After the interrogation- sorry, interview- was finished, Mary switched back out for Connor who took me to the closest dining hall. For needing to feed a couple hundred people, the food was pretty good. Not nice restaurant-good, but more like a pretty decent food truck-good. While we ate, I was told that procedure dictated that I needed to undergo a full physical and mental evaluation. Afterwards, there would be a lot of paperwork to fill out which would amount to settling outstanding circumstances and getting me set up with the various systems used by SEYA.
Once we had cleaned up, I was taken to a nearby facility where I was put through the worst hour I had experienced over the past year- including the entirety of the Breach. Look, I just really hate being forced to exercise. Even with all of the benefits granted by my perks, my mile time was over ten minutes and left me feeling like I was dying, I could do like ten pushups and three times that many sit ups, and all of the weight tests were done after the lowest few settings. On the other hand, I nearly aced all the sensory and reaction tests. My favorite part was the vision test where I played along until it was time for me to actually do it before I told the person administering it that I was blind.
After I reiterated that a few times and refused to do the test, they ran out to retrieve Connor. He also told them that I was blind- but added that I could see using advanced manasight, clearing up their questions about how I had done everything else without issue. I was brought down a peg when they had me explain the details of how my sight works for their records, but I left out the whole seeing through walls thing and may have undersold the ranges a bit.
After all of that was done, I was told that the test from my blood had come back earlier that day. Much like I expected, no diseases or conditions were detected. I was also told that my average energy output was 0.761 MJ/mL.
With a little confusion, I asked, “What does that mean? Is it bad?”
Doing their best to sound professional, the doctor replied, “Ahh, no. Well… kinda. The simplest way to measure how much ULE an MG has within them is by taking a milliliter sample of blood, passing a current through it, and measuring the output over a period of an hour. The inherently random nature of ULE makes the long testing period necessary to determine a useful average output. Most new MGs have an average around 0.85 MJ/mL and most experienced MGs are around 1.0.
“Your measurement of 0.76 is definitely on the low end, but as you get more used to being an MG it will naturally increase. Being 5’7” and a little under 120 lbs, you are slightly below average in size, which means you have less blood- and therefore less volume to store ULE. You can’t really do anything about your size, but you should still have plenty of juice to mess around with- but you might run out sooner than those around you.
“In simpler terms, experienced MGs are walking around with the equivalent of 5000 sticks of dynamite, while you only have somewhere around three-and-a-half-k. Still a ridiculous amount, but less ridiculous than normal.”
With that taken care of, I was once again whisked away, this time to the main administrative office. Once Connor had spoken with the person at the welcome desk, we were quickly taken to a nice waiting room. After a few more minutes, someone in a nice suit came in with a tablet and a stack of papers. They briefly explained that their team had been chosen to assist me in getting settled before they started firing off questions much like Mary had.
It was mostly simple stuff like what college I was enrolled in, where I had previously been staying and if any rent was due, important medical history, outstanding debts, potential threats to myself and my family, what my family did and where they worked, and on, and on. After they were done, I took the opportunity to ask why some of that stuff was important. Apparently, all MGs had all outstanding financial and personal threats dealt with so people wouldn’t have leverage over them. This included subtle security for family members- which would likely mean my parent’s existing security teams would get some new hires. In addition, an MG’s medical and financial history was considered confidential. As a final cherry on top, I would be considered to have passed any class I signed up for at either my college or the small school they had here.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The whole process would take a week or more to complete- and at my insistence it would be done quietly. I still hadn’t told my parents what had happened, and didn’t plan to tell them the truth. I had already done some googling and planned to call them at three- when it would be midnight where they were- and leave a message that I had taken an opportunity offered by one of my professors to travel to the west coast, making sure to add that the remaining few days I was scheduled to stay at the now ruined hospital-resort had been deemed unnecessary. They would have a panic attack if they learned I had nearly died half a dozen times while escaping the Breach I had become an MG in- even if I left out the now-kinda-blind-thing. They didn’t need the extra stress.
With that done, I was given an ID card that would work on most doors and dropped off at the dorms with a promise that there would be a welcome ceremony or something tomorrow. Given how closely I had been guided around, just being dropped in front of a building and told that I could ask the front desk for my room number was jarring. The building itself was one of the nice looking brick ones- five stories tall and having a decently sized footprint. At some point in my life I heard that there were between 7,500 and 75,000 MGs worldwide at any given time, about 0.000825%* of the population- though not dependent on it. Most worked solo or in small groups and focused on a few cities, but there were a good amount that worked for larger groups like SEYA. From the size of the building, it could comfortably house maybe 200 people in their own apartments- which is what I expected the living arrangements were given the supposed size of the subsidies paid out to MGs by the government. I doubted this was the only apartment complex for MGs given the size of the overall facility, so I’d put the total number of MGs that were part of this group at around 1,000.
When I finally entered the building, I found that the interior was just as nice as I expected. A few people around my age were lounging in a… lounge off to the left. They were having a conversation at a polite pubic volume- just low enough I couldn’t make anything out- which briefly paused as I came in. Not wanting to draw attention, I made my way to the right and started the process of getting my room, conveniently handled by swiping my card at a kiosk which displayed my name, “please wait” in the section labeled room number, and that I had no packages waiting for me.
I strained to hear the conversation as I stood there, but to no avail. Less than a minute later, the conversation petered out again as one of the group looked over at me more intently. I tried to pretend it wasn’t making me uncomfortable until they stood up and loudly said, “I was right!”
This startled me into turning around where I saw all of the others looking at the person who had spoken. A little quieter, but still clearly audible, they continued, “that girl is a new MG,” gesturing at me.
“That’s so much less likely than them being a helper for someone. And it’s not our business,” one of the others argued.
“That’s exactly what’s going on! It is kinda our problem, but we just don’t feel like it is. Additionally, if they were a helper either of you two,” they said while pointing out two of the group, “would have gone over and offered to help. But you didn’t because you felt like they knew what they were doing and didn’t need help!”
“And how can you be so sure?”
“Some particularly nasty demons made it necessary for me to pick up a mind-stabilizing perk a while back, which, coincidentally, just turned itself on.”
Standing up as well, one of the people who had been pointed out finally said, “instead of standing here yelling about this, why don’t we just ask?” Before they waved to me and started to walk over.