Season 1, Episode 6 - The Tree Plot IX - "The Other Side of Longing"
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When Clayton awoke, he found himself in a jail cell. His head throbbed in pain; it felt like sharp knives bore into his temples. When he reached up to feel the side of his head, he realized something had been placed over each of his hands - large, metallic gloves. With his vision still blurry, he looked around and could make out featureless concrete walls surrounding the jail cell, with iron bars at the front separating him from the outside world; he felt like he was stuck somewhere deep in the center of the earth.
But even with gloves on his hands, Clayton could still move them, and when he gently touched his temples, he discovers that bandages had been wrapped around his temple wounds. He gingerly touched his face and felt bruises all over; some of them were courtesy of the beating the Academy agents gave him after they captured him in Sebago, while others came during the escape with Eos.
“Eos,” he croaked out, realizing how dry his throat felt. He tried to stand, but the world spun, forcing him to sit back down on the concrete floor. He looked down at the oven mitts covering his hands; he tried to produce his wind power, but nothing interesting happened.
“You like it?” a female voice asked him. As his vision focused, Clayton found a blonde woman in a labcoat looking at him from the other side of the iron bars of his jail cell.
“My Anti-Rddhi Device, Mk 1,” she proclaimed. Clayton could hear a sense of pride in her otherwise amused voice. A sense of arrogance, too - but Clayton couldn’t be bothered with getting worked up about that. He just felt drained. He couldn’t even be bothered to look at the gloves. Instead, he just laid down on the floor.
“Not interested?” the blonde woman said. “Not interested in the power of the Reverse Spiral, the way it cuts off the meridian point in your palm, preventing the flow of Rddhi from your dantian from reaching it?”
Clayton shifted onto his side. A short silence followed, then he heard the sound of a cigarette spark.
“Fair enough,” the blonde woman supposed. She let out a drag; Clayton could hear the sound of her footsteps as she departed down the hall. New footsteps came towards him, two pairs; one was slow and mellow, the other booming and confident.
“My name is Mr. Shokahu,” a voice called out to him. Clayton refused to look.
“Perhaps you’ll be interested in me, then,” another voice called out, this one deeper. “I’m Josiah Stockham, Chairman of this very Academy.”
Clayton gritted his teeth, trying to resist the urge to care since he just wanted to lay down and drift away into an endless sleep rather than face the truth. But his curiosity won out - he slowly sat upright and stared at the two men.
His eyes slightly widened. One of the men was the same user from the battle in Sebago. His eyes looked just as tired as during the fight. In contrast, the Chairman seemed to radiate with energy as he looked at him through the bars.
“Rddhi users are supposed to report when they unlock their powers,” Stockham reminded him, his voice friendly. “But it looks like you’re one of the users that fell through the cracks. And when you fall through the cracks, there's a hard landing waiting for you at the bottom.”
“What’s it matter to you?” Clayton asked. The question came out weaker than he intended. He wanted a hard edge to his voice, but it only carried exhaustion with it.
“Wouldn’t you know it, but you’re exactly of age to attend my Academy,” Stockham said.
“Attend the Academy?” Clayton repeated. This time, fire did rise in his voice; Eos’s lessons provided that fire. “West Narragansett Technical Academy, third-wealthiest institution in New England, seventh-wealthiest in the former United States. Holdings in all industries, investments in Latin American dictatorships and blood diamonds and uranium in Central Africa. Your Academy is part of the reason New England suffers.”
Shokahu’s face remained expressionless. Stockham let out a booming laugh. “Is that so? You certainly know your stuff. Where did you learn all that?” The jovialness remained, but his eyes narrowed. “Was it the girl? The girl who left you to die?”
Clayton’s face trembled for a moment. “You don’t know that,” he said quietly. He tried to convince himself of that.
That grenade on the car, I bet she expected me to shield it with my wind. I should’ve been faster there.
