The Intellect

Chapter 3

"You accept our conditions, I presume?" Pris asks, her voice sterile and clipped.

Being allowed to reenter society with Mizpah as our probation officer? I've heard of worse fates. It's not like we have a choice anyways.

"Yes, Civilizer Pris," we both answer in unison.

"Then you will be released immediately. The Enforcers will ensure you receive any necessary medical treatment and are returned to your quarters. If your classmates are curious as to your absence, you may inform them you were being trained for your new duties. Jayse has been expelled."

It suddenly makes sense—we haven't been promoted to trainers because of our qualifications but as a cover up for the time we've spent in interrogation and to keep us under their thumbs. Orrick and the others must have put pressure on the Civilizers to explain our absence, so their excuse is our training. I fight off a grin and feel a surge of confidence.

"That will be all," Pris adds and then exits with Cile, the clicking of her heels echoing down the hallway.

A pair of Enforcers enter and unchain us; my Intellect choker is returned to my neck and Ryke is given his Justice armband. With this token of identity, my life and clearances have been returned to me and maybe even my personhood. I touch the band around my throat, drawing strength from it. I'm a civilian again. But what does that even mean? Do I want to be a civilian after this? Is this choker a symbol of my identity or my slavery?

The Enforcers escort us to the Medical floor at subzero one, and I find the strength to trudge forward on my own two feet. Even though I've barely moved for days, every muscle feels spent and exhaustion aches through my bones. The Medical floor is pristine and sterile, all white-washed walls and stainless steel tools. The Enforcers take Ryke and I into two separate rooms where I sag onto the metal gurney waiting for me.

A Medical Intellect in a white coat enters, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck and a minipad in his hand. He eyes me clinically for a moment and then taps the minipad, inputting some sort of information about me. Female, five feet four inches, peak physical condition, Tier 2 clearance. To the Civilization, that's all I am. Another cog in the machine. I don't know how I never saw this before.

The Medical orders me to remove my clothing which is already filthy and torn from days of torture. I strip to my underwear and toss the clothes onto the floor, leaving behind every trace of this interrogation. I return to the gurney, shivering as the cold metal touches the backs of my thighs.

The Medical Intellect begins to examine me, his hands cold and clinical as they explore my body. I wonder how many Medicals know about these interrogations. How many other people have been sent in here after an interrogation to be patched up and sent back to the real world? How many people are keeping the Civilization's secrets? He listens to my heartbeat, runs his hands over my ribs to see how malnourished I am, and checks for broken bones or torn muscles. As his hands probe over me, I try to use my alerted senses to gather my bearings.

"Excuse me, what day is it?" I finally ask, my voice still weak.

The Medical's facial expression does not vary as he answers, "4th quarter, day 85."

Six days. I've been locked up and interrogated for six days. No wonder I'm weak from malnourishment and dehydration. This means that Jayse has been gone for over a week. I've lost someone who I thought was one of my closest friends, the person who was supposed to love or at least like me. A discord in my mind tells me that I should be sad or depressed, but I'm not—I'm furious. Jayse knows that I've always been curious about what's outside the Civilization; that's why I've been so anxious to see the Curator. I want, need, to know what's out there. And Jayse, my boyfriend, my match, has left me behind for the unknown.