POV Seth
A burst of light. A sound rattled him to the core; a guttural churning combined with violent, deafeningly loud cracks of lightning. He could not pull himself away, forced to endure the all-consuming violence of the elements. But the real world had called to him, and it released him from the terror that swallowed everything.
The curfew bells sounded, marking the end of the day. Seth pushed the disturbing, chaotic imagery from his mind. His heart raced, thudding wildly against his chest. He wept, but couldn’t quite understand why.
He ran his fingers across his chest where, in his dreams, a brilliant shaft had impaled him. Upon inspection, there was nothing but the faded pink mark of where had rubbed at his chest to dull the ache.
The dream fought back, as it always did, desperately calling him into its dark depths. Everything was jumbled. He felt displaced. The cell he was in was unfamiliar and yet familiar. The cell felt like it belonged to a distant memory. For a moment, he remembered and called out. Not with his voice. Not even with his mind, but with a deep resonating pulse through his soul. ‘Come to me.’ His soul called.
The sleep haze faded, leaving Seth confused. He had expected an answer. He expected to feel something push back in reply. Would he even recognize it? ‘Who are you expecting?’ he thought to himself, teasing his dream-self. He rubbed the soreness from his chest.
There is no logic to dream logic.
The door to his cellblock opened. Seth jumped to his feet, hoping that they would release him, desperate to learn that this whole ordeal was a massive misunderstanding. He dared to hope that they had dismissed the person responsible for his misery and he’d never heard of her again.
The frosted glass cleared as the headmaster and sergeant settled into their seats. The headmaster lifted his hand, signaling for Seth to remain silent. A screen blinked into existence onto the cleared glass panel between Seth and his visitors. “We are opening a channel directly to Councilman Daamon,” the headmaster said. “This session has been arranged in advance, and all parties involved are privy to this channel.”
The Councilman? Directly? What was going on?
“Are you receiving us?” The headmaster asked.
“Present June 16th, year of incursion 116, 2100 hours, I, Councilman Dezmond Daamon, have received a live transmission to assess a potential attack on our Nation’s institution.” The man on screen, it couldn’t be…
“Present in Security Station A, former Master Warrant Officer, Headmaster Vincent LaRivière,” the headmaster said.
“Present in Security Station A, current E.M.I. watchman Sergeant Will Noland,” the sergeant said and saluted.
… the man on screen was Seth’s coordinator.
Dezmond spoke, “We are convened to hear the testimony of this student as it pertains to the Championship game that occurred off site, June 10th. Young man, please state your name.”
“Seth Wright,” he barely forced out.
The man on screen was not the warm mentor he was looking forward to speaking with. Dezmond Daamon was an intimidating and imposing figure, swathed in black, with a royal purple sash marking his rank as a Councilman. The man was rigid and cold. Not a trace of warmth touched the grim expression on his face, and the harsh faded gray of the old man’s eyes did nothing to reveal the man’s intent. He was timeless as he was ancient. This was undoubtedly the same man who had helped Seth plan his four years at the Academy, and yet it was not. Was it possible that he had a twin?
Seth chided himself. The man had the same name, the same look, just a flat-out, different aura. Seth felt a conflicting clash of emotions: betrayed, honored, and used.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
The lights flickered on in the Security Station. All parties acknowledged the transmission. Doctor Yan was likely packing her bags, hoping to make a quick escape.
Now that the Council was aware of his situation, could the opposing parties make a move against him? Was he safe? Doubt wiggled in the back of his mind. ‘This whole thing is about something else,’ his subconscious persisted. He felt like the reason for all of this was just outside of his awareness. Like a word on the tip of his tongue.
‘Think facts,’ Seth told himself, but found himself in the realm of assumptions. He assumed that the men had gathered enough of Seth’s initial testimony to arrange a meeting with the Councilman directly. But what about his initial testimony had sparked such a high-level response? He hadn’t pointed out any of the actual threats he faced while in the games.
