Pure Page 8

  “Lenni? Are you all right?”

  I wanted to speak — to confirm what Redge was saying — but my tongue had become too thick. I remembered a long-ago lecture on the necessary restriction of genetic defectives, but it had only been a discussion then, not something that could happen to me. Even though I was pure, Purity could still detain, question, and test me. I could be locked in Detention Block, sent to a work camp, or worse — exiled to the Beyond. They could sterilize me. They could probably even kill me. I shuddered, just thinking about it.

  “Are… are you sure about this?” I looked at Redge, suddenly registering the debt I owed him. He had helped me during the seizure, and now he was here to warn me.

  He nodded grimly.

  “Thanks,” I said in a soft whisper. Thoughts whirled through my head. This was a painful awakening, like being stabbed by a hundred needles.

  A clatter of footsteps from the hall made us all jump.

  “We’d better go,” Redge said with a glance toward the sound.

  Elyle gave me one last worried smile. Redge circled in his chair, his strong arms spinning the wheels easily, just as Doctor Frank burst through the doorway, puffing and red in the face.

  “This is a restricted room!” Doctor Frank frowned at Elyle and Redge. Two more medics followed him into the room. He turned to them. “Didn’t I specify that?”

  He’d known they were here. The idea chilled me. He must have been eavesdropping. Had he heard our whispering?

  “It seems,” came a gravelly voice from the hall, “that I will have to post a guard.”

  The voice was grating. Who was out there?

  Redge, who could see through the open door into the hall, went pale. He glanced meaningfully at me. My chills deepened into goosebumps.

  Doctor Frank’s hands began to skate over each other. “I told them no visitors,” he said to the voice in the hall. His eyes jerked nervously around the room. Everyone else was silent. I held my breath.

  A Purity officer entered the room. I gasped. Rylant. Now I knew where I’d heard that name — at the cafe, when they had come for Redge. Rylant glanced at me. Her shoulders were back, her lips pressed together, but her eyes — they pierced me as if they could see into my soul.

  I gulped.

  This was it. Purity had finally come for me.

  rylant

  Purity was here, ushering Redge and Elyle from the room, getting ready to do their worst. I tried to breathe slowly, to pay attention. If I wanted to defend myself, I’d have to break through the terror that was paralyzing my brain.

  “You can access the Academy through your slate. No need to fall behind on your studies,” Doctor Frank was saying. Although his voice was firm, his hand shook as he handed me back my slate. “But you will not attend classes or leave this facility until testing is complete. A guard will be stationed in the hall. Is that clear?”

  How could Doctor Frank be so caring one minute and so commanding the next? Rylant, who was standing next to him, obviously made him nervous, too — he was scratching repeatedly at the rash on his forehead. But he was also sneakier than I’d expected, listening in on our conversation. Was he Purity’s pawn?

  “Why?” I looked from Doctor Frank to Rylant, trying to keep breathing steadily and acting calmly, even if I was panicking inside.

  “Standard procedure.” Doctor Frank’s voice had a warning tone. “Purity monitors all patients admitted to this unit. Anyone who displays unusual abilities gets tested.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, daring to return Rylant’s cold stare.

  A glance from her blue eyes was like being stabbed by an icicle. She was small, compact — built to survive — and her flat, emotionless face seemed almost inhuman. I bet she’d had emotional inhibitors installed. What would she do to me?

  Doctor Frank sighed and closed his eyes. “Officer Rylant can answer your questions.”

  They want to know if you’re skidge, Redge had said. My chest tightened more. But I’m not, I thought. I’m not skidge. I rubbed the bump on the back of my neck, wishing it were gone.

  Rylant cleared her throat. “We’re testing to determine your DNA inheritance patterns.” Her voice was harsh, husky, heartless.

  Doctor Frank gave me a concerned look that made me even more frightened. Either he was a good actor, or he really did care what happened to me.

  Rylant continued. “We’ve already extracted cells from you and your parents. We’ll be comparing this against your DNA records to determine their accuracy — and your true lineage.”

  “I know who my parents are.” I sounded like a stubborn child. “This is all a mistake. I can’t be skidge.” I pulled the blanket up and held it in knotted fists.

