Ordinary Read online

  The cafeteria is crowded this morning. Close to fifty other test subjects shuffle along the line to get food, then move to a table. With so many, there’s no choice but to sit with someone else.

  I hold my food and glance around the room. Miller is alone, and I notice no one else makes a move to sit with him. Jade is at another table, but all the seats are taken. The Trouble Trio she warned me about are near Miller, but I don’t dare sit in the open chair at their table. With little choice, I set my things on Miller’s table and sit. He doesn’t even glance up at me.

  “Do you need something?” he asks.

  “Just a chair,” I say, shifting to see out the window. “We don’t have to talk, but I do need to sit.”

  Miller’s lips thin as he pokes at his eggs with a disposable fork.

  As I eat, I gaze out the window. It’s hard to tell exactly how high up we are—my guess would be floor 100 or 101 based on the room numbers—but it’s high enough that I can see beyond the limits of Elpis to what remains of the world.

  Broken and crumbling homes, highways, factories. Dead trees. Brown grass. The War between those with Powers and those without destroyed everything. When Atmos lost control of his Atmokinesis Power, nuclear power plants lost control all around the world. Billions died when they blew up or leaked, creating full-scale nuclear destruction of cities, towns, and life as it was known.

  Elpis rose from the ashes of ruin, the last bastion of hope for our world. At the foundation of the city, Powered people worked together to heal the ruined soil and rebuild a safe zone. For the first few years, people trickled in from the world beyond the city. Eventually, it stopped. Only those with Powers remained; the survivors of our race.

  No one knows what happened to the rest of the world. No one outside Elpis ever made contact once refugees stopped coming, so it’s hard to say if anything else even exists. I find it hard to accept that we are all that is left of humanity.

  Miller breaks through my pensive silence. “Where’s the fire?”

  “What?”

  He waves an empty fork at me. “You’re thinking hard about something.”

  “Well… just the War.”

  Miller harrumphs, gazing out the window. “It’s the excuse they use for Proposition 8.5.”

  My gaze snaps back to him. “You know about it?”

  “You don’t?”

  “I… a little, I guess.” Maybe he can enlighten me. “Just that people with weak Powers will have to be retested.”

  Miller snorts. “Most of the people here would fall under the purview of the law.” He takes a drink of juice, then tosses the empty cup onto his plate. “The powers that be believe that we are going backward, and if we lose our Powers we won’t survive. No more fixing the soil or building up new structures for growth. No more moving forward. They’re using fear of regression and complete societal failure as an excuse to force people into this testing so they can get answers.” He waves around the room. “And if you aren’t useful, you’re worthless.”

  “What’s wrong with the testing here?”

  Miller gives me a flat stare, then gathers his trash and stands. “Better finish up and get to your room on time for testing.”

