For centuries, at Assessment, humans have been divided into one of five categories: Sensors - for whom one or multiple senses are enhanced, Shifters - who are able to manipulate their own matter in order to adjust temperature or size, Intellects - able to rationalize and invent with unparalleled ingenuity, Somatics - for whom a single physical trait is exemplary, and the Deathless - whose ability to heal grants them near eternal life. Since this system was established by the First World Council, it has never failed to accurately categorize an individual. Last Tuesday, for the first time in history, after rigorous physical and thorough mental evaluation, the Council discovered a child who defies this system. For that reason, they have chosen to add a sixth category. Powerless. – Aletha Davis, 726 Anno Imperii Ortu
As the alarm clock screams, ripping me from a peaceful sleep, I roll to my side and pull the pillow over my head. I have no delusions that the fabric and feathers will silence the banshee’s cry, yet I hide nonetheless. With a groan, I finally accept the inevitability of the beginning of the day. One last desperate plea to the powers that be to turn back the hands of the time goes unheard and I emerge from my cave of silk.
As I rise, I drop my hand on the button of the clock. I have made it a habit to refuse to grant myself the respite of silence until I stand. Tardiness is not an option – so this is my best recourse. When I move my hand, I wince as I notice the time. Stifling back the burning anger, I shake my head. It isn’t fair that I need the extra commute time, but I can’t allow myself to wallow.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I feel my hand closing into a fist and flying toward the wall. The moment it makes contact, I withdraw and shake it violently. Punching walls always seems like it’s going to be cathartic before the pain sets in.
I silently scold myself as I exhale through clenched teeth, willing the pain to subside. I need to stay composed. I can’t show mental weakness to accompany the physical.
On wobbly legs, I trudge toward the door. The world seems to move so slowly around me, taunting me with my inability to effectively move through it. When I finally reach the door, I drop my head against the frame. Most mornings aren’t so bad, but waking up from dreams always has a way of draining my will. Despite my best efforts, I have failed to find a way to kill the lingering hope in my subconscious that I’ve been wrong my entire life.
Wiping my mind clean, I take a deep breath and stand tall. I have to convince my mom she has no cause for concern. I don’t want her pity today. As I pull open my door, I can already hear her pouring a bowl of cereal for me in the kitchen. Just knowing how much she cares is enough to pull the corners of my mouth up in a more real smile than the fabricated one behind which I hid.
“Good morning,” she calls in a singsong voice. Before I can bring myself to respond, she meets me in the middle of the kitchen and presses her lips against my forehead. Silently, I begin counting the good things in my life. I have a great family, the best of friends, and I’m technically a Class I. My crippling normalcy is almost completely overshadowed as my coping mechanism takes effect and I pull away.
“Good morning, Mom,” I reply. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” she shrugs as I sit at the table and begin stabbing at the dry flakes with a spoon. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” I respond absentmindedly. I appreciate her attempt to make conversation, but I’m not entirely sure how to respond. I definitely don’t want to go into details of my dreams and give her the impression that I’m not satisfied with who I am.
“Well, then maybe today you’ll beat them,” she winks, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table.
“What?” I ask through a mouthful of moistened granola.
“You think I can’t read you? I know school is always tough, but I can tell when you’re particularly distressed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I deflect, cautiously navigating the line of avoiding further discussion and appearing defensive. As well-intentioned as she is, my mother still doesn’t seem to be able to grasp the concept of tact. The last thing I want to think about is Recruitment.
“You know you’re special, right Car?”
“That’s one way to describe it,” I mutter without thinking. I bite my tongue, but the words have already escaped. My family has always had a way of breaking down my defenses.
“Come on, how many people do you know like yourself?”
“Special and defective are different things,” I explain. Now that the floodgates have opened, there is no sense in trying to close them again. She will continue to pry until she thinks I’m okay, so I may as well save the energy it takes to pretend.
“Stop it,” she scolds, standing up and furrowing her brow.
“I’m sorry Mom. I don’t mean to complain. Maybe you’re right, maybe I’ll win.”
“That’s the spirit!” She cheers, slapping a palm against the counter. Swirling the last few pieces of cereal around in a pool of milk, I try to decide whether my hunger or churning stomach will decide my action.
“Maybe I inherited your power after all,” I sigh, pushing my chair back and stepping away from the table.