  Rylant gave me a skeptical look.

  “It should only be a day or two,” Doctor Frank said.

  “Until then,” Rylant added, “you’re not permitted to contact your parents or Elyle Brahan.”

  “Why not?” What difference would that make? I was suddenly sweating under my blanket, but I couldn’t give up its thin protection.

  “If you have nothing to hide, then you’ll be free in no time.” Rylant squared her shoulders, her eyes boring into me.

  “This is ridiculous!” I could hardly wait for the DNA tests to come back. Then she would have to admit this was all a mistake and leave me alone. “You’re going to confine me because I might be skidge?”

  “The rights of the majority overrule you.” Rylant began in a lecturing tone, not the slightest bit ruffled by my outburst.

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Maybe not, but the public has a right to an uncontaminated environment. Look, I’m not here to punish you, just to protect the community. Until we know you’re pure, you’ll stay right here.”

  I glared at her, speechless. I was a threat to Dawn? This woman was not only inhumane, she was stupid.

  Rylant put a hand on Doctor Frank’s shoulder. “Now I need to ask this young woman a few questions. Some space, Doctor?”

  A few questions! Was she going to interrogate me?

  Doctor Frank backed against a wall. I was grateful that he didn’t leave the room. He seemed like my only friend at the moment, which wasn’t saying much.

  Rylant opened the door into the hall, and another Purity officer wheeled in a trolley of equipment. There was an oversized helmet, a display screen attached to a small machine, and a camera the size of my hand.

  “What is all this?” I tried not to panic. If Dad had survived an interrogation with Purity, so could I.

  “This helmet,” Rylant lifted it from the trolley with a brisk, professional manner, “scans your brain, beaming images of its activity back to this machine.” She pointed to the one on the trolley. “It’s quite simple, really. Deception requires extra work in certain areas of the brain, so we can determine the truth of your answers by monitoring those areas. The camera will record our interview.”

  It must be some kind of joke, I thought. A truth machine that worked? Dad hadn’t mentioned this, but then I hadn’t asked him much about his interrogation — I was too busy punishing him for not supporting me against Mother. If only I had bothered to asked. If only I hadn’t been so selfish.

  Rylant placed the helmet over my head. It was lighter and smaller than it looked, and it seemed to mold itself creepily to my head. I could hear blood pounding in my ears as it tightened. Rylant lowered a visor over my face. My breath sounded too loud, trapped inside. Through the visor, everything was gray, murky. What if Rylant found out that I’d healed Elyle? What terrible thing would she do then?

  The other officer fiddled with the machine on the trolley then aimed the camera at me. Doctor Frank frowned and scratched at his rash.

  “Start the preliminary scans,” Rylant ordered the officer. He nodded, and soon I heard a faint hum. I didn’t dare move. I felt like an alien. My brain was in prison. My neck began to ache from the position of the helmet. The scans seemed to last forever. I leaned my head against the
back of the bed.

  Finally, the humming stopped, and the officer nodded again to Rylant.

  “Let’s begin.” She turned to me. “You will speak only when directed and reply with honest, concise answers. Is that clear?”

  “Yes.” A tiny speaker in the helmet amplified my voice, and I jumped.

  “Then let’s begin with a test question. Is your name Lenni Hannix?”

  “Yes.”

  I glanced at the machine. Lights on the front panel flashed blue.

  “Good. Now answer this one falsely. Is your name Elyle Brahan?”

  She did want to know about the healing. I tried not to tense up. “Yes.”

  The machine bleeped and blinked red lights. Rylant smiled. I flinched. Could this machine really tell when I was lying?

  “All right. Witnesses saw Elyle Brahan fall. Although we cannot confirm that her fractures were caused by the fall, we have verified that they were made and healed on that same day. Can you tell me how Elyle Brahan’s fractures were healed?”

  “Not really.” It’s a game, I told myself. Just beat the machine.

  Rylant grimaced as the machine bleeped and blinked red. “Answer with yes or no only.”

  I had to tell the exact truth. Did I know how I had done it? I took a chance. “No.”