  I watch Miller leave, then look out at the land beyond again. What if everyone else is right, though? What if society can’t survive without Powers to save us? What if I’m both the problem and the cure?

  ~~~

  My room feels oddly comforting. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the hallway, thinking about what Miller said. The door suddenly swings shut, and the bolt clangs into place.

  “Please stand on the simulation platform. Testing shall commence in ten seconds,” Overwatch says. “Participation is compulsory.”

  A group of tiles in a five-by-five square turn red, pulsing with light.

  Chest pounding, I shuffle forward onto the red light.

  The walls of the room are no longer there. Everything that was my room blinks out of existence, replaced by a doorway carved into a glass-panel wall.

  “Step through the doorway, Ugene, and I will guide you through the test,” a male voice commands from overhead, and something familiar about it itches at my mind.

  I step through, trembling.

  The room is a white dome. Two other test subjects in their gray scrubs are the only color in the room. They both stare at me, eyes wide with fear. One—a short girl with long black hair—cradles her arms over her chest, shaking. The other—a young man with a chubby face and sunken eyes—holds his hands in fat fists at his sides. No one moves.

  Forrest Pond, Bianca’s older brother, appears between us and the other two take a cowering step back.

  Forrest has worked at Paragon for four years now, to my knowledge. It makes sense that Dr. Cass would pair me with him. Not only is Forrest brilliant, but he’s familiar. I never heard what his official Divinic rank was, but my guess would be pretty high to score this job so young.

  “Use the materials given and your Powers to create this,” Forrest says, holding up his palm. A holographic image of a dense rainforest appears. “The rainforest must reach at least seventy-five percent viability to complete the test. Testing will not end until the task is completed. Some materials have limited availability, so use your resources wisely. Again, testing will not end until you successfully complete the task, no matter how long it takes. Participation is compulsory. Begin.”

  Forrest disappears. The room transforms into the dead remains of a rainforest in the blink of my eyes. Trees with dead bark and no leaves. Brittle brush dry as tumbleweeds. Spotty patches of water. The smell of something like rotting fish fills the air. The girl gags, losing part of her breakfast on the dry ground.

  Create a rainforest out of this? What is the goal here? I have no idea what Paragon is after, and I have no Powers. I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this at all. But there’s no way I’m just supposed to sit back and wait for the other two to do all the work—nor would I feel good about it.

  The other two are wandering in opposite directions, setting to work. Their Powers aren’t terribly effective. I can’t be sure what either can do, but as every time one revitalizes a section, the dead space around it closes in and destroys their work. I’m not the only one who can’t do this alone. It’s evident to me that their Powers aren’t going to be sufficient on their own.

  Unsure what else to do, I take some time wandering the space between them, examining what could be useful as resources. Forrest said there’s something. Maybe one of these two can identify those resources.

  Deciding that I need to know who I’m working with, I approach the boy first. He takes several quick and ill-placed steps backward, tripping over a dead tree root and tumbling to his back.

  “It’s okay,” I say, holding out a hand to help him up. “I’m Ugene.”

  His eyes narrow as he considers whether to take my hand, but resignation takes over. He slips a hand in mine, and I help haul him to his feet.

  He brushes the dirt off his scrubs and says, “Boyd. Wh-what’s your-your…”

  “Power? I don’t have one.”

  Boyd’s sunken eyes suddenly come to life as they widen in shock. “None?”

  I shake my head. “You?”

  “Tran-transmutation. E-energy.”

  Useful. Boyd can transform matter into related energy.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” I reassure him. “Maybe we can work together on this.”

  “Together?” Boyd shakes his head. “No. We aren’t supposed to…”

  “Why?”

  “I…” Boyd suddenly appears uncertain. “I don’t kn-know.”

  “Well there’s no way Forrest honestly thinks I can do anything in here,” I say, motioning to the dead landscape around us. “Which could only mean one thing.”

  Boyd appears thoughtful, then nods.

  I turn to the girl, who is pressing a hand to the trunk of one of the trees. “What about you?” I call over. “What’s your Power?”r />
  She flashes me a dangerous look, then disappears around a tree. I squint through the bramble and see her in flashes as she moves from one tree to the next.

  “What’s her problem?” I mutter.

