathically.¡±  Mateo froze for a moment before looking up at Jacob intently. ¡°Wait, let''s talk about that for a moment,¡± Mateo said, dropping his composure, which Jacob had never seen him do before. He had a clear and distinct excitement in his voice when he said ¡° You can communicate through unspoken dialogue or with images?¡±


    Jacob thought about it for a moment. ¡°Both. Sometimes, I hear a word or several in my mind. Sometimes I see an image he wants me to see. I¡¯m not sure how but I knew from the first time that it was Amir. Once he had done it, I somehow knew how to respond. I can¡¯t really explain it.¡± Mateo sat, nodding, and typing away.


    ¡°How did it happen the first time?¡±


    ¡°I could hear him in my sleep. He was also sleeping. He was shouting the words, ¡®Fadil is waiting.¡¯ It woke me up and I could still hear him after I woke.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating. Truly fascinating,¡± Mateo mumbled. ¡°Jacob, this is quite an advanced technique. This paired with Amir¡¯s apparent resistance to your projections may be just the answer we are looking for!¡± Jacob was stunned by Mateo¡¯s demeanour. He was elated and speaking as though he and Jacob were solving a puzzle together. It felt warm and inviting to feel included in Mateo¡¯s excitement.


    ¡°Jacob, Amir is the key to you accessing the Field. He will be the one to help you enter, and once you are in, we can finally learn to control your ability.¡± Mateo proclaimed. Jacob smiled and nodded. He felt Mateo¡¯s hopefulness swell in his chest and adopted it as his own.


    ¡­..


    Amir looked over at Emelie¡¯s scrunched up face, tears streaming down her cheeks.


    ¡°What?!¡± he exclaimed non-verbally. ¡°Okay, it isn¡¯t that funny,¡± he added, fighting back his urge to laugh.  Emelie, unable to find any words in her hysterical state, squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, placing a fist in front of her mouth in a failed attempt to muffle her laughter. She let out a loud yelp that rang out through the quiet air of the library, causing the few people seated in the lounge area to look up momentarily before returning to their reading. That sound was simply too much for Amir, who could no longer contain himself. Through pursed lips, he broke into a burst of near breathless laughter. Again, the faces of the other residents turned sharply towards them. Amir put a hand up towards them and shook his head to indicate he would stop. Emelie, now chuckling silently, wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me that instead of asking her on a date directly, you learned enough Russian to ask her grandmother if you could take her out?¡± Emelie communicated to Amir telepathically, while trying to hold back another fit of giggles. Amir nodded sheepishly. ¡°It¡¯s kind of sweet, actually,¡± Emelie added, still fighting a smile. ¡°But I have to say, I understand why she dated your brother instead,¡± Emelie began to lose her composure again before finishing the sentence, causing Amir to let out an audible chuckle. ¡°Shh!¡± hissed one of the residents from the lounge area. ¡°Sorry,¡± Amir responded, causing Emelie to laugh loudly. ¡°I have to get out of here,¡± she said as the now frustrated faces of the others scowled at them.


    ¡°Good idea,¡± Amir responded, still giggling, as he collected the books before him and stood up. Both he and Emelie stored the books back onto a nearby shelf and exited the library in a hurry. The minute they were free of the oppressive environment, they laughed out loud and Amir quickly and as carefully as possible, closing the door behind him.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get us kicked out of there permanently,¡±¡¯ Amir said, playfully bumping his shoulder into her. ¡°Me?!¡± Emelie exclaimed, darting her eyes over to him. ¡°You¡¯re the one who insisted on sharing your dating blunder greatest hits in a library,¡± she tossed back with a lighthearted grimace. They continued down the hall and entered the mess.


    ¡°Did you get your work assignment yet?¡± Emelie asked as she sat down at a table near the doors they had just entered. Amir nodded and pulled a deck of cards from his back pocket before sitting across from her. Over the last few weeks, Amir had taught Emelie nearly every card game he knew. The connection they shared seemed to facilitate the transmission of knowledge between them. This paired with Emelie¡¯s keenness to learn, made learning even the most complex of games a 5 minute process. She had never been one to play cards or any games for that matter. In the bunker, however, expanding one¡¯s repertoire of pastimes was a matter of mental health. After only 2 months, the days were already becoming unbearably long, even with the strict schedules that dictated two-thirds of their day. They both had a sense of eagerness bubbling just below the surface to begin their work details as soon as possible and playing cards was one of the few things that kept that anxiety at bay until then. Since they were part of the last wave of recruits to arrive at the Facility, they were part of the minority that had not yet been assigned to permanent work yet. Sure, they would assist here and there when needed but there was no consistency.


    ¡° Lead physicist for some top-secret project,¡± Amir responded.


    ¡°Did they actually use the term ¡®top secret¡¯?¡± Emelie jeered in good nature.


    ¡°Well, I added a little zest to it since ¡®lead physicist¡¯ seemed lacking in some way. Thought I¡¯d give it some sex appeal, you know, for the ladies,¡± Amir said raising his eyebrows ironically. Emelie gave him a waggish grin.


    ¡°Zan said they would give me the details when I start on Monday,¡± Amir added. ¡°What did you get?¡± he asked as he dealt out the deck into two even piles.


    ¡°Hydro agriculture. Sounds fancy, I know but really it¡¯ll just be crop maintenance. I won¡¯t lie though. I am pretty excited to get my hands into the dirt again. Maybe too excited.¡± Amir felt a dropping sensation within Emelie¡¯s chest. ¡°I haven¡¯t gardened since before... everything,¡± she added non-verbally. The jarring switch in her emotional state indicated to Amir that an involuntary, post-traumatic episode had befallen his companion. He took the stack of cards before her and placed it into her hand, giving it a tight squeeze to pull her back to the present. In the short time since their first meeting, they had developed techniques to pull one another back from these bouts of dismay. Emelie looked up at him, smiled gratefully and proceeded to fan out her deck before her.


    ¡°I must admit, I¡¯m somewhat jealous of your placement. Being surrounded by plants all day long would be the closest thing to a hike in the woods that we will get,¡± Amir remarked. Emelie recalled Amir¡¯s stories of various hikes he had done all over the world. He reflected on these memories with such fondness that Emelie knew that he indeed must have sincere envy for her new assignment. A pain of guilt and empathy washed over her. Upon feeling this emotional projection, Emelie noticed Amir repelling it almost instantly. She quickly moved on from the state, focusing solely on the lacklustre hand before her.