  The machine was silent; the lights blue. Rylant seemed to accept that answer. I breathed a sign of relief, which echoed too loudly inside the helmet.

  “Did you heal Elyle Brahan’s fractures?”

  How could I avoid this question? If I told the truth she might never let me go. I decided to break the yes-or-no rule. “It’s just something I’ve been learning to do. It has nothing to do with Purity or genetic modification.”

  The machine bleeped and blinked wildly.

  “The tests will reveal your genetic history. Answer the question. Did you heal Elyle Brahan’s fractures?”

  “I don’t know what I did.” I tried again, desperate to avoid answering.

  The machine bleeped again, as if trying to make sense of my words.

  Rylant raised her gravelly voice. “Answer yes or no.”

  No escape.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  The machine was deadly quiet. The cool blue lights made Rylant’s skin ghostly. She beamed, triumphant.

  “And Myrtle Hillsborough — did you heal the sunspots on her hands when you sketched her,” Rylant glanced at her slate, “just over two weeks ago?”

  Her name was Myrtle? And she’d told! She’d told Purity! What should I say?

  Rylant tapped her foot, waiting for an answer.

  “Yes.” I had to admit it.

  Blue lights.

  Doctor Frank, who was sitting on a chair by the door, leaned forward. “Could you duplicate it? Could you heal again?” He waited, his eyes gleaming with hope.

  Rylant forced a thin smile. “This is my interview, Doctor Frank.”

  “Yes, of course.” Doctor Frank’s excitement must have given him the courage to speak up. “But if we could understand how she did it, just think of what we could do!”

  “Doctor…”

  “Lenni, have you tried to control this ability?” He glanced at the others in the room, then put a hand to his head. “My rash. Can you heal it?”

  “What?” So that was what he wanted — to learn how I healed. Couldn’t a doctor heal his own rash? Could I?

  I caught a flicker of the overwhelming power I’d been trying to manage. Who else could have healed Elyle like that — basically bringing her back from death to live again? It was awesome, and terrifying. And I was sure it had caused the seizure and the fever that still clung to me. Then the darkness and the flames that licked my legs. Mur, and how I couldn’t step out of the fire. I hadn’t talked to Mur in so long. Oh, Mur! Where was she now?

  Mur? Are you there? I called out, ignoring Rylant and Doctor Frank.

  Silence. Suddenly, I had to talk to her, just hear her voice, know she was with me, helping me.

  Mur, please?

  The dark burgundy walls of the room seemed closer, tighter than before. The helmet pinched the lump at the back of my neck. Where was Mur? How could she be gone from me when I needed her most?

  Mur? I was frantic to hear her voice.

  Silence.

  Rylant was watching me as if she could read my mind, hear me calling to Mur. Doctor Frank waited with a question mark in his eyes. Could I heal? Not without Mur.

  “No.”

  Blue lights sparkled. The machine was silent, confirming my fears.

  I couldn’t heal. I couldn’t draw. I could do nothing without Mur. For the first time, Mur hadn’t come when I’d called. I was alone. Suddenly, I didn’t care about Purity, or Rylant, anymore. Drawing, connecting, healing — it had all felt so right, so good. Yet I’d gone too far when I’d brought back Elyle. Mur had warned me, but I hadn’t listened. And now she was gone. Where? For how long? Nothing else mattered but Mur. I forced the helmet off my head and tossed it away from me.

  “What are you doing? That’s valuable equipment!” Rylant roared, proving she wasn’t completely without emotion. She retrieved the helmet before it rolled off the bed and tried to shove it back on my head.

  The machine began to bleep erratically. The lights alternated red and blue. I pushed Rylant away. The helmet crashed to the floor. I rolled over and buried my face in the sheets. Someone tried to roll me back. I made myself stiff and heavy.

  “Stop,” Doctor Frank called. “Can’t you see she’s had enough?”

  “I’m not finished.” Rylant’s voice grew louder, more angry.

  “Yes, you are.” I choked back a sob.

  The hands stopped trying to turn me.

