shiver (FEATURED) | ✓

o38

Bernard continues his explanation with smooth vigour. "We believe the nanoparticles serve as a tracking device that cannot be removed. They also have medical abilities, naturally: a lie is never fully believable unless merged with a certain truth. The particles are equipped with the ability to clear out plaque and blood clots and disintegrate them into harmless fragments." Bernard picks up the small vial and looks at the clear liquid in the inside.

Running a hand through my hair, I exchange a look with Julian, and then decline the offer of a slice of bread. "What else does it do?"

The plastic bag makes a gentle crinkling sound as Bernard seals it after having but the vial back in. "We have reason to believe that our new President will soon have technology that will be able to... per say... read minds. How, i don't know, but intelligence tells us that the Scientific Bureau is working on a new project that may have something to do with it."

"Great. Does that mean I'll be able to read Evanna's mind?" Julian grins.

I roll my eyes at them, but a tiny smile surfaces. "Forget about it."

Bernard, however, is less than impressed by our little banter. "It's not a joking matter, Julian." He lets out a long sigh and picks up his spoon to take a mouthful of dinner. I watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, shifting his dark skin up and down. "The particles, much like viruses, are relatively hollow shells, save for their crucial part. The particles contain two sections: an inner and an outer ring, and it has been hypothesised that the government can activate them into the fatal mode."

Oh. An internal, manipulated death. Brilliant. "And... and how would that work?"

"The particles aren't normally designed to be able to cross the blood-brain barrier, to avoid brain damage risks, but the outer ring supposedly contains a serum that increases the polarity of the particle, which allows it to infiltrate the brain, along with a magnetic signal that promotes an influx of the particles at the barrier. The inner ring most likely contains either a strong acid, base, or a highly reactive solution that will, au fond, dissolve or damage the most important sections of the brain enough to kill the host."

Well. At least I can give them credits for coming up with an efficient, with a quiet way of killing.It's ruthless, no doubt, and surely only one slip-up could result with nearly the whole population falling dead on the snow-dusted streets of Tetrahmon.

"I see. So that's the second stage. And the third stage?"

Setting his spoon down and biting into a piece of bread, scattering crumbs over his dull clothing, Bernard chews slowly, answering once he's swallowed. "Nothing's confirmed, but Julian told me about the drone behaviour you'd noticed on your way back from the lab," he says. "They made us believe that the drones were made for scouring the globe, to keep the city safe from anything that lies around it, as though the glass wall isn't enough protection." He dusts his crumbs from his jacket with a few swipes of his large hand. "I assume Jakerrlos will use them for even stricter control over everything that's going on."

Francis sets his water bottle on the table with too much force, and it topples over after a precarious wobble, clanging down against the metal. The boy utters a curse and Julian smirks in mockery at him, before handing me a slice of bread. "Eat."

"I don't need to."

"You do. You've spent seven days in prison. Eat."

"Julian, I mean it," I say, my patience running a bit short at Julian's insistence. "I don't need to. I feel fine as it is. I promise. I don't think my body works quite in the same way as yours does, alright?"

Reluctantly, Julian sets the bread down and turns back to their soup, resulting in a gloomy end to dinner.

▿

The bunks in the Red Hand are, for some reason, more uncomfortable than I remember them being. The springs of my mattress screech as I move in bed, the scratchy blankets tangled about my legs in my constant motion.

I'm struggling with my thoughts on Bernard. Julian's hand hangs inches away from my face: I can smell the faint whiff of bread from their fingers, which twitch occasionally. Julian sleeps with a handgun underneath their pillow. Most people do. I can see its outline through the bars of the top bunk whereupon the thin mattress lies, an embossment within the mattress.

I close my eyes and let out a long breath, folding my hands over my stomach. Bernard is hiding something from me, about what we found at the Laboratory. Something about me. And I want to know what it is.

If I have to make him bleed to get it out of him, then so be it.