    A vibration against her thigh indicated that a scheduled agenda item was about to begin. Without needing to remove the phone from her pocket, Emelie remembered that she had a sensory field training session that was about to start in 5 minutes.


    ¡°Shit,¡± She said as she placed her hand face down on the table and stood up. ¡°I have to get to sensory training.¡±  Amir nodded, ¡°Okay, raincheck then?¡± he replied. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Emelie gave Amir¡¯s shoulder a quick squeeze before hastily exiting the Mess.


    ¡­..


    Mateo sat perfectly still at the desk of his office, hands relaxed with palms turned upward on his lap. He could have been mistaken for a wax figure by an outside observer if it had not been for the gentle, controlled breaths that expanded his chest outward every few seconds. The stillness of his body contradicted his internal state, which was dominated by a hyper-speed highway of information passing through vigorous analysis. Mateo carefully studied every detail of the scene unfolding in his mind. It played out as most of these memories did; a thick moss-like substance crowded around him filling his mouth, ears, and nose. Gradually, the moss dissipates as Mateo rapidly identifies the connective threads he and the other Longeaveate have in common. He begins formulating new ones as the connection strengthens. The palila he was connecting to was nearly 200 years old but had never accessed the Field before arriving at the Facility. Older palilas with little to no Field training could sometimes be the most difficult to train as they tended to be less open to the process. Years of life experiences, with all of its ups and downs, lefts and rights, leave the mind callused and difficult to access.


    This subject, however, had made good progress in a short time.


    As the memory unfolded around him, Mateo zoned in on a particular detail: a fluttering sensation in his chest that occurred approximately one and half minutes into the session. The memory froze around him as he decoded the sensation. It was a cocktail of elation, anxiety, self-doubt, and intense curiosity all punctuated by a sharp pain of guilt or possibly shame. There was no doubt in Mateo¡¯s mind that this was brought about by a recollection of an encounter with a love lost. He focused in on the distorted imagery that flashed in his mind at the exact moment of the brief experience. Through the fog of the chaotic melange of the most likely distant memory, Mateo could make out a faint outline of a collarbone line, illuminated by a soft light source. The skin was a tone of chestnut, smooth and flawless, glistening with a thin layer of perspiration. As Mateo¡¯s focus increased, the scene became clearer. He followed the neckline up to the jawline of the lost lover. A shadow of facial hair darkened the skin across the lower half of a young man¡¯s face. Arousal and deep affection bubbled to the top of Mateo¡¯s emotional awareness.


    A loud knocking sound suddenly filled the space, startling Mateo and forcing him to drop out of the Memory Pull. A tall brunette was already towering over him when he opened his eyes. Her expression was severe as she stared down at him. She abruptly turned to grab a chair for the corner and sat down facing him.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Carlotta,¡± Mateo said as he turned to face the woman. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of the board. They would like a briefing on what you have found during your sessions with the new arrivals.¡± Although her tone and expression seemed cold, Mateo knew Carlotta well, as they had worked together for some time now, and was accustomed to her unintentionally harsh delivery. He taught her English when she arrived at the facility 2 years ago, using a technique of mind projection which allows for one individual to teach another a skill within a matter of days. This paired with traditional methods of language learning, such as intense immersion, resulted in Carlotta, who had come from a small Austrian village where locals only spoke German and Austrian, becoming fluent in English in six weeks.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been submitting my summary notes every week,¡± Mateo replied with a puzzled expression.


    ¡°Yes, well, they would like to know specifics about what you have noticed with the palilas.¡±


    ¡°What, pray tell, are the ¡®specifics¡¯ they are seeking?¡± Mateo held back the annoyance in his voice, knowing all too well that Carlotta would take it personally. It had become a reflex for him in the last several months to resist the insistent questioning from the Heads of the Facility board regarding additional details they for some reason, believed Mateo was leaving out of his reports. His intention was to provide them with concrete observations, not speculations on what ambiguous details may possibly indicate about a subject. He believed that sharing these assumptions would potentially lead to a biased perspective before a sufficient amount of data could be collected. The Board seemed to have an air of desperation in the wake of the virus outbreak, which could lead to rash decision making. If Mateo could avoid contributing to this, he may be able to gain some real insight into what was possible with the palilas superior genetic mutation.


    ¡°There has been speculation for years about palilas having special talents, aside from the standard traits exhibited by Longeavitates. You yourself have written of such things,¡± Carlotta replied, referencing Mateo¡¯s memoirs of his time living in a Longeavitate commune. Mateo nodded. What talent are they looking for specifically? Mateo couldn¡¯t help but feel uneasy with the persistence and eagerness of the Board on this matter. He recalled a story one of his colleagues had shared with him when he first arrived at the Facility.


    The man had been vague with the details, stating that he didn¡¯t know too much of what had transpired but Mateo sensed him withholding something. At the time, Mateo was more intrigued by the fact that the man was able to block him out, as it seemed very few at the Facility were even familiar with the Sensory Field, let alone capable of wielding it so effectively. In the current moment, however, Mateo reflected on the contents of the story; the Facility was previously run by another, prior to Dr. Adeyemi. The man¡¯s name was Francis-Lloyd Pickering, a highly-skilled Avis that was rumoured to have been a thousand years old. His incredible longevity came at a great cost. It seemed that the burden of so many years of experiences, deaths, losses, triumphs, and failures had become too much for a single man to bear. FL, as he came to be known, had gone completely mad. The colleague did not explain what impact this madness had led to but he did reveal that Adeyemi and other members of the current board initiated a coup to unseat him. FL disappeared one night and no one had seen him since. The board and most of the current staff never mentioned him. It was as though he vanished into thin air. A sense of mistrust towards the Board and, more specifically, towards Adeyemi brewed in Mateo. His mind involuntarily associated his concern to one particular palila who showed signs of possessing a potential, unlike anything he had ever seen before. They mustn¡¯t find out about Jacob, he told himself as he blocked all emotional emission concerning the boy.