  “E-enid doesn’t like people,” Boyd says.

  “Why?”

  “Everyone ha-has their rea-reasons,” Boyd says it so matter-of-factly that I can’t help but agree.

  “So what can she do?”

  “Env-environmental Cre-cre-creation.” Boyd struggles with each word, and I wonder how long he’s had the stutter. And why no one has helped him overcome it.

  “Enid!” I call out, jogging in her direction as her form darts between trees. Boyd’s loafers scuff the ground as he tries to keep up. “Wait, we can work together.”

  “Leave me alone!” she calls from behind a tree.

  A loud pop shakes the floor, followed by the crackling of breaking tree branches and bramble. I look up just in time to see the tree falling directly toward Boyd and me. With a yelp, I throw my weight against Boyd, and the two of us roll across the ground, twigs, and rocks cutting our skin. Before we have a chance to recover, another falls right beside it.

  “Move,” I say, grabbing the back of Boyd’s shirt as our loafers scramble away. They were too close to be a coincidence. “Enid, stop!”

  “Leave me alone,” she says again.

  What is her problem?

  “But if we—”

  The roots shoot up out of the ground around us, forming a cage over Boyd and me. The roots are old and brittle, but too thick for me to break no matter how hard I tug. Why is she doing this?

  Enid steps around the fallen trees and prowls closer. “Stay out of my way, and we won’t have a problem.”

  “Enid, we need each other to finish this test,” I plead, but she doesn’t care. She’s no longer cowering and shaking. Enid stands straight—though a bit short—her palms turned outward toward the cage.

  “I don’t need anyone.” Desperation clings to her voice. “This is my test. I will finish it alone.”

  “Enid, please!”

  But she’s already walking away.

  “Resources are limited,” I call after her. “That’s what Forrest said. You’re using up resources you need. Boyd can help you restore the rainforest.”

  “I don’t need anyone!” Her small voice echoes off the dead trees.

  The ground rattles and little by little green color returns to the ground as Enid pumps her Power into the earth. But the earth fights back, refusing to accept her renewal. She can’t do this by herself. None of us can.

  The cage around us grows from the ground, the roots of the trees around us. It isn’t terribly significant. Just big enough to give us space to stretch out our legs in front of us but not enough to lay or stand. The bars are not evenly spaced. I shift toward one of the larger gaps and try to squeeze my slim body through, but it’s just barely too narrow. A quick scan of the ground doesn’t reveal anything useful to break the bars, and I can’t reach far enough out to grab anything of use. It’s an efficient cage, and I’m powerless to escape.

  I turn to Boyd.

  “You okay?” I ask, seeing him cradling his left arm.

  “I think it bro-broke.”

  “Okay.”

  I kneel beside him and gingerly press my fingers to his forearm for a distinct break. Tears roll down Boyd’s cheeks, but he doesn’t make a sound. His arm is swelling, but I can’t feel any noticeable breaks. “I’m not sure if it’s broke. It might just be sprained. Here.”

  I dig at the bark on the branch closest to us until a long strip comes free, then place his arm against the smooth inside of the bark. Without any vines around, the only thing we have to create a sling is our clothes. I pull off my shirt, rip the fabric to make it longer, and form a sling to cradle Boyd’s arm against his chest.

  “Sm-sm-smart,” Boyd mumbles.

  “You don’t need Powers to have brains,” I say, helping him to his feet. We have to hunch over in the cage. It won’t be long before our muscles cramp up in this space. We need out. “Can you do anything about these roots? Even just one or two so we can slip out.”

  He shakes his head.

  “What about their energy? Do the roots have enough energy for you to manipulate and break them?”

  Boyd doesn’t respond. He stands, hunched, holding his sling, staring at the branches as tears wet his cheeks and sweat beads his forehead.

  “I do-don’t,” he gasps.

  A high-pitched scream shatters the air and all the green that had crept across the forest floor retreats. Gone.

  Enid.

  “We need to get out of here.” I kneel in front of Boyd, hoping he can sense the urgency. “Can you do anything at all about these roots?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  What kind of testing was this?

  “Boyd, listen to me. Something is happening to her. The testing won’t end until we complete the assignment, and we need her to do it. You have to get us out.”

  Boyd nods reluctantly, then returns his attention to the bars of the wooden cage. If the branches weren’t so thick, I would just break them, but at nearly six inches around, there’s no way I could get through without a knife or ax.