“Carson!” She grabs my wrist as I try to walk away. Somehow, I am always surprised that my mumbling is not quite as quiet as I expect it to be. I don’t want her to think I’m ungrateful, and I don’t want her to feel at fault. It was a recessive gene she and my father shared which made me the way I am, but she couldn’t have known that. “I see you, Carson.”
“I know.” With a nod, I slide my hand free and retreat to the bathroom. Behind the closed door, I strip down and step into the shower. I don’t have time to dwell on the memories if I want to make it to school on time, so I try to focus on the present. Nonetheless, as the warm water falls over my body, I can practically feel the disappointed gazes of the Council and my parents watching me fail. The shame is just as real as it had been then. I see my younger self stumbling through the race and struggling to lift weights – jumping and failing to fly. As hard as they had pushed me, my body refused to display any semblance of ability. I am powerless.
I hear multiple voices echoing from the kitchen, and panic sets in. Quickly, I turn off the shower and wipe myself down with a towel. How had I lost track of time so easily? My dad and Ashley had joined my mother in the kitchen, and neither of them were the type to wake long before necessary. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I step in the hallway, rushing toward my room.
“Car? You’re still here?” Ashley notices. “You’re going to be late!”
“What? No, I’m…” I start to argue. I realize that I have no idea what time it is. Rather than debating with her, I turn my eyes toward the clock in the hall. Without another word, I run to my room and sloppily pull clothes over my damp body. Tightening a watch around my wrist, I stumble back into the hallway.
“I’m sorry, I have to run,” I inform my family. Even if I could sprint the three miles to school, I know I have no hope of making it on time.
“Just let me give you a lift,” Ashley offers. Her face lights up as if she’s excited to hold this over me. Shaking my head, I turn and walk toward the door.
“Thanks, Ash, but I’d really prefer to walk.”
“You’ll be late. Look, I’ll take you around the back so no one has to know your little sister is taking you to school.”
“They’ll see us on the way!”
“I… can’t entirely mitigate that risk. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”
I want to argue, but it wouldn’t be the first time my tardiness has caused problems. Glancing down at my watch, I run some calculations in my mind. I have ten minutes to run three miles. That would be a simple task for any Somatics. For me, though, it is a matter of how late I am. Gritting my teeth, I drop my eyes and nod solemnly, walking toward the door.
“Yay!” She cheers, far too eager. I can’t help but wonder if she enjoys making a fool of me. “It’s bonding time, Car. I never get to hang out with you.”
“These circumstances aren’t exactly ideal,” I argue.
“That’s what makes it an adventure.”
“Okay, okay,” my dad interjects. “That’s nice of you, Ashley, but you won’t be quite as fast with your brother. You two should probably leave soon.”
“Good point,” she chirps, rushing toward the door. I wonder if all fifteen-year olds are so chipper or if my sister is the universe’s way of balancing me out.
Questioning my decision, I follow her outside. I am almost ready to accept the penalties for being tardy, but the joy on her face stops me from telling her.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Are you ready?” She asks.
“No,” I admit under my breath. Searching for a way out that won’t offend her, I ask, “Are you sure you can lift me?”
“You’re not that heavy. Anyway, it’s easier after we take off.”
“Right,” I sigh, watching my only escape route fade. Ashley steps toward me, apparently unwilling to wait any longer, and slips one arm under my knees. Lifting me from my feet, she cradles me like an infant in her arms.
“Wow, you’re heavy,” she complains. The last time she had carried me, we were in grade school. Two years wasn’t quite as drastic a difference then. Now, she is a foot shorter than I am and probably weighs fifty pounds less.
“I can walk, it’s okay,” I suggest, concealing the desperation in my tone with compassion. This is my last chance to escape with some shred of dignity.
“No, I’ll be fine, I just need to…” She punctuates her sentences with a grunt as she jumps a few inches from the ground. Hovering, she seems far more capable of holding me. The higher she climbs, the more the exertion fades from her face. Looking down, I see that I can no longer manage an escape which does not result in my death.
In spite of my humiliating position, I can’t help but feel impressed with my sister. She used to barely fly faster than I could run while carrying me, but she is far more powerful now. Though she is classified as a Class IV, her power leaves me in awe. Buildings blur beneath us as we speed up, soaring over the city below.
I feel my face grow warm with embarrassment when she flies past a group of other students. I try to hide my face – hoping to avoid damaging the small reputation I do have - but I have no question that they all know exactly who I am. Ashley’s brow furrows as she leans forward and I feel my stomach churn with a sudden acceleration. She picks up more speed, leaving our judgmental peers in the dust.