    ¡°The training sessions have not yet surfaced any distinguishable talents I¡¯m afraid. Palilas typically require several months of Field training before they can successfully enter with another. Nothing but cottonmouth and thickets thus far.¡± Mateo focused on maintaining a steady heart rate so as not to signal any alarm to Carlotta. She was particularly talented in hyper-vigilance, having been one of Mateo¡¯s keenest pupils. Her eyes darted from one corner of his face to another at lightning speed, much like that of a bird of prey studying its target. Her focus softened after a few moments, indicating she was confident that the consistency of his expressions validated his statement.


    Without another word, she rose and turned to exit the room. ¡°Carlotta,¡± she froze in place, giving Mateo a chance to complete his sentence. ¡°What are they looking for exactly? It may help if I know what I¡¯m looking for.¡±


    Carlotta remained silent for several seconds before replying. ¡° Just make sure to record and submit any and all peculiarities you observe.¡± She quickly exited the room, leaving Mateo to stew in the unsettling mystery.


    ¡­..


    It was nine a.m. when Jacob and the other restoration staff made their way to the south wing of the bunker. If it were any other day, in a world not yet decimated by the virus, he would have dreaded heading off to work so early in the morning. Today, however, his disdain for early rising was overshadowed by his excitement at finally having work placement. He turned his attention back to the woman walking next to him, her large eyes looking up at him attentively. ¡°Luckily, I saw him just before he went under and jumped in after him,¡± Jacob recalled to his captive audience, biting down on his tongue to suppress a cocky smirk from making an appearance. He hadn¡¯t felt the urge to even attempt making a move on anyone in so long.


    Mariana was stunningly beautiful. Her long brown wavy hair flowed down to the small of her back, draping over her shoulders. Jacob admired the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the caramel-coloured skin beneath them smooth and flawless, as he looked down at her. When she parted her full lips ever so slightly, he lost his train of thought as his pent up hormones took over. Mariana must have noticed the shift in him and coyly bit her lip, sending Jacob into a spiral. He may have been an expert at charming women, but Mariana was masterfully turning the power dynamic in her favour.


    ¡°So what happened next?¡± Mariana asked, catching Jacob off guard. ¡°Wha -?¡± He felt his mouth hanging open and promptly shut it, wondering how long he had had the awestruck look on his face. ¡°To your friend?¡± Mariana said with a chuckle. ¡±The one who nearly drowned?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Jacob collected himself, ¡°So I jumped in after him. The current was so strong, I thought I was going to be pulled under myself. I remember swimming as hard as I could, harder than I ever had before. Finally, I was able to grab hold of him and pull him back to shore. It took about 30 minutes to get him back since the current was so strong.¡± Jacob was back in the driver¡¯s seat, satisfied with the look of admiration that came over her face. ¡°That was very brave of you Jacob, ¡° she said sincerely. Although she was nearly 50 years his senior, Jacob noticed that unlike the other Longeavitates who showed their age in their personalities, way of speaking, and reactions, Mariana still seemed to have the light-hearted sense of wonder he was familiar with among people his own age. This made her significantly more attractive to him.


    Their flirtation was abruptly interrupted by the sudden stop in the forward pace of the group, followed by Rikuto Higa¡¯s booming voice echoing throughout the deserted hallway they were heading to. He had stopped before the entryway of the South wing and turned to address his staff. Rikuto¡¯s demeanour contrasted sharply with his small stature. He was direct and commanding in his approach as though he had once held a military leadership position. His speech was slow-paced and deliberate, which Jacob figured was a product of English not being his first language. Jacob, too, maintained a similar speech cadence when speaking English.


    ¡°Welcome to the South wing of Rydal James. Our assignment here will be to clean and restore the wing so that it may be converted to agriculture grow rooms as well as food and supply storage. It is important that we are thorough in our cleaning and sanitization efforts.¡± Rikuto¡¯s thick, black brows bounced and shuffled with each word he said causing Mariana to giggle quietly. Jacob looked over at her with a smirk as she tilted her head towards him, allowing him to catch the scent of her peach perfumed shampoo. This conjured a renewed arousal within him that, thanks to his training with Mateo, he realized he had projected loudly throughout the Field. It must have been pronounced indeed as he noticed several people in the crowd turn to look at him with frowned faces. Embarrassment rose from the pit of his stomach, flooding up his chest and neck. The tsunami of mortification, however, stopped dead in its tracks as Jacob noted a matched sense of desire emitting from Mariana. She looked up at him with a single slow bat of her long lashes, their faces a mir inches from each other.


    ¡°Now,¡± Rikuto exclaimed stupefying the two of them and redirecting their attention back to the front of the crowd. ¡° Each of you will be assigned to a room. You are to sweep the room clean of all debris and wash the walls, door, and floor twice, followed by a sanitation spray down with this solution,¡± he instructed while elevating a clear spray bottle containing a light pink liquid. ¡°You will notice that each bottle has a number written on it. This number will indicate to you which room you will be assigned to. Please form two lines, one before myself and one in front of Nigel,¡± he pointed to the man standing next to him, which Jacob thought may have been the tallest man he had ever seen. ¡°Once you have received your bottle, please proceed to the room correlating to your number. You will find the rest of your cleaning supplies in the room itself.¡± Jacob took a place in the now formed line before Nigel. He jested silently to Mariana to go before him, taking the opportunity to shoot her a suggestive smile. She reciprocated his expression and took her place before him. Jacob¡¯s mind wandered unintentionally into a fantasy where Mariana¡¯s curvaceous figure was suddenly shed of the grey coverall, identical to the ones he and the rest of the team wore.


    In this visualization, their teams also dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the two of them, standing at the intersection of the main hall and the south wing, he placed his hands on her now bare shoulders. she turned, looked back at him, and with a playful raise of her eyebrows she whispered, ¡°Everyone can see this.¡± Confused, Jacob shook lose of the dream state to find that the entire team, including Rikuto and Nigel, was now staring at him in silence. He panned the room feeling his cheeks flush with crimson heat.