  I didn’t care what Rylant said or did. Nothing could be worse than losing Mur. I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to block out the noise of the stupid machine.

  broken

  I couldn’t fight off the panic. I called to Mur, but all was quiet. Where had she gone? For the rest of that day and into the next, my thoughts were a silent, ongoing distress signal. Mur? Hello? Please, Mur? Come back!

  I sat still for hours at a time, terrified that this nightmare would never end. Then I paced the room with a restless, driven energy — eight steps forward, turn, eight steps back. I measured my confinement in agonizing detail. The bed with its metal frame like jail bars. The window that wouldn’t open. The side table, screwed to the floor. The oppressive color of the walls. Medics came to check my condition then left again, giving me a glimpse of the Purity officer stationed in the hall whenever they opened my door. He stood at attention, obeying orders to keep me captive, probably only thinking of what he would do off-shift. I sent transmit after transmit to Jonah at his old Academy address, telling him what was going on, urgent to reach him, but he never answered. He was gone, too.

  I desperately wanted to enjoy the freedom I’d so carelessly taken for granted. Maybe I’d find Mur on familiar ground — at home, the commons, or the Academy. Eventually I picked up my stylus and drew a few cautious lines on my slate. Mur was most often with me when I sketched. Maybe, if I drew, she would come back. Yes! Maybe I could call her that way!

  On the bed, I curled my bare legs underneath me. My feet were fiery coals, even though my hospital robe was too short and breezy. Wishing I had my own clothes instead of this further humiliation, I made a few attempts at finding an image to sketch — Jonah, Elyle, even Mother — but the overhead lights glared off my screen, the intense burgundy walls distracted me, and Rylant’s glittering eyes seemed to stand between me and my slate. I would never get a sketch started. It was true. I couldn’t draw anymore.

  Then anger began to swell within me. Anger at Purity for keeping me here. Anger at myself for pushing Elyle. Anger at Mother for every bossy thing she had ever done. I saw the anger as a living beast — a beast with a wolf’s face, long, rusty-brown hair, and glowing red eyes.

  I had to draw the beast. His thick hair. His bloody muzzle. I sketched a qu
ick outline. Wrong. All wrong. I cleared the screen and tried again. Over and over I tried, but I couldn’t find the flow without Mur.

  I finally threw my slate down on the bed and scrambled to get up, restless again, my anger melting back into despair. My feet ached as they hit the floor and my legs nearly crumpled, but I ignored the persistent heat in my body and the cramps in my tired muscles and began to pace once more.

  Mur was really gone! I couldn’t exist without her. Oh, Mur, will you ever come back?

  I was spiraling down, spinning into a bottomless whirlpool. Heat consumed me, my head still throbbed, and I was exhausted, yet unable to rest. Worst of all was the loneliness. I didn’t want to live without Mur.

  I have to keep busy, I thought dizzily. I have to stop dwelling on Mur.

  But how?

  I could read. My professors had sent reading material and special assignments to the knowledge pilot on my slate. The Curse of the Biotech Revolution. The Techno-Peasant Dilemma. How to Bring Polar Bears Back from Extinction. I’d wanted to erase the texts, but I knew I’d be responsible for them once I returned to the Academy.

  If I returned to the Academy.

  I hurried to the bed and searched for my slate in the rumpled blanket, eventually finding it beside the pillow. I brought the document list on-screen.

  Just then, a transmit icon appeared.

  It must be Jonah, I thought. Finally. He was probably desperate to see me, ready to comfort me.

  The screen blanked, then the hairy face of a sheepdog appeared. His tongue was drooping out of his mouth, a drip of saliva dangling from it.

  Not Jonah. It was only Redge. I was disappointed, but the ridiculous dog face almost made me smile.

  His words appeared. Coming over. You there?

  Did he think I’d be somewhere else?

  I wrote back. How? Guard outside.

  Not for long.

  He couldn’t get past the guard! What was he talking about? I doubted I’d see him, but I smoothed my hair and tucked the burgundy blanket over my legs anyway. Soon enough, the door opened and in rolled Redge. He had his desktop slate open on his lap, and he was wearing a plain shirt and pants. His fingers weren’t bandaged and I could see the deep Blass scars. They looked painful.