The Wrong Side

Chapter 46

"One more time, Damon. From the top."

"I remember you saying those words last session," I mutter. "And the time before that. Was it the last time? No..."

Venning cracks a smile and hits a button on the computer, resetting the exercise.

The screen shows a page of text, and a finger starts counting down from thirty.

I've been coming to these sessions on a bi-weekly basis ever since I was affected by the serum. Initially, it was mostly diagnostic testing to see if the enhancers had driven me into insanity. Thankfully, my mental condition is still considered sane.

Three... two... One...

The screen goes blank and Venning turns the computer away from me.

"Word count?" He asks.

"Three hundred and seventy-four," I answer promptly, but barely over a whisper.

"Characters including spaces?"

"Eight-thousand, ninety-three."

"Subject in sentence seven?"

"He -- referring to Victor Hugo."

"Word count in sentence one?"

"Twelve; sixty-three characters not including spaces; seventy-five characters including spaces."

Venning raises his eyes from the screen and surveys me quietly. He notes something down on my chart and continues with the questions.

Every session consists of mental puzzles like this one -- testing my memory, problem-solving, reflexes, senses, etcetera. This session is the twenty-fourth one. It's been almost three months now. I took off the blindfold two months ago, around the same time Diane Obarski lost her position and Venning resigned from his job at the Endurance to join a practice in a nearby city.

"Alright," he says, satisfied with my answers. "That's it for today."

"How did I do?" I ask.

"Perfect," he replies. "Not disappointing at all."

Every session the exercises get harder, verifying that the enhancers worked properly. They did. According to Venning, because the version he was affected by is outdated, I'm even smarter than him. It's something I can't wait to test out.

"Come on," he mutters, turning off the system. "I'll drive you home today. I don't have any appointments after this."

I nod and stand up, waiting for him to follow as he finishes.

It's also been almost two months since I moved in with the Irvings. Or Vennings. I've never known how to refer to them.

"Damon," Venning says, "This is our last official session."

"So what does that mean?" I ask

"It's almost September," he answers. "You could go to school, a public one. But, I have a feeling -- no, I know you'd be able to thrive in a college environment. What do you say to that? You could look into applying for next semester or next year--"

"Alright," I say. "I'll look into it."

Venning nods and stands up. "Have you given any thought as to what you want to do?"

I shrug. "Not really, sir."

"Might want to consider looking into the sciences," he suggests as we head out the office. "Medicine, maybe. Or research-"

"I'll look into it," I repeat. "I promise."

He chuckles and claps me on the back. "Alright. I won't push you."