    ¡°Mister Comtois,¡± Rikuto¡¯s words rang out with the tone of an angry school principal. He raised his left hand, palm facing inward, and with a flick of his fingers, beckoned Jacob to join him in the front. Jacob obliged, proceeding to meet him with a hurried pace. His mind focused intently on the desire for the crowd to look away. His wish was granted as the others¡¯ attention soon returned to casual conversations with one another, as if nothing had happened. By the expression on Rikuto¡¯s face he, unlike the others, had not moved on.


    ¡°You seem quite distracted young man.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. I -¡± Jacob was cut short Rikuto¡¯s persistence to complete his lecture. ¡° Let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t redirect your focus before we are all subjected to another one of your sexual conquest fantasies.¡±  Jacob was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. The heat of embarrassment washed over his chest and cheeks once more. ¡° Now, now, no need for that,¡± Rikuto said, indicating to Jacob that he had once again projected his emotional state. ¡° We were all teenagers once. Fortunately for the rest of us, we were not such talented projectors as yourself.¡± Rikuto¡¯s expression softened somewhat as he leaned in towards Jacob and continued in a hushed voice, ¡°With training and practice, this skill of yours will prove to be a most powerful tool indeed.¡¯¡¯ With a single firm nod of his head, Rikuto¡¯s speech had come to an end.


    ¡°Room 32, on the right-hand side,¡± Rikuto said, handing the bottle to Jacob. ¡°Off you go, now!¡±


    Jacob entered room 32 through a heavy steel door, much like that of all the rooms he had passed in the hall.  The air was thick with dampness and smelled of rot. It was such a powerful smell that Jacob was hit by a sudden wave of nausea, causing a single gag. Once he had pushed past the urge to vomit, Jacob entered the low lit room with immense reluctance. Something was deeply unsettling about this space, unrelated to the obvious repulsiveness of its odour and medieval dungeon-like aesthetic. He studied the surroundings looking for the possible source of uneasiness it produced. There wasn¡¯t much to look at. A rusted bucket sat in the corner of the room and bits of indistinguishable debris littered the ceramic tiled floor. A single bare lightbulb illuminated the concrete walls of the claustrophobic space. The sense of discomfort loomed within his chest, enticing him to begin his task quickly so as to be rid of it as soon as possible.


    Jacob grabbed the broom leaning against the wall next to the doorway. He proceeded to the far end of the room as the weighted door slammed shut behind him, startling him profoundly, in his already tense state. He shook off the fear imposed by the experience as best as he could and began sweeping up the mess surrounding him. With each passing minute, the sense of dread increased steadily, for reasons Jacob could not identify. He pictured what it would be like to be locked in such a place, imprisoned and left to die alone. The feeling grew, fleshing out a layered emotional landscape too specific to simply be a manifestation of his directionless fear. These were feelings experienced by a real person. Someone who knew this place, who had lived and- died in this place...


    A loose tile rattled under the broom bristles, breaking Jacob free of the dystopian state that had momentarily taken over his mind. He swept over it once more. The sound it produced to call to him, leading him to investigate further. He crouched down and shifted the tile from side to side. He slid the tile all the way to one side and noticed a darkened space below the tile. Propping one corner up with the tip of his finger, he managed to flip the tile over,  revealing a shallow hole with a rag stuffed into it. Thinking there may be something wrapped in the rag, Jacob pulled it out carefully and unraveled it in his palm. The rag did not contain any objects, however, it did seem to hold secrets: something had been inscribed onto it. Jacob stood up and held the rag closer to the light so that he could read it. A wave of sickness overcame him as he consumed the words etched in brown ink across the tattered piece of cloth. He felt the panic manifesting within him; a cold sweat built along his hairline.


    Just as a lightheadedness began to set in, Jacob was once again startled back to the present with the loud screeching of the door as it slowly swung open. He looked over to see Nigel hold the door open with one massive hand while extending the other down to the base of the door, propping it open with a wooden wedge.


    ¡°You want to keep this door open,¡± Nigel said as he stood up. Jacob quickly shoved the rag into his pocket before Nigel¡¯s gaze reached him. ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±


    Nigel looked at him with concern, ¡°Are you okay? You look sickly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. You startled me is all,¡± Jacob could tell that he had not convinced the other. Regardless, Nigel moved on down the hall, presumably to scare another poor soul half to death.


    Jacob placed a hand over the outside of the pocket now containing the mysterious chronicle. He decided that it would be best to keep quiet about it until he could show it to Amir. He may have an idea of what to make of it, Jacob hoped.

 Chapter 6

    To whoever finds this, the Facility is not what it appears to be. Pickering is a monster. No matter what he or his brainwashed followers tell you, do not trust any of it. People are not leaving the bunker of their own free will. They are being silenced for threatening to expose the truth.


    F.L. is testing some technology for trans-dimensional travel. He is rushing the testing but the tech is not ready. Vagrants have been lured into the bunker (or drugged if they are non-compliant) and are being used to test the volatile machine. Not one of them ever leaves the labs. I don¡¯t know what he is doing with them but I do know that they are never seen again. He has also tested on those expressing dissent. They too are never seen again.


    I know my time will soon be up. I can¡¯t say if they will perform testing on me or simply leave me in this room to die. No one has come to this room since I¡¯ve been put here.


    There are people in his inner circle planning a coup. I can¡¯t name any names in case this falls into the wrong hands so I will leave you with this: our Dear Leader shall fall, like all tyrants before him. He has provided us with the weapon of his inevitable demise.


    If you find this as the next unfortunate soul to be locked away here, stay strong. Conserve your energy. Time is all you need now. The end is near.


    Mateo sat at his desk, looking at the stretched-out rag before him. He tried to piece together what fragments of information regarding Francis-Lloyd Pickering, the once president of the Facility, he heard over the last three years. The few that knew anything of that time remained tight-lipped about it. There was no way to obtain accurate accounts of what transpired during the forty years of his leadership. Mateo did know that he and Rydal James started the Facility together, and Francis had gone a bit mad after Rydal left him and the community without a trace. There were rumours of something terrible happening to Rydal, although nothing was specified or confirmed . It seemed as though just speaking of Francis, or F.L. as he was more commonly known, was a traumatic experience for those that knew him personally. Mateo sensed a paralyzing dread come over any of the original Facility members when questioned about those times and so he decided to stop asking.


    As years past and the silence deepen surrounding those forty years, F.L.¡¯s influence loomed over the energy in the Facility, as though his ghost still walked the halls.