“I know you and the girl are close,” Stockham continued, amusement mixed with firmness in his voice. “Were close, I should say. So let me ask you some questions. Everything you learned - did it come from books she provided? Did it come from lessons she taught? Your life experiences - were they all organized and set-up by her? Have you ever done anything on your own without her involvement-”
“Enough,” Clayton cut in, his voice close to cracking. “How would you even know this, anyway?”
“Just as you did, Eos fell through the cracks,” Stockham said. “And, for a moment in time, she was interested in enrolling in this Academy.”
Clayton kept quiet for a long while.
Stockham picked up the slack. “I had Mr. Shokahu meet with her during our rounds of negotiations. She had quite a criminal record, but we could’ve made ends meet for such a talented user. All the while, we fed her scraps of information to test her character - such as dropping hints about an alleged casino skimmer. Unfortunately, she took the bait - along with the lives of several of my Technical Servicemen. No enrollment for her. A pity, too - it’s always a shame when a teenager has already marked themselves for a life among the criminal element of the country.”
Most of Stockham's words went into one of Clayton’s ears and right out the other. Eos had always rallied about the powers that be in New England - and here she was, entertaining the thought of joining one.
Clayton tried to find answers to cope with that.
“Maybe she was just tricking you guys,” he said hopefully. “Maybe she was using you for information.”
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Stockham rubbed his chin in thought. “Yes, it appears she’s quite good at using people.”
Clayton ignored the barb as Stockham continued. “During one of their meetings, Shokahu informed Eos that he was a teacher. I can truthfully say that he is one of our best, after all. That got Eos’s attention, because she said she was a teacher as well. The only difference was that, while Shokahu teaches whole classrooms, she teaches one person.”
Stockham pointed a large finger at Clayton through the bar. He nodded in realization. He even allowed himself a small smile at the thought of being precious to her.
“Shokahu asked her why she taught you,” Stockham said, his voice building up to a point. “Ah, remind me. How did she answer?”
Shokahu tugged at his scarf; Clayton couldn’t believe that the user that defeated several armed men in a fight could look so uncomfortable. “It was…she taught you just because you were there. It could’ve been anyone.”
Clayton looked at the ground.
“It just happened to be you,” Shokahu concluded with a sigh.
Clayton patted the concrete with his metal glove.
A part of me always thought that she was just using me. I never wanted to admit it. But the same part of me also took a little comfort in another thought - that, if she really was just using me, then it was because she had an interest in me. She wouldn’t have used anyone - just me.
I don’t know anymore.
Clayton laid back down on the concrete.
“We’ll keep you fed and the like for the time being,” Stockham said, bringing the conversation to a close. “As far as we’re aware, you have no murders to your name, and are guilty of little more than being too compliant to a girl who only had her own interests at heart. What do you say to my offer of joining us?”
Clayton sighed. “I don’t care what happens to me. Are you going to use me, too?”
Stockham took a moment before answering.
“Well, sure,” he answered jovially. “But we’ll be honest with you about it.”
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“Thank you so much,” the tall girl - Mackenzie, that was her name - said as she rose from her seat. Her face seemed flush when Clayton shook her hand, and as she exited the Academy's interview room, Clayton slumped in his seat behind the desk. He spun his swivel chair around to gaze out the window behind him; it was midsummer, but storm clouds darkened the horizon. He caught his own reflection and wondered where the time went.
Two years had passed since his recruitment by the Academy. He spent the first year in an accelerated catch-up academic course, and then it was onto the Academy proper as a first-year. He was alright academically, but the Rddhi was where he really shone.
It’s not like it’s anything special, he told himself, feeling bored in that small interview room. I’m not trying to brag, but the Rddhi just comes to me. I don’t even try.
If he cared, then sure, maybe he would try. But life’s easier when you just lean back and watch the clouds go by, not a care in the world.
Clayton never went above and beyond for the Academy, but between his Class 5 ranking and go-with-the-flow attitude, he had somehow proven himself useful for the Academy. Only entering his second year, they had him conducting interviews for new students - it wasn’t like he would say no when asked to do something by Stockham. And it wasn’t like he would purposely do a bad job. He would just do it, because it’s not like he had anything else to do.
