Drew Karpyshyn - Ascension

When she was younger she had stayed behind in the classroom when the lunch bell rang while the others ran off to the cafeteria. Hendel or Miss Sanders would bring lunch to her and she would eat at her desk in the blessed silence of solitude. But she didn't do that anymore. She was trying to fit in.

Gillian was painfully aware that she was different, and more than anything, she wanted to be normal. But the other kids scared her. They were so quick. So loud. They were always touching. The boys slapped one another on the back or traded punches in the shoulder; sometimes they pushed and shoved each other, laughing loudly at jokes she didn't understand. The girls would lean in close together, cupping a hand to their lips then pressing it against a friend's ear to whisper secrets. They would squeal and giggle, clutching one another's wrist or forearm, or clasping a friend's hand between their own. Other times she saw them braiding each other's hair. She couldn't imagine what that was like; to live in a world where physical contact didn't cause the flesh to erupt with burning fire, or sting with freezing cold.

At least nobody teased her or made fun of her — not to her face, anyway. They mostly avoided her, keeping their distance. Yet Gillian couldn't help but notice their expressions when they looked in her direction— confusion, mistrust, bewilderment. She was some kind of freak, best left alone. But she was trying. Every day she suffered the ordeal of walking across the cafeteria, carrying her tray slowly and carefully to her table in the corner. She hoped it would get easier over time, become more bearable through repetition and routine. So far it hadn't.

Reaching her destination, she sat down in the same chair she sat in every day, with her back against the wall so she could look out over the cafeteria. Then she began to eat with slow, deliberate bites, staring out at the other children with terror and yearning, unable to comprehend their world, yet hoping she could one day be like them.

Nick watched Gillian as she made her way down the central aisle of the cafeteria. As she passed by their table, he let out a sharp, yelping bark, like a dog that had been stepped on. The girl flinched, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him. And, much to his dismay, she didn't drop her tray.

"Ha! Told you!" Seshaun gleefully cackled.

Glumly, Nick handed over his chocolate cake, the forfeiture for losing the bet.

"What's her problem, anyway?" he asked, a general question thrown out to the half-dozen boys assembled at the table.

"She's got like a mental condition or something," one offered. "I heard Hendel talking about it once."

Nick grimaced at the name. He was still mad at Hendel for putting him into lockdown.

"Why is she in our class if she's retarded?" he wanted to know.

"She's not retarded, jack-wad," Seshaun answered