    Mateo fixated on the mention of trans-dimensional travel. Why were they developing such a device? Why was F.L. rushing the experiment? What was so pressing, or possibly threatening, that he was willing to murder for it? The longer Mateo contemplated the contents of the inscription, the more questions surface. Parallels from the note and the current state of affairs in the Bunker became unmistakeable. The frigid damp air cut through him in his agitated state, forcing Mateo to stand and pace the short length of the office.


    He recalled his recent encounter with Katerina. The urgency he sensed from her in conjunction with her insistence to know more about the palilas now alarmed him. Could there be a hidden threat kept from the general public residing in the bunker? Why do they need individuals with unique abilities? Are they searching for something specific and if they find it, how do they intend to utilize it? Mateo¡¯s mind raced. He sat down and focused on deepening his sharp, shallow breaths. If he couldn¡¯t get a handle on his mind quickly, he would likely spiral out of control.


    With each even breath, Mateo''s heart rate slowed until it eased to a steady pace. His clenched jaw release which he had not noticed until it had relaxed. For several minutes, his mind was clear, blank, peaceful.  Slowly, thoughts began to creep back in as he softened his focus. A recollection rose to the forefront of his mind.


    Before leaving the commune to pursue a chance to research the gene mutation and its relation to the Sensory Field, Mateo was confronted by one of the elders. Much like all of the oldest Longeavitates he encountered, the exact age of this man was a mystery. The elder recounted a long-kept secret about a particularly dark time for the Longeavitates. For several hundred years, secret laboratories, run by non-mutants, ran tests on the Longeavitates. They were looking to discover what they were capable of so that they could exploit their abilities for various purposes. Avis and palilas alike were plucked from their everyday lives and taken to secret locations where they were maimed and tortured, day in and day out, in an effort to push their abilities to their maximum. If they survived the months of gruelling experimentation, they were sent off to never be seen again. If they died, their bodies were disposed of in a manner that left no trace of the person¡¯s existence. Either way, nearly everyone kidnapped by these secret organizations was never seen again. A few victims succeeded in escaping, and some found refuge in the commune. The elder warned the Longeavitates who ended up captured were often discovered while seeking answers regarding their genetic peculiarity. Their curiosity exposed them to predators.


    At the time, Mateo heeded the elder¡¯s warning, promising to keep his work under the radar of any non- Longeavitates. What struck him now was the possible threat from within the community. In any passionate pursuit, someone can be led down a nefarious path. How often do we justify our actions as reactions to opportunities to improve a situation? Is it even possible to act in the best interest of others, without their knowledge, in times of desperation?Was this the situation unfolding presently? The concept shook Mateo to his core. It was essential that the information contained in this document be kept secret so as not to raise suspicions with the members of the board.


    Mateo tucked the rag into a sock in the back of his drawer and silently devoted himself to protect the palilas. He would need to ensure that particular abilities were not shared with the Board at any cost. He knew his assistants Jovas and Paulina could be trusted. He would need to determine who is a risk. They would also need to maintain a outwardly cooperative appearance. The palilas could not be alerted to this. They were not trained well enough to hide their secrets. As long as the board continued to trust him, they would defer to his judgement. He must maintain that trust at all cost.This was the only way he could keep the palilas safe.


    ¡­..


    So what¡¯s up with us always having to sit in this corner of the library? - Emelie inquired silently as she and Amir sat side by side at two desks that had been pushed together, holding books up in front of them as though they were reading. It¡¯s the only place in the library without a camera aimed at it, Amir responded.


    Emelie¡¯s eyes scanned the ceiling and corners trying to locate a camera. Interesting, she thought once she was satisfied that there were indeed none pointed in their direction.


    How was your last session? Amir conveyed.


    All cotton-mouth and suffocation again, Emelie responded. I can enter with Mateo now and even talk to him for a few minutes but I can¡¯t seem to connect with anyone else.


    Amir noted the disappointment radiating from her. How about you? Emelie asked.


    The last session went pretty well, actually. I was able to enter with Jacob. He noticed Emelie recoil at the mention of the young palila. She never explained why but it was clear she was fearful of him. Amir resisted the urge to press her on the matter just yet and continued recalling the session he had had the previous day.


    When I entered the Field, there was no cottonmouth. Only hard rain. I could hear a faint voice in the distance so I followed it through the downpour. It was hard to move under the pressure. It did seem that as I drew closer to the voice, the rain started to lighten up. There was a tension weighing down on Emelie¡¯s heart but Amir continued, hoping that the positive outcome of the story would cast Jacob in a better light. Eventually, the rain was more of a drizzle and I noticed him in the distance.


    Emelie sat next to him, holding perfectly still as if motionlessness would somehow allow the fear that circled her to move on without actually taking hold of her. Amir felt guilt at the fact that he did not stop sooner. He could no longer hold back. Em, you know you can tell me anything, right? Emelie met his eyes as hers began to well up with tears. Amir extended a hand and placed it on her back, putting her slightly more at ease. She dropped her gaze down to the book now lying on the desk before her. You need to be careful with him. He isn¡¯t what he seems, Emelie clenched her jaw as she transmitted the warning to Amir. She noticed that he wanted to interject with further questioning but held back to allow her space to tell her story. Although reluctant to continue, she figured he would not heed her warning if he didn¡¯t know the depth of the danger Jacob posed. He- can take hold of you. Push you out of control, like he is possessing you or something. It¡¯s like being locked in a cell within your own mind while he takes over. Emelie¡¯s discomfort was palpable. Amir focused to keep his temperament even as she continued.  He did it to me. At first, all he could do was project that horrible memory of losing his little sister onto me. But then it worsen as he started training with Mateo. His ability seemed to strengthen and grow out of control. One day - she paused for a moment to stabilize her mind -  We were talking in the rec room and his imagination seemed to get the best of him. His teenage hormones produced some fantasy scenarios in his mind, like most boys his age. Only Jacob is obviously not a normal seventeen-year-old. I noticed my perspective shift and my vision narrow. It felt like I was a passenger in my own body. I could see, hear, feel everything but had no control. The fantasy seemed to be playing out just as he envisioned it. I felt myself walk over to him and begin to unbuckle his belt. I screamed from inside, trying to break myself out of the trance but I couldn¡¯t. I realized I had no power to regain control. I tried reaching out to Jacob, pleading with him to stop. It seemed to have worked and he pushed me away. He was unfortunately still very much in control. I could feel his guilt and self-loathing as though it were my own.  That familiar memory began to strangle his, and ultimately my mind. I didn¡¯t see the sister in my arms this time. She was laying on the floor next to the mother. I was walking towards the open balcony doors. The pain and suffering I had been feeling when the memory had begun were now evolving quickly. A numbness overtook me. My thoughts were now clear, unencumbered by any grief or emotion at all. My eyes scanned the room around me. They locked onto a picture frame on a small table next to me. There was no time spent to consider anything. My body was in a state of autopilot. In one swift motion, I took the picture, smashed in on the edge of the table, took the largest piece of broken glass, and jammed it into the side of my neck. Amir stared at her in a total state of shock.


