Barrier

Classification

7.

Three more times was Luis put through his paces, and by the end of it he was little more than a heap of bones on the floor of the training room. The effects of his power had been scrutinised to the tiniest detail, and Luis soon became suspicious. He had all but deduced that he was not expected to succeed in assembling the particles, and he gathered that his endurance was being examined, that it was being determined how far he could be pushed. The inspector frowned musingly, gazing down at his exhausted body. Far from improving his power, each extra attempt had consecutively worsened. He hadn't even managed to dismember the material in his most recent effort. Putting aside this personal failure, Luis was, if possible, even more irate about not knowing what would happen to him next. He didn't know for how long his congenitally indifferent physicality could sustain further barrages.

"Alright, you may leave now," the examiner's voice rang out, dripping with authority.

Luis couldn't even summon the energy to move his jaw in order to formulate speech. He had no idea how she could expect him to return to his room. He doubted she knew nor cared, and was proven right when the woman simply shrugged her shoulders apathetically, and departed, leaving him in solitude. Despite the hard, rough flooring, all the life seeped out of Luis and he slumped to the floor, blissfully unaware, and, more importantly, unconscious.

The same disconcertingly white environment met Luis as he awoke once again in the still unfamiliar bed. Somebody had moved him, he supposed, not knowing how to feel about it. On the one hand, it meant that he was needed in at least semi-functional condition, or else he would have been left in the training room. On the other, it denied him any dignity that he may have had left, and it gave him a distinct lack of privacy. In either event, Luis at least felt mostly recovered. Perhaps the bed had healing properties or something; Luis would have believed anything at this stage. Rising with once more renewed strength, Luis stubbornly changed again out of his issued garments into his own clothes, and proceeded out into the corridor. Not against diversity, he opted for the left hand side as a route-way, and was met with intimidatingly large stainless steel elevator doors, guarded by two equally formidable-looking men.

"Other way, kid," one of them growled menacingly.

Luis could easily have taken apart his gun, or rendered him catatonic, but, having experienced first-hand how things could so quickly spiral beyond control, he thought better of it, and, with a heavy, defeated sigh, trudged back in the direction of the training room. Surely this couldn't be it from now on? His day split into thirds - one spent unconscious, one alone and the other being subjected to what had to be construed as torture at the hands of his solitary companion, who seemingly detested him! What about the other prisoners? He'd heard conversation of others, and, furthermore, what was the point of this facility if he was the first and only superhuman they'd discovered? Luis sincerely hoped he'd find the answers to these questions very soon.

The examination room was empty when he arrived, so Luis began idly manipulating the building materials. Maybe he couldn't build something atom by atom, but Luis thought it was worth an attempt at a similar but much larger project. Locating a humongous sheet of aluminium, he set to work, bending, twisting, sculpting. He wasn't entirely sure himself of exactly what he was hoping to accomplish, but he continued shaping the metal without unnecessary thought. In a matter of minutes, he was faced with a metal tree. It boasted a base of aluminium, copper leaves and flecks of iron interspersed with other materials where they had run thin. He imagined it would be breath-taking in natural light, sunbeams rippling throughout majestically, reflected from the centre and absorbed by branches in exactly the right way so that it was a projection of hope itself and a celebration of the unique and unusual. But, of course, he had no way of really knowing.

"Not bad," a sharp voice interrupted his marvelling.

Luis turned and his momentarily lightened heart sank like a stone. She was back, presumably for more experimentation. Luis took a deep breath, and swallowed.

"What do you want?"

She shook her head.

"I'm not going to play games with you. This isn't a battle, you aren't my equal. There are two ways in which to understand your power, and the other one involves dissection, so I suggest you obey me without complaint."

Luis was stunned and his pride wounded. Some people pretended to appreciate honesty, but Luis, like all humans, yearned for some form of sugar-coating. To be told outright of your limitations and your standing in someone else's eyes was demoralising. Also, he wasn't sure whether she was lying about the dissection or not, but he didn't really want to find out.

"Okay then, what would you like me to do?" he asked, attempting politeness, beaten.

"Better. We will continue where we left off yesterday." she spoke patronisingly.

That was the exact sentence Luis hadn't wanted to hear, but, evidently, he was in no position to argue. He selected a piece of cinder at random from the pile, and pulled it apart. Even having just constructed the metal tree, Luis noticed that he was significantly less tired than he had been yesterday. In spite of this, when prompted, he found he still couldn't put it back together.

"Again," he was ordered.

A chunk of graphite was next deconstructed, and, this time, Luis felt some resistance when he tried to bring it back. For a few seconds, the shadow of the non-metal lump flickered feebly, before dissipating like particles of sand flowing from an hourglass. Luis was absolutely enervated, but nonetheless thrilled with his work. He grinned with mixed pride and relief, and received, most surprisingly, a small, acknowledging smile in return.

"Thank you. You may go now."

Determined to further his success, Luis made the journey back to his sleeping quarters independently and on trembling legs, and sat down on the bed, still beaming like a madman. It was only when he lay down and contemplated recent affairs that an unnerving thought occurred to him. Upon completing his task, Luis had been tired, too tired to think, but he had felt an absurd urge to gain his observer's approval. Luis never sought approval. What was more, he'd been feeling unprecedentedly positive about his new life, as if he should look forward to new challenges appearing on his horizon. He dimly recalled reading about something similar to this in his studies of manipulative psychology. This was a mild brainwashing technique: keep the subject too tired to contemplate events and portray yourself as a role model. Luis would have to be wary of her from now on. He would not succumb to others' wills.