“Ash,” I whisper, trying to get her attention. A bead of sweat forms on her forehead, and I finally realize that she isn’t simply getting stronger with age. She’s training. For a brief moment, I am overwhelmed with admiration for my sister. As she continues to accelerate, nausea takes the place of any other feeling. I tighten my core, hoping I can keep the food down with sheer force. A feeling growing in my throat confirms that my ill-advised plan is doomed to fail, but Ashley suddenly slows down drastically.
Finally, she plants her feet in the dirt behind the school. Exhausted, she falls forward and drops me. Covering my face, I roll away from her. When I stop moving, I lie in place and fight the urge to vomit.
“I’m sorry!” Ashley pants, racing toward me. She falls to her knees and rubs my back soothingly. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t apologize,” I cough, smiling despite the situation. The smile transforms into laughter, which doesn’t do much to help the sickness welling in my stomach.
“What’s so funny?”
“I love you,” I struggle to say through the coughs. Rolling onto my back, I feel my stomach finally begin to settle. The world is still spinning, but at least I’m going to keep my breakfast down.
“You’re not mad?”
“How could I be mad? That was great. Quite the adventure.” Leaning back on my hands, I stumble into a seated position. Dizziness almost overtakes me, but I’m able to stabilize myself and look into the sky. Matching my position, Ashley turns around and sits beside me. I turn to ask, “When did you get so fast?”
“I knew you wouldn’t want to be seen, so I tried to get so fast that you wouldn’t have to. I miss going to school with you.”
“We were kids,” I sigh. “Aside from being in high school now, I was a lot easier to lift.”
“I can’t deny that,” she laughs. Her joy is almost enough to make me glad I had been late. Being carried to school by my little sister is mortifying, but I never realized that finding my own way to school hurt her so much.
“I’ll, uh… I’ll give you a minute. Then I’ll fly around to the front,” she offers somberly as her laughter dies down.
“No,” I shake my head. Standing to my feet, I brush the dirt from my pants. When I offer her my hand, her eyes light up once again. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Really?”
“I’m not embarrassed of you, Ash. I mean, I can’t say it’s my idea of fun to be carried to school, but I was never ashamed of you. Come on.”
“Okay,” she cheers. I am blown away by how one act of decency can brighten my sister’s day so much. It’s almost enough to make me forget about the difficulty of being surrounded by powered people. As we turn the corner, I see the landing zone for the Fliers – most of whom didn’t bother to slow down before landing. The school had designated the area for them to avoid damaging grass, buildings, or other students. Behind me, I hear the unmistakable bursts of wind as Runners dash by. Intellects ride toward the building on hoverboards or other hand-made vehicles, and I can see Brawns in the distance leaping over buildings. Trying to stifle my jealousy, I avoid looking around and coveting their powers too much.
A group of Class II and III students pesters the Vs as they arrive. I don’t want to get involved. There isn’t much I can do anyway. When I hear Rhett’s voice, I know I don’t have another option.
“Sorry, Ash, I have to fix this,” I mutter, trying to think of a plan as I turn from her.
“Let me help,” she offers. I don’t want to risk putting her in danger, but I can’t deny that I could use the assistance. I have nothing to offer besides notoriety in a fight.
“Stay back,” I tell her. “I’ll give you a signal.”
“Yes sir!” She teases, standing at attention with a salute. Mustering feigned confidence, I puff out my chest a bit and stand taller as I push my way through the crowd.
“What’s going on here?” I angrily demand. Though the Class IIs are younger and smaller than me, they clearly aren’t intimidated. A few hundred feet away, a Runner holds Rhett’s bag and sneers tauntingly at us. At the slightest hint of movement, I know he will run. The other two share Rhett’s category, but they refuse to allow him to forget that they belong to a higher tier. As a Class V Shifter, Rhett finds himself on the receiving end of far too much bullying.
“Oh, look, it’s the Powerless,” Leo – a bulky Class II Shifter – taunts. His power is to change his own shape and size at will, so I’ve always wondered why he chose such a hefty form for his main appearance. It seems like he could just fabricate abs.
Wyatt, Leo’s partner in crime and another Class II Shifter, laughs as if calling me Powerless is a novel joke. The sound is gravelly and hoarse, as his flesh is composed almost entirely of stone. As he folds his arms, the stone shifts to skin.
