The Green Ones

Episode 5, Part 3

Olin glares at me with a raised brow. Finally he prompts Zorrah. “You were saying about the braid banding?”

As Zorrah raises her head, she endeavors to conceal a sly grin. “I did some…research when I was programming One and Two.”

Olin leans in close, and the three of us form a huddle as we creep forward.

“The banding machine works as a scanner too. Our numbers are permanently linked to our identities now. It’s integrated with the Central Identification Processor—the smartest bit of programming in New Teo, other than One and Two of course.” She blushes. “I mean, not that I’m—”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “After what I’ve seen, I believe you. Go on.”

“Well, the moment we were banded, the CIP, I mean the Central Identification Processor, started compiling everything in the system about us.”

Olin interrupts. “How much information could there be?”

“You’d be surprised. Every time you’re scanned or imaged the CIP records it. They’ve even started linking to cable lifts.”

“So what would all that tell them?” I furrow my brows.

Zorrah’s eyes get big. “Habits, patterns, behavior. The picture might be sketchy to begin, but eventually the CIP stitches together a digital projection for each of us.”

Olin nods. “To predict behavior.”

“Exactly.” Zorrah wrings her hands and hunches her shoulders as if invisible government agents are preparing to seize her.

Olin continues. “Now that we’re growing in telekinetic abilities, they want to know what we’re going to do before we do it.”

Zorrah shudders. “Not only that, the CIP functions as the brains of the academy.”

“Heads up.” I break the huddle, pulling Zorrah and Olin to one side of the tunnel. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for the needles.” A series of mechanical arm-locks protrude from both walls of the corridor like ribs. A clump of masazin attendants block the center of the tunnel, ensuring everyone takes a turn getting poked.

“Looks simple enough.” I approach the nearest belt of disposable hypodermics as it feeds through an internal channel in the mechanical arm-lock. “Let’s get this over with so we can hear the rest of your story.”

I watch Zorrah as our turn rapidly approaches. There’s a look of concern about her—something more than a fear of needles. While her computer talk is interesting, I’m dying to know what she’s hiding about the blood tests.

At the last minute I whisper into her ear. “I need to know what you’re not telling me.” Before she can respond, it’s my turn. I move to an open machine and place my arm and shoulder against the padding. Once I push into it, the machine clamps softly over my entire arm. With a sudden rush of air, the padding expands.

I count to three, waiting for the pricks. Before I feel a thing, the machine releases me and rotates to the next set of needles.

Proceeding down the tunnel, still at a creep, I wipe a tiny smear of blood from my arm. On closer examination I identify three puncture marks. In no time, Olin and Zorrah join me. “Besides the blood sample, what were the other two needles for?”

Zorrah shrugs, refusing to look me in the eye. “Shots of some kind.”

I place my hand on her back. “You know you’re gonna have to tell me.”

“I promised the old man I wouldn’t!” She blurts out.

“Ah, now it makes sense.” I nod.

Olin stares at me. “What are you two talking about?”

“The old man shared a piece of the plan with Zorrah and Zorrah only—something about the blood tests.” I respond to Olin while lifting Zorrah’s chin. “Look, I’m not angry with you. But I need to know everything.” She looks me in the eyes, and I continue. “The old man can’t help us in here. It’s just us, and we’ve gotta stick together. That means no secrets.”

As Zorrah ponders my speech, a light appears at the end of the tunnel. Thirty meters distant, the corridor opens into a brightly lit room.

Olin speaks first. “Well, whatever it was it can’t be urgent. We’ve already been stuck.”

I relent, not wanting to push Zorrah too far on a day like today. “Sure, we can talk about it later.”

“The old man said something was wrong with Olin’s blood, something that would disqualify him from the academy.” Zorrah offers the information in a flat voice.

Not knowing how to respond, Olin and I wait for her to continue.

“He said you didn’t know about it—that he discovered it while Olin was unconscious. He didn’t want you to worry.”

“So what did he ask you to do?” I nudge her on, the brightly lit room only meters away.

“I talked to One and Two about altering Olin’s test results, so his blood would seem normal.”

“That makes sense. But what could possibly be wrong with Olin’s—” the obvious hits me. I look at Olin and see the same awareness in his eyes.

He says it first. “The medicine.”

 I repeat it. “The medicine.”

Attempting to block the glare of the increasingly bright light with her hand, Zorrah glances back and forth between us. “What medicine?”

We’ve nearly reached the room at the end of the tunnel. I can’t look away from my brother. “What in the world was in that tiny, leather pouch?”

Before Olin can respond, the tunnel births us with a sudden push. We stumble into the bright lights of a huge subterranean room were a few hundred other registrants have already gathered.