    The action seemed to break Jacob¡¯s hold on my mind and he lunged forward towards me to help. By the time he had reached me, the wound had healed. I ran from the room fearing he would take hold of me again if I stayed.


    Emelie could feel the stuntedness of Amir¡¯s ability to react to what he had just been told. She stared forward at the book before her.


    Em, I don¡¯t know what to say. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry that happened to you.¡± The apology was delivered verbally in a hushed tone. Amir was trying to make eye contact with her but her sense of vulnerability was so uncomfortable that she feared she would cry if she met his eye line. Amir¡¯s hand was still on her back and he rubbed it in a circular motion. She closed her eyes in an effort to wipe the experience from her mind.


    ¡°Can we go for a walk?¡± She said with her eyes still shut, tears collecting now behind the lids.


    ¡°Yeah, for sure,¡± Amir replied.


    As they walked the halls of the bunker, more crowded than usual as most of the day¡¯s work duties had let out a couple of hours prior, Emelie suppressed the urge to ask Amir about his brother Fadil. She had lived her entire life not ever acknowledging that she was different. Her curiosity around Amir¡¯s completely opposite experience as well as his elusive twin brother had been gnawing at her for months now. What always held her back was the pain Amir felt every time his brother crossed his mind. Emelie identified the unique feeling within him as one that was only associated with Fadil, so she could tell when Amir had a passing thought of him. It was a similar sensation to the one she felt when she thought of Adrian.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind talking about him,¡± Amir said, having sensed the curiosity in her when she had noted his momentary reflection on his brother.


    ¡°Are you sure? I don¡¯t want you to have to open old wounds.¡± Emelie replied with a distinct caution in her voice.


    ¡°Maybe they should be opened,¡± a bitterness hung to the sentence, as though Amir was frustrated with the fact that he had had such difficulty addressing the subject. ¡°What would you like to know?¡±


    ¡°Just - how did you guys figure it out? You know, that you were different?¡±


    ¡°Well, we didn¡¯t really think we were different at first. We could communicate with our minds but didn¡¯t really acknowledge that it was odd until we were older. People always spoke of twins having special connections. We thought that this is what they meant. We did realize we had something other people didn¡¯t have once we discovered we could heal.¡±


    ¡°And how did that come to be?¡± Emelie asked.


    They turned a corner and found themselves in the male quarters wing. There was a bench against a wall next to one of the sleeping courter doors. Amir took a seat and gestured for her to accompany him, tapping the space next to him. She obliged. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Can I try something?¡± Amir asked Emelie, turning in his seat to face her.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Emelie replied, taken off guard by what seemed like a sudden change in subject.


    ¡°Before we ever spoke to each other, you showed me a memory,¡± Emelie nodded at him, recalling the time she tried to block him out with a memory of her grandfather. ¡°I¡¯d like to try to do it on purpose this time. Are you in?¡± Amir said, hopefully.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Emelie replied.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Amir replied with an excited smile. He turned forward again and instructed that they should both lean back against the wall and close their eyes. Luckily, this wing was barren in the afternoons, or else Emelie would have felt uncomfortable sitting this way with people passing by. She closed her eyes and was immediately taken to a forest. She saw before her two a small boy looking up into a tree. Following his eye line, she looked up to see an identical boy climbing quickly up a tree. As she looked up at the boy, she began to recognize the boy as her brother. She was no longer a viewer of the memory. She was the bearer of it. Unlike the overwhelming sensation she experienced with Jacob, however, her own identity was not pushed aside by Amir¡¯s. They seem to share the space simultaneously. It wasn¡¯t frightening or destabilizing. Emelie felt no reason to not allow the memory to carry on and leaned into the experience.


    ¡°You¡¯re going too high! I can¡¯t see you!¡± Amir shouted up to his brother Fadil from the ground below the massive oak tree in the forest behind the local sports complex. Fadil had seemingly shrunk to the size of a cat, from where Amir was standing. Amir knew that Fadil was going to have to try to beat his record by climbing higher than he had a few minutes before. His brother was fiercely competitive. This time however, Amir feared that he was about to push it too far. From what he could tell, Fadil was already several feet higher that Amir¡¯s record and was continuing to ascend.


    ¡°Okay! You win! You beat me! Come on down now!¡± Fadil ignored his twin. Amir, who had always looked out for his dare devil brother, sighed as he dropped his eyes, looking around him now as though there may be something that might help convince Fadil to come down. The oak was old and at least 100 feet tall and Fadil seemed to be about 80 feet up, Amir thought. Every worst-case scenario was racing through his mind until his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sense of pride and reassurance. Fadil was doing that thing again. Ever since they turned 10 years old a few months ago, the boys had started to notice that they were able to send signals to one another.


    It started in the classroom, during a test, when Amir started to sense panic from what seemed like an outside source. He knew that he was not panicked and felt confident about the test. It was a math test after all, his strongest subject. An image of a hardly filled out test sheet with eraser makes all over it and wet blotches emerged in his mind. He knew right away who the test belonged to. Amir looked over at his brother who was holding his head in his hands, red faced and silently sobbing, making a great deal of effort to mask the state he was in. Fadil had always struggled tremendously with math. This was very unfortunate as the boys¡¯ father was a mechanical engineer and expected his sons to follow in his footsteps. Amir was well on his way, even at this young age, but Fadil¡¯s lack of success in subjects that were key to a future in engineering was a sore spot for their father.


