March City: Land of the Gifted [Book 1 | Fantasy/Sci-fi | Complete]

Chapter 9: Clandestine Activities

"N-no."

"Well, you will get me some, then. These experiments can't go on if I don't have any ingredients. And you do want to grow stronger?"

"With all my heart, leader."

"Good. Now get in there."

"Olix, are you sure?" whispered one of his companions. The first boy stepped forward and gave the speaker a disdainful backwards look.

"What do you think we're here for? Cheerleading?"

"F-for the greater good."

"Exactly. And think of all the powers we'll gain! The risk is worth it!"

He marched forward into the adjacent room.

"Bute, the Jumper," said the scientist, tapping a finger against her chin. Her sharp eyes ran over the numbers one more time before administering further instructions.

Two teens followed the first boy into the adjacent room, which was decorated the same way as the experiment room, except the walls were reinforced with shock-absorbing polymers and energy-diverting metals and a steel chair stood in the middle instead of a table. Behind reinforced glass panels, Olix allowed himself be strapped in, his hands gripping the handles of the chair so tight his knuckles turned white. He gasped when the teens put the helmet on his head; the protruding sharp probes on the inside pierced his skull, inserting directly into his brain. The metal absorbed his blood, ensuring good immediate contact with tissue.

Olix gritted his teeth, his face turning white. The other two put observation stickers on his chest, wrists and ankles. His breathing had turned shallow, eyes darting from the pensive faces through the glass.

The two finished their handiwork and retreated. The door slid shut.

The scientist met Olix's eyes. With a gulp, he nodded, clenching his jaw.

She typed in the instructions. With a few bleeps, a new bar chart appeared on one of the monitors. The boy's heart trace appeared on the adjacent one, followed by numbers about his heart rate, blood pressure, and other stats. A brain trace appeared on the third monitor.

When the scientist was satisfied everything was in order, she initiated the experiment.

The initial filled bar extracted from Bute the Jumper began to deplete. It dropped by one unit after a few minutes. Sweat poured down Olix's face, but he stared with grim determination ahead, adamant on not showing fear. His comrades watched, anxious.

The scientist typed in more instructions. With a few bleeps, the depletion increased. The boy's heart rate shot up to one hundred and fifty per minute. His blood pressure then skyrocketed, the heart trace and brain trace becoming erratic. Before them, the boy arched his back, his mouth opened in a silent scream. His feet kicked uselessly on the ground. The chair remained bolted to the floor.

The ability bar was beyond halfway now. The boy continued to convulse in silence. A few of the spectators looked away, gnawing at their finger nails. The scientist watched, impassive, as though she were watching a television show. The screen showed his heart rate continuing to increase to almost two hundred. His blood pressure was through the roof. The traces were so wild the screen could barely contain its ups and downs.

A few of the teens looked expectant, excited, but the rest just clutched each other, their faces white as sheets. The scientist stood up when the bar expired, her arms still crossed over her chest. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her hairline.

His shoulders heaving, Olix slowly straightened his back. His hair was matted, shiny with sweat. When he looked up, his eyes shone. A grin stretched from ear to ear.

Without a sound, he vanished from the chair.

A gasp came from the teens as he materialised again beside the chair, smirking. He flickered across the inside of the protected room, marvelling at his own newly-acquired ability. One moment he'd be on the roof, swinging on the reinforced steel. The next moment he'd bounce off the hard glass and somersault across mid-air, only to reappear on the chair again, reclining like a king.

The group behind the scientists whooped and cheered, waving their hands.

The scientist's expression didn't change. Her eyes skimmed the reading on the screen. Her hands flew across the keyboard. Suddenly, she frowned, bending over and peering at some of the readings.

"Damn you..." she muttered. Her fingers continued to dance across the keyboard.

Without warning, Olix vanished.

An explosion of light blinded all of the watching teens. No sound came from the room still. The watchers shielded their faces, yelling in shock. The light continued for a good ten seconds, a violent blend of white and yellow, interspersed with crimson. The scientist stared at the monitor, an exasperated expression on her face. The readings flickered, like a broadcast experiencing interference, and then completely flat-lined.

"No!" shrieked the boy who had last spoken to Olix. "No! Olix!"

"He's gone," said another. "Like the others last week."

"But Olix—!"

"—was a failure," said the scientist in a quiet voice. Tears sprang into the boy's eyes, but she didn't give him a second glance. She studied the readings again and sighed. "He had an energy surge, just like all the others. The transplant is too unstable."

"But it worked for some of us," said one of the boys. "There must be something different in us that wasn't in Olix and the others. That's why our powers didn't surge."

"It hasn't surged yet." She turned to face them. The teens shook. "It is all an eventuality unless there's some way to stabilise the surges. The powers are replicated – your body wasn't biologically created to cope with them."

She sighed again, turning around and facing her readings. She brought up another screen, and then pushed her glasses further up her nose. One side showed all the successful transplants. The other showed all the failures. The lists were almost equally long. There was no discernible pattern between the two cohorts. It was very much a puzzle.

"The research has reached a stagnant point." She was talking to herself at that point. "The surges have no outlet, so they're exploding. I need something to conduct that energy away, or to store it to be discharged safely. Otherwise, the outcome will all be the same..."

"You need something to conduct the energy to disperse it?"

"Yes, something like that," she said, deep in thought. "A superconductor of some sort will do, but the city won't sanction unauthorised use of superconductors and I don't have the resources to produce my own, perhaps..."

"I know something that can help."

She looked up, an eyebrow raised. The speaker had spiky hair all across his head and a nervous disposition.

"I'm listening."

"Th—there's a girl in the city. She can conduct energy."

"Oh?" His words piqued the scientist's interest. She unfolded her arms, tilting her head.

"I—I've seen her do it. In exams. She's able to conduct billions of joules of energy without a scratch. She's ranked third in March City. Maybe she can help your experiment."

"A human superconductor, eh? That's certainly very interesting. Yes, bring her in at the next available opportunity. She may be the key to allowing this experiment to move ahead. I want a look at her."

"Dude," said a girl next to him, her eyes going round at his words. "You can't be talking about...?"

"Yeah," said the spiky-haired boy. "Ari, The Transformer."

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