  Sweat rolls down Boyd’s forehead as he pours his Power into his task. I hold my breath, hoping beyond hope that he will succeed. A branch cracks. I grin and throw my weight against it. It takes a couple of attempts, but eventually the root snaps like a twig. I offer Boyd a hand to help him out of the narrow space. I slip through easily enough, but it’s a tighter fit for him.

  “Enid!” I call out, headed in the direction she disappeared. She couldn’t have gone too far.

  I run, and even though my feet occasionally slip on the ground, Boyd has a hard time keeping up.

  Some of the trees have thorns that look more like twisted horns, and more than a few lean half-out of the ground. I try to give these the widest berth, with no desire to impale myself on one of them in my haste.

  Enid’s cries guide me as I draw closer until a clearing opens among the trees. Enid is pinned down on one knee, her calf pierced by one of the thorny trees that fell. Unlike the others, this one is green beneath the thorns.

  “Leave me!” Enid cries, pushing me away with one hand feebly as I move around her to inspect the damage.

  “Be still, Enid.” I can’t grab the tree to and hoist it up without sticking myself and doing so would risk further damage to her calf. Right now, it only looks like two of the thorns found a way into her leg. A couple more scraped her skin. “We have to move the tree.”

  “No.” She breathes out the word. Tears stream down her cheeks. She searches the sky above and calls out. “I failed the test. Let me out.”

  “Fine, just relax.” I search for a branch thick enough to wedge under the trunk.

  “I can’t do it! Please!” she calls out to the sky—to Overwatch. Is Forrest watching all of this?

  A branch pokes out of dried up brush. It isn’t as thick as I would like, but it’s long enough and will have to do. As I carefully wedge it under the tree close to her leg, Enid cries and pleads for me to stop, for someone to come get her, for the end of the test. I wrap both arms around the branch and pull, but it barely moves. Boyd moves to help, but I wave him back.

  “When I pull it clear you need to help her slip out quick,” I tell him. “I won’t be able to hold it long.”

  Muscles. Something I never really had, but now really wish I did. I wrap my arms around the branch again and hug it close this time, hanging my weight from it and dangling above the ground.

  Enid screams as the thorns pull out of her calf, and Boyd awkwardly uses one hand to pull her out. The whole trunk shifts. The branch snaps. My back hits the unforgiving ground, knocking the air out of my lungs. My head hits the ground hard enough to make my vision momentarily go black.

  I roll on my side, rubbing all the sore spots. Enid and Boyd both lay on the ground, staring at the sky
. Both injured. Why would Paragon let something like this happen?

  13

  After tearing off the leg of Enid’s pants at the knee and inspecting the wound, I wrap it in the cloth, then the three of us lean against the trunk of a massive tree, staring at the dead land around us. Mist falls on us, making our clothes stick to our skin. The scent of wet dirt fills the air. Mist… I sit up and look toward the ceiling—it is a ceiling after all—and realize we are supposed to revive this rainforest. If water is already here, we just have to convert the energy to bring it back to life.

  “You didn’t leave me,” Enid says in a small voice, staring straight ahead.

  “Why would I?”

  “Everyone does.” She looks over at Boyd, who has his eyes closed, though I know he isn’t sleeping. “You helped us both. Why?”

  I don’t understand the question. Helping is just what people do. It’s what my mother taught me, and my dad instilled in me. “I don’t really understand what’s going on here, but I do know one thing. This test requires both of you.” I pick up what looks like an orange almond shell and chuck it at one of the loathsome spiked trees. “I’m the one who doesn’t have anything to offer. Why am I here?”

  What good does my presence do in a test like this? Maybe Forrest is hoping a Power will just spontaneously pop out. Good luck with that.

  “What can you do?” Enid asks, brushing tears from her cheeks. Or is that mist? I can’t tell.

  “Nothing.”

  For the first time, she looks at me—just like everyone else, examining, weighing.

  “My rank is a fraction of a decimal,” I explain. “And I’m pretty sure that fraction is only there because I used my brain quite a bit to problem solve out of Testing Day. I barely survived.”

  Enid shifts her leg and winces. “My Testing Day was horrific. And I only ranked at 28.”

  Not nearly enough to fix this forest alone. Silence falls, and I can hear the chirping of birds somewhere in the distance.

  “Maybe that’s your job,” Enid says. At my questioning look, she pokes at my head. “Brains.”

  I chuckle. “Maybe.” But somehow, I doubt Paragon brought me here to test my intelligence. They want something else from me, something that will save everyone, according to Dr. Cass.