tries to
pull him back, reaches the cup toward me. His father looks down. It’ll be all right, son.
But he wants a drink.
The father turns. But it’s not the kid’s
father holding his hand. It’s my father. It’ll be all
right.
I reach but they are too far. Wait, wait!
Don’t go. I… I need a drink.
Black eyelight.
An eruption. Something gets out.
Spindle is crumpled against a boulder, its
surface indented with the force of his body. The boulders, sand and
sky disappear into the ground. I’m in a white room. Spindle
sprawled on the floor.
Eyelight out.
I screamed.
“You’re dreaming, Socket.” Mother placed her
hand on my arm.
I was in a bed. The room was warm and
spacious. The only furniture was the bed I was sitting on and the
chair Mother stood by. Several monitors blipped near the bed. A
wide window, across the room, covered the entire wall and
overlooked green mountains in the distance. The view cast a glow
through the dimly lit room.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“You’re in the infirmary.”
My left arm tingled where skin was scuffed
away. There was a fight. Spindle’s fingers. Sand. Was that
yesterday?
“You were in the pre-Trial exercise two days
ago,” she said. “But you exhausted your energy levels and slipped
into a short coma.”
“I don’t remember timeslicing. How could I
exhaust myself?”
“There were some… unexpected reactions.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to say until we get a full
analysis. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Did I pass?”
She nodded, then took a note tablet and some
recording gear off the nightstand and put them in her
briefcase.
“Why am I dressed in street clothes?” I
asked.
“We’re going home.”
“Home? I was just… wait.” I looked around.
“Where’s Spindle?”
She finished packing, stood straight and
pushed her hair behind her ear. She blew out her breath, as if it
was stale and tired. She tried that fake reassuring smile but
didn’t even have the strength to do that. “He’s being attended
to.”
“Is he all right? I didn’t… he’s not hurt, is
he?”
“He’ll be good as new, Socket, but he’ll need
some maintenance before he’s activated again.”
He was slumped against the boulder. There was
an indention in the stone, as if he’d been shot from a cannon. No
eyelight. He had me beat. He was inches from ending the exercise,
but somehow I threw him off. That part was blank. But I saw him,
motionless. Lifeless.
“Pon made me do it.”
“It’s part of training. Spindle will be fine,
trust me.” She stroked my arm reassuringly. “Now, can you swing
your legs off the bed? I don’t want you to stand just yet, just let
your feet touch the floor.”
I just woke up and she was rushing me out the
door. Why didn’t they just wheel me out to the car while I was
comatose? Maybe that’s what she was getting ready to do.
My feet were cold, tingling with pins and
needles. The floor hurt. Mother clutched my arm to slow me down,
making sure I didn’t try to the stand. My weight ached in my shins.
I was already breathing hard. The room was getting darker.
“Sit there a second.” She touched her nojakk
cheek. “I need three servys in infirmary 204 with a floater as soon
as possible. ” Then she muttered to herself. “Where the hell
are they ?”
“He cannot leave the premises.” Pon stood
against the wall. Was he there the entire time?
“I don’t need your permission,” Mother
said.
“He is my cadet. He will stay.”
“He’s depleted, Pon! You can read the
diagnosis yourself. He needs rest.”
Pon stood resolute, hands clamped behind his
back. “He needs to focus.”
“HE NEEDS REST, GODDAMNIT!” Mother slammed
the nightstand, knocking a cup to the floor. “He has barely slept
in the past month. He has logged more training hours than any other
cadet. He cannot continue at this rate and I think the result of
the last exercise is proof enough!”
“The Realization Trial is
pull him back, reaches the cup toward me. His father looks down. It’ll be all right, son.
But he wants a drink.
The father turns. But it’s not the kid’s
father holding his hand. It’s my father. It’ll be all
right.
I reach but they are too far. Wait, wait!
Don’t go. I… I need a drink.
Black eyelight.
An eruption. Something gets out.
Spindle is crumpled against a boulder, its
surface indented with the force of his body. The boulders, sand and
sky disappear into the ground. I’m in a white room. Spindle
sprawled on the floor.
Eyelight out.
I screamed.
“You’re dreaming, Socket.” Mother placed her
hand on my arm.
I was in a bed. The room was warm and
spacious. The only furniture was the bed I was sitting on and the
chair Mother stood by. Several monitors blipped near the bed. A
wide window, across the room, covered the entire wall and
overlooked green mountains in the distance. The view cast a glow
through the dimly lit room.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“You’re in the infirmary.”
My left arm tingled where skin was scuffed
away. There was a fight. Spindle’s fingers. Sand. Was that
yesterday?
“You were in the pre-Trial exercise two days
ago,” she said. “But you exhausted your energy levels and slipped
into a short coma.”
“I don’t remember timeslicing. How could I
exhaust myself?”
“There were some… unexpected reactions.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to say until we get a full
analysis. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Did I pass?”
She nodded, then took a note tablet and some
recording gear off the nightstand and put them in her
briefcase.
“Why am I dressed in street clothes?” I
asked.
“We’re going home.”
“Home? I was just… wait.” I looked around.
“Where’s Spindle?”
She finished packing, stood straight and
pushed her hair behind her ear. She blew out her breath, as if it
was stale and tired. She tried that fake reassuring smile but
didn’t even have the strength to do that. “He’s being attended
to.”
“Is he all right? I didn’t… he’s not hurt, is
he?”
“He’ll be good as new, Socket, but he’ll need
some maintenance before he’s activated again.”
He was slumped against the boulder. There was
an indention in the stone, as if he’d been shot from a cannon. No
eyelight. He had me beat. He was inches from ending the exercise,
but somehow I threw him off. That part was blank. But I saw him,
motionless. Lifeless.
“Pon made me do it.”
“It’s part of training. Spindle will be fine,
trust me.” She stroked my arm reassuringly. “Now, can you swing
your legs off the bed? I don’t want you to stand just yet, just let
your feet touch the floor.”
I just woke up and she was rushing me out the
door. Why didn’t they just wheel me out to the car while I was
comatose? Maybe that’s what she was getting ready to do.
My feet were cold, tingling with pins and
needles. The floor hurt. Mother clutched my arm to slow me down,
making sure I didn’t try to the stand. My weight ached in my shins.
I was already breathing hard. The room was getting darker.
“Sit there a second.” She touched her nojakk
cheek. “I need three servys in infirmary 204 with a floater as soon
as possible. ” Then she muttered to herself. “Where the hell
are they ?”
“He cannot leave the premises.” Pon stood
against the wall. Was he there the entire time?
“I don’t need your permission,” Mother
said.
“He is my cadet. He will stay.”
“He’s depleted, Pon! You can read the
diagnosis yourself. He needs rest.”
Pon stood resolute, hands clamped behind his
back. “He needs to focus.”
“HE NEEDS REST, GODDAMNIT!” Mother slammed
the nightstand, knocking a cup to the floor. “He has barely slept
in the past month. He has logged more training hours than any other
cadet. He cannot continue at this rate and I think the result of
the last exercise is proof enough!”
“The Realization Trial is
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