And Daamon of all people! He was reputed to have a hardline view about the full population’s participation in civil service. He was a war hero. His children were war heroes. Despite being exempt from war duties, they all served, and they all came back alive. Not one of them attended the Academy, and yet they survived. No one was aware of the details why. The odds of survival were slim but to have every single family member, male and female alike, return unharmed was just unheard of and well into the realm of impossible. Public opinion felt that he saw to his children serving in safe outposts. Seth hadn’t thought to check.
‘What if it’s true?’ his subconscious pondered, bubbling up to his conscious awareness. ‘What if they are war heroes? What does that mean?’ The questions emanated from some place deep within. A knowing place.
“I have reviewed the start of Mr. Seth Wright’s testimony earlier today,” the Councilman continued. “I have noted that the Administration at the Council’s Academy has failed to provide the requested supporting documentation within the specified time period being a generous 1800 hours today, two hours past traditional deadlines. I have noted that the Gaming Commission, also referred to as the G.C. has provided game data for review at 1000 hours. Headmaster LaRivière, how do you account for this discrepancy?”
The headmaster rose to speak, his form rigid and at attention. “The people accountable are under review. Their work has been frozen and will be reviewed in full. The people in question are on suspended leave without pay until the assets are retrieved or until their workload is presented as clean. If an unacceptable level of discrepancies is found, we will report our findings to the Minister of Education, and as per your request, we will forward our findings to your office. At this time, Doctor Margaret May is appointed to her role by the Gaming Commission. She has outright refused to provide us with any supporting documentation, claiming that none exists.”
Dezmond wrote a few notes. Literally wrote with pen and ink on actual paper! Seth was taken aback with such wasteful behavior from someone in such a prominent position of power.
“Am I right to interpret that Doctor Margaret May is an employee of the Gaming Commission and not of the Administration?” Dezmond’s words were articulated like a sharp knife poised for a clean cut. He was separating the problem, severing the issue layer by layer to find the tumor.
“That is correct, Sir.”
“Our offices formally request employee records for all Gaming Commission employees who have held positions within the Council’s Academy from the point of inception. Deadline is 1700 hours tomorrow. We wish for all of Doctor Yan’s records from her official start date to present. The Gaming Commission is to include records of her interviews, referrals, proof of qualifications, and appointment to her position. We will acquire the appropriate releases for confidential materials where relevant.”
The Councilman was begging to be flooded in paperwork that was unlikely to help with Seth’s situation. The old politician was looking for something, likely through the Gaming Commission. Too much data was still more data than he had previously. Councilman Daamon was oddly well prepared for his attack.
“Now that the metaphorical paperwork is sorted out…” Dezmond wrapped up a few notes, then looked directly at Seth. “Mr. Wright, please continue where you left off with yesterday’s testimony. Your squad had arrived at a twenty-first century skyscraper. Please note that I will interrupt when I have questions. And I will have questions. You’ll want to rush to certain events that are top of mind, but please continue from where you left off. Sometimes, it’s the details we deem insignificant that are the most relevant.”
This man was his co-ordinator, after all. ‘Sometimes, it’s the details we deem insignificant that are the most relevant’ was something he had said to Seth on a couple of occasions. This time, however, it lacked the warmth of their previous interactions. Those words felt loaded. Not only as a key phrase, but almost like Dezmond wanted him to look in a specific place for information.
Seth stood to recount his story, mirroring the actions of the headmaster.
“Please, sit. All parties know you are currently in isolation on the orders of Doctor Yan. Get comfortable and take the time you need. We have all night and then some.” That was the first comforting thing the Councilman had said that night.
Seth lowered himself to his cot, suddenly very aware of the image he was projecting. He ran his fingers through his hair, but doubted it made much of a difference. He stared at the Councilman for a long moment, mentally adjusting his perspective from speaking to a man of ruling authority to a man who had been tremendously helpful in preparing him for the future.