“Next,” Clayton called out, amusing himself by swerving slightly in his chair. The next interviewee, the second of the day, came in. He wore a tight suit and his eyes looked focused and dark, as if he was about to run through a wall for somebody.
One of the amusing things about these interviews would be discovering the various backgrounds and personalities of those seeking to attend the Academy. The first interview was a mere formality - that Mackenzie girl was the daughter of the Mayor of Pennacook, an automatic shoo-in. Halfway through, Clayton went off-script, and the two talked about her time in Pennacook - she twiddled her thumbs, her face went red a few times, and she always laughed too hard at his jokes.
Clayton probably could’ve figured out what those reactions really meant, but he wasn’t interested in exploring that line of thinking any further.
But this new guy - one Isaac Spallacio - came from Patuxet, a small town Clayton had never even heard of, somewhere near Acushnet to the south. He had decent grades, but most importantly, had never displayed any Rddhi usage, a big knock against him. Nearly making up for that, though, was his brother’s salary as a researcher at Wampanoag University. This Isaac could certainly afford the dues to attend the Academy as a nonpowered student.
If he could make it in, of course. This interview would actually be important for his enrollment. Clayton’s opinion of him would be important.
Clayton pondered that for a moment, then shrugged. He leaned back in his swivel chair.
Memorization was tough and readying felt amusing, so Clayton read the instructions for the interview. “Welcome to West Narragansett Technical Academy...insert candidate name here?”
Clayton chuckled. It was only his second interview - it would take him some time to avoid reading out parts aloud like that.
As the interview went on, Clayton noticed that Isaac spoke with a sense of clarity and purpose. He felt like Isaac had some sort of mission that drove him that day.
"You say the school supports dreams, right?” Isaac said, his voice full of fire. “I got a pretty big one. I want to make a new world. Wipe the slate clean. I really think we can create a global peace not seen since the Golden Age. I want to return the favor on a national scale, if not global. We can do it! We really can!”
Clayton rubbed his chin. Old feelings long gone rose within him; he covered them with a surface layer of amusement and curiosity.
“How would we?” he asked, genuinely wanting to hear his answer.
As Isaac talked about restoring the old government and uniting the country, memories flooded Clayton - memories of long nights with Eos on the rooftops of rundown buildings, looking at the twelve stars above the city, talking about how they’ll live in a united, peaceful country.
Isaac wants the same thing I once wanted.
A new question rose to Clayton’s mind.
But does he genuinely want it…or has someone steered him in this direction?
Clayton kept asking probing answers, but Isaac did a decent job at defending his positions.
I can’t tell if this is his own genuine belief or not. Maybe it doesn’t matter to me either way.
Clayton covered his inner turmoil by jotting down some notes.
I know Eos was using me. But I don’t know that. I can’t give myself a straight answer. I have dreams where, once the train leaves the intersection, she’ll be standing there, waiting for me on the other side of the tracks. I’ll catch up to her, because she’ll wait for me, and we’ll walk side-by-side.
I’m not sure if Isaac has his own Eos or not. But-
“Well, I think that’s enough,” Clayton said, putting away the half-filled out forms into a briefcase.
If he attends the Academy, maybe he’ll be able to give himself a straight answer some day. Maybe his dream will be genuine, maybe he’ll find a new one, but he’ll know the truth about himself, a truth I can’t find.
“You’re in,” Clayton said, a smile on his face.
Isaac’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m…I’m in?”
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“Clayton…Clayton.”
The sharp voice finally brought Clayton out of his memories. Still half-asleep, he rubbed his head and looked out the train window. Dark landscapes rolled by under the cover of a crescent moon and hundreds of stars.
“We’re here,” Hanai informed him, sitting across from him in their booth in one of the train’s passenger cars. “Welcome to Androscoggin.”