    Amir was not sure what had happened that day, but it started to happen more frequently. They soon developed the ability to send each other emotional signals. This was what Fadil was doing to Amir now.


    A sharp cracking of a large branch rang out across the forest. Fadil sent Amir a sudden sense of dread and terror. The branch beneath his feet was breaking.


    ¡°Fadil you have to come down no-¡±, alas, it was too late. Another loud crack rang out followed by many others as Fadil fell from the top of the great oak.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Amir panicked as his brother¡¯s body hit multiple branches on its way down, raining small trigs and leaves onto him as he looked up, down and around for a solution. Fadil was quickly approaching the ground now and Amir did the only thing he could muster in his state of panic. He ran the spot where Fadil¡¯s body was about to crash into the ground. He extended his arms, moving about beneath his brother¡¯s descending body, trying to follow the trajectory that continued to change slightly every time it hit a branch. Fadil was no longer sending any emotional signals. Amir continued to look up as the body reached the last few braches of the massive tree however, the debris from the fall what pouring down so hard on his face that he could no longer keep his eyes open. He closed them and hoped he was in the right position at the right time¡­


    Fadil landed directly on his brother, breaking both of his extended arms immediately and scraping the skin on his forehead and nose. They both hit the ground hard. After a moment of total blackness, Amir¡¯s eye shot open widely. At first, he felt the sharp pain in his arms, but it subsided quickly. He turned his head to the right, as he felt a weight on his arm and extended leg. His limbs may have been broken but he wanted to reach out to touch his brother, who was in a fetal position, turned away from him. He made the effort to reach his left arm over to Fadil¡¯s back, and to his surprise, it worked! His arm felt fine actually. He could have sworn it was just broken. He didn¡¯t have time to dwell on that now. With his left hand griping onto Fadil¡¯s shoulder, he propped himself up on his right elbow, not immediately noticing that his right arm was indeed fine, as well.


    ¡°F-fadil¡± he said allowed softly, almost as though he was afraid to wake his brother from a deep slumber. No answer.


    He gently pulled his shoulder towards him to flip Fadil onto his back. His brother¡¯s face was covered in blood and dust. The feeling of pure terror rushed over him. Could Fadil be¡­


    Just as the thought entered his mind, he felt a spark shock his body, as though he had just touched an open light socket. Then a huge gasp came from Fadil as he jolted forward and back down again. Coughing and gashing for air.


    ¡°Oh God, I thought you were dead!¡± Amir shouted gently raise his hand over his brother¡¯s face and picking some of the blood-soaked debris off. ¡°I have to get you home right away.¡± Amir tried to pick his brother up, but he was too heavy. He looked around frantically and heard the voice of some kids playing at the park. He remembered as they had passed the park earlier, he saw his older sister making her way to the picnic tables where all the teenages would hand out and smoke. He really did not want to involve her, but he admitted reluctantly to himself that he had too as he could not bring Fadil home on his own. ¡°I¡¯m going to go get ¡°his sister¡±! She¡¯s just down the hill at the park!¡¯ he placed his brother gently on his side as he continued to come to, moaning a little and rocking slightly. Amir ran as fast as he could though the thinning trees. He did his best to dodge the stumps and branches, occasionally hitting one and stumbling a little but never fully losing his balance. Finally, he reached the baseball diamond and sprinted across the out-field towards the picnic table were his older sister was, sitting on some tall, lanky boy¡¯s lap who had his arms around her waist. As Amir drew closer, he began shouting for his Mira.


    ¡°Come quick! Please, Fadil is hurt.¡± After three or four attempts, his sister finally turned her head towards him and, seemingly as she noticed that it was her brother, she quickly jumped up from the boy¡¯s lap and brushed the front of her clothes with her palms.


    ¡°Amir? What did you get into, you are filthy!¡± she walked towards him, quickly distancing herself from the crowd she hadn¡¯t wanted to be seen with, especially not by the one brother she knew would rat her out. This time however, her secret would remain quite safe as Amir could not have been bothered to care if her greasy boyfriend whom her parents despised and for bayed her from associating with had been groping her at the park. Normally, this would have deeply bothered him, but in the moment, he considered the fact that his punishment for Fadil¡¯s injuries would supersede anything he could have imagined his parents would ever lay on his rebellious older sister.


    ¡°Mira¡±, please, come quick. Fadil is hurt bad.¡±


    His sister¡¯s eyes widened ¡°Where is he?¡± she asked firmly.


    ¡°Amir pointed to the bushy hill behind him. ¡°In the back woods.¡± He and his sister hurried across the baseball field as towards where Fadil lied and Amir attempted to brief his sister on what had happened. Amir realised she was quickening her pace a great deal as he told her more and more of the gruesome details, until she was quite a way ahead of him. ¡°Fadil!¡± she bellowed out with a strong urgency in her voice. ¡°Amir, now moving as quickly as he could to catch up with her, though he could hear Fadil responding to her quite clearly. It could be though. His brother had barely been conscious when he had left to seek help.


    Just then he spotted them in the distance. to his complete shock and amazement Fadil was standing!


    ¡°Oh, you two really think this is funny? Someday, you two are going to get it!¡± She was storming away from Fadil and was fast approaching him. She looked very annoyed and as she came up on him, she sot as him.  ¡°You two think this is some clever prank?¡± she sassily said to him as she barreled closer. He though she might knock him out by the way she approached but at the last moment, she stormed right passed him, down the hill. She stopped for a moment at turn back to face him. ¡°And you can go ahead and tell mom about Paul. I will just have to make sure she knows that you two destroyed your good clothes by messing around in the gutters again.¡± She turned on her heel and continued back to her forbidden friends.


    Amir was stunned and turned back to where his brother stood. Fadil was running towards him now, like nothing had even happened.