“It’s the Class I,” I correct with simulated confidence. Technically, as the only Powerless, I also hold the status of Class I. I know my opponents are quite aware that this title means nothing in terms of fighting power, but it does grant me a certain status within the community. I’m hoping that’s enough to convince them to back down.
“A Class I Powerless,” Wyatt laughs, clearly not taking the bait. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Cross me and see how bad those chances are,” I growl, stepping toward him and glaring down at him. I tense the muscles in my arms and scowl. Wyatt hesitates, and the Runner looks toward us inquisitively. I think this is going to work, as long as I hold my ground.
Wyatt’s face begins shimmering as his dark skin lightens to a silver tone and becomes reflective. I squint against the glare emanating from his metallic cheek, but I am careful not to show my fear. If it comes to a fight, I will be punched by a hunk of solid steel.
Leaning back, I lighten my expression. Subtly, I nod my head, using that motion to lead into an innocuous, overconfident laugh. A blur of light passes by my peripheral vision as I crack my neck and smirk at the bullies.
“Hey!” The Runner, probably a freshman judging by his cracking prepubescent voice, screams. I hear two feet plant themselves firmly on the ground behind me. Cautiously, I take a step back to put distance between Wyatt and myself. Looking over my shoulder, I see Ashley give Rhett his bag back.
“You think we’re scared of a Flier?” Leo asks with annoyance. Clearly, he’s upset to see his game of picking on the weak being brought to an end. I can see that he’s trying to distract me, because I had used the same tactic on him. I hold my fist out to my side, intercepting the Runner’s obvious path as he rushes toward Rhett to reclaim his prize. With his speed, the impact is almost enough to knock me over. My arm hurts, but I hold my ground and avoid wincing as the Runner falls backward, doubling over and clutching his gut.
“Thanks,” I tell Ashley. “I think we’re done here.”
I nod toward Wyatt and hope she notices my cues. As if accepting my statement at face value, she shrugs and soars away. Turning my attention back toward the Shifters, I smirk confidently. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to fight above your class?”
“Don’t act cocky because your little sister came to save you,” Wyatt spits.
“Right, because three against one really made you out to be a big man.”
“I’ll show you how big I am!”
“What?” I laugh. Insulting his word choice clearly has an effect, and I start to worry that Ashley didn’t understand my order.
“Let’s go!”
“Frankly, I don’t plan on punching steel,” I admit. My confidence in my sister is restored when I see her plunging from the sky. Dropping behind Wyatt, she grips him in a full nelson. Given the fact that Wyatt likely weighs half a ton, Ashley isn’t going to be able to lift him – but Wyatt doesn’t have to know that. “Tell me, how far do you think metal can fall before it breaks?”
“You’re insane!” Wyatt stutters. “We were just teasing him.”
“You messed with the wrong person. Never get in the way of a Class I.”
I see Leo take a step forward so I threateningly hold a hand toward him. “Take another step and she takes off.”
Cautiously, Leo raises his hands into the air and backs away.
“You’re just hiding behind your sister again!” Wyatt snaps desperately.
“Yeah, well, maybe my power is delegation,” I shrug. Turning and walking away, I instruct Ashley, “Make sure he doesn’t die. We wouldn’t want to go to prison.”
“Stop!” Wyatt begs, tears apparent in his voice. “Stop, stop, stop.”
Looking back, I nod toward Ashley. She releases him and steps back, relief flooding her face. I wonder if she thought I actually expected her to lift and drop him. As Ashley rejoins Rhett and me, Wyatt curls up in a ball on the ground. Leo hesitantly walks toward him, clearly unwilling to take another step closer to me. He coaxes his friend to his feet and the two retreat. My pounding heart begins to slow down as I finally allow myself to accept the fact that we had won.
“Thanks, guys,” Rhett says with a sigh. Ashely rushes forward and embraces me, clearly excited to have been of assistance.
“Okay, okay,” I tell her, pushing her back. “Thanks, Ash. You were amazing. And Rhett, you know I’ll always be there for you.”
“I do,” Rhett agrees. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t always be grateful.”
I smile as the three of us walk toward the school. Most of the other students are already inside. I check my watch to see that we only have about a minute before school starts. I may be late anyway. Regardless, I feel good. It is probably the high from our victory, but I’m not dreading the humiliating defeat awaiting me in PE. For the first time in a long time, I’m not even jealous of the powered people flaunting their gifts. Today is off to a great start.