The Intellect

Chapter 6

I shiver at Ryke's words, meant as an offer rather than a threat, and say nothing in response. I focus my gaze on the touchpad by the door that flashes to signal that we've arrived.

This isn't the first time Ryke's advances have changed from playful to serious; once, and only once, he offered to match with me, and sometimes the future he offers is tempting. Ryke has far more influence than I could ever hope to gain. Matching with him is tantalizing; my goal of infiltrating the Civilization to its core might actually be possible with Ryke's sphere of influence. Ryke is also one of the most sought-after matches in the Civilization for reasons beyond his success and influence. To put it frankly, Ryke is hot--long dirty blonde hair, gold eyes, permanent smirk, tattoos and muscles. I'm not oblivious to his charms, but despite the numerous benefits of matching with him, I couldn't live with his arrogance and his secrets, such as the secret behind Jayse's disappearance which he has yet to disclose.

Ryke acts like nothing bothers him; he saunters around with a lazy grin on his face, but I know him better than anyone. Underneath the facade, Ryke is cunning and manipulative. He'll do anything to get what he wants, and he always gets what he wants.

Maybe that's the difference between us. Ryke will do anything, but I have boundaries. I won't match with Ryke just because of what I could get from his position. I don't want to use him just to get what I want like the Civilization. Sometimes I worry, however, that refusing him equals sacrificing my mission.

We step out of the elevator on the training floor and enter the miniature auditorium filled with benches angled toward a plain stage. The Tier 2 graduates are dressed in their finest, a rainbow of colors and crazy styles, and sit in the first five rows of the auditorium. Ryke and I descend the side stairs and join Mizpah and a few of the other instructors on the stage.

Mizpah glares at Ryke and me. "It's about time you two got here."

I'm about to take the blame for our lack of punctuality, but Ryke cuts in with a wink in my direction. "Sorry, Mizpah. We got a little carried away."

I fight to keep my face from turning red at Ryke's insinuation and instead fasten my gaze on the trainees in front of me. I hate how easily he gets under my skin.

Mizpah opens the graduation with a few words on the magnificence of the Civilization that I ignore. I've heard it all before: Ignore your past, embrace the Civilization's future. Using a minipad, Mizpah begins to read off the names of the fifty or so Tier 2 graduates and we all clap in support. This number will drop by at least a third for the next tier of training, so I ignore most of them and only applaud the handful of trainees with real potential.

As each name is announced, the Intellect or Justice walks forward, some of them grinning and others lifting their chins in pride. They walk across the stage and give a shallow bow to Mizpah, Ryke and me. Then, a Technologist scans their choker or armband to increase their clearance from Tier 1 to Tier 2. When all the trainees have graduated, Mizpah steps from the stage and the event is disbanded. Most of the graduates stay behind to chat, most likely lauding each other for how remarkable they are. Their chatter is high-pitched and eager and I almost envy their naivety.

I sigh, remembering how important I felt when I finished Tier 2. I thought I was halfway to my goal of Tier 4 Intellect, but here I am, still at Tier 3 with radically altered goals that no longer align with the Civilization's. As I stand lost in thought, one of the Intellect trainees approaches me.

"Renna, I'm so glad you came," she says with a bright smile.

"Hayl," I say, offering a warm smile to the only trainee I've ever really liked. "Congratulations."

Everything about Hayl screams bold. Her mint colored eyes sparkle,, her head is shaved on both sides with a braided mohawk on the top, and today she's wearing a form-fitting lime green dress that glows against her dark skin.