    ¡°Amir! I think I¡¯m like Superman! I am invincible!¡±


    Amir pushed off the tree he was leaning on with his shoulder and took a few steps towards the memory unfolding before him. This was the second time he had come back to this memory, the day that changed his and Fadil¡¯s lives forever, in hopes that it might help him decode the message behind his nightmares. They became more frequent since he arrived in the bunker. This day had to hold some answers for him, he thought. When Mateo had trained him in regression memory generating, he had briefly mentioned that it could be used for more than just a tool to analyze old memories as snapshots of mission developments. There were some that had used it in the early years of mutation harnessing training to help troubled sleepers overcome reoccurring nightmares. Those that practiced this technique began to recognize that they were able to solve deep subconscious problems during their practice. If Amir wanted to decode anything regarding his relationship with his brother, he would have to thoroughly analyze the day they realized they were super human.


    Unlike many of the Palipas in the Facility, Amir had always known that he and his brother were very different from other people. After the day Fadil had fallen, they had each jumped out of that tree a dozen times, jumped in front of moving cars, and had even cut the top of Amir¡¯s pinky toe clean off. In conducting there makeshift experiments, they determined ¡°the rules¡± of their ¡°powers¡±. The first was that they could heal from almost anything, so long as the injury didn¡¯t consist of some part of the body being detached from the rest (much like the tip of Amir¡¯s toe, which never did manage to grow back.) The second was that they could communicate with each other if they were in great danger. They would not discover until their late twenties that they could in fact communicate any time. There were many rules they would devise over the years, but rule number eight would remain the only rule that ever really mattered to Amir. Rule number eight, we never tell, or show anyone what we can do. Fadil did try to challenge him on it, stating that they could fight crime and help others, but Amir was addiment. It could put them, and their family in danger. This was how Amir made all decisions in life. He would play out every possible scenario that could occur, then base his decision on what would be the path of least resistance. ¡°Why live dangerously when you don¡¯t have to, right?¡± he would always tell Fadil. Amir finally convinced did Fadil to stay quite after reminding him that true superheroes always hide their identity.


    Amir walked down the forest hill as Fadil excitedly told his younger self that he had died at first but came back like a Phoenix reborn! Amir smiled to himself and he took another step down the hill. He stayed in the memory just long enough to hear his favourite part of Fadil¡¯s recanting.


    ¡­..


    Amir made his way down the hall that housed the offices and labs for sensory and medical testing. The agenda indicated sensory training would take place in room A. J. at three-thirty pm with a new, unnamed partner.


    With a hurried pace, Amir scanned each door, feeling a pain of anxiety in his chest at the thought of Mateo¡¯s disappointment in his tardiness. The sensation was both nostalgic and irritating as he reflected on his long deceased father''s influence on him. Although he appreciated the values instilled in him, he didn¡¯t enjoy the child-like paternal fear that lingered after so many years.


    Lost in thought, Amir nearly missed the door he was seeking. He twisted the door handle and entered hurriedly, turning to the two-way mirror to apologize to Mateo on the other side.


    ¡°Not to worry, Mr. Rahal,¡± Amir noted the disapproving tone of the trainer¡¯s voice even through the muffledness of the speaker. ¡°Please take your seat.¡± Amir turned to face his partner for the session. Seated on the mat in the center of the room was the slim, long-legged brunette with dark brown, almond-shaped eyes that Amir had come to know quite well in the last several weeks. Emelie smiled widely at him and, in a circular motion, rubbed the carpet before her.


    ¡°Have a seat, Mr.  Rahal,¡± She said playfully. Amir chuckled as he walked over to a seat in front of her, assuming the position for sensory field entry. This should be fun, Emelie projected with a coy smile. Amir sensed a curiosity and excitement in her that mirrored his own. Their connection was so strong. How would this translate in the Field?


    He closed his eyes, and there was Emilie, sitting inches in front of him, just like she had been a second before. She smiled widely at him. Her eyes shone with elation.


    ¡°Hi.¡±


    Amir smiled back, ¡°Hi.¡± Emilie crinkled her nose as she smiled. She had an aura of excitement. Her sense of infatuation mirrored his own for a brief moment, but as suddenly as he had noticed it, the sensation had been stifled. Emilie broke off into another emotional direction.


    ¡°This is amazing, isn¡¯t it?¡± Emilie said as she looked around them. Amir hadn¡¯t noticed until now that they were sitting in a green field, with the sun shining brightly above and a forest to their right.


    Emilie focused on the forest. ¡°Shall we?¡± She said and stood up. Amir stood beside her and followed her as she entered the woods.


    As they walked through the trees, Amir could feel himself tapping into Emilie¡¯s core being and she into his. She brought him into a memory of hers; she was 8 years old, standing in a small pond looking into the water. Her rubber boots were too quick to keep the water from trickling over the rim. Amir felt cold water run down his leg. He was standing in the same pond, both looking at and feeling like he was the little blond girl before him. She suddenly and swiftly drove one hand into the water, followed by the other, and as she pulled her arms out of the pond, a small, brown and green frog was trapped firming between her two small hands. Amir felt something cold and slimy in his own hands. He looked down and noticed that he, too, was holding the frog in the same fashion as the girl. A rush of excitement and pure joy filled his heart. He felt like a boy again, bike riding through the back streets of Boston with Fadil. And just like that, he was there, pedalling down Melville Ave as hard as possible. Fadil was just ahead of him, as usual. They may have been identical, but somehow, his brother was always just a little faster than him. Amir didn¡¯t mind, though. He wasn¡¯t very competitive but loved to indulge Fadil, who very much was. The cool late summer air brushed across his cheeks and through his hair as he dropped his hands to his sides and continued pedalling, slowing his pace a little. He felt free. Any worries he may have were many miles away. At that very moment, he felt as though someone else was with him. Well, not with him in the sense that they were riding alongside him, but sharing his perspective from inside of him. It was Emilie. She was right there, feeling, seeing and experiencing every moment with him and as him.


    At that very moment, they both heard someone in the distance say, ¡°Time¡¯s up!¡±


    Then, someone loudly clapped their hand.


    ¡°Times up!¡± It was much louder this time, and they realized it was Mateo''s voice. They both opened their eyes and were back in the booth, Facing one another. Emilie¡¯s eyes were watery as tears streamed down her cheeks. She wasn¡¯t sad, though. She was overwhelmed. Amir knew the feeling. He was also in a state of awe. He could not even categorize the feelings swelling in his chest.


    ¡°One hour!¡± Mateo exclaimed. ¡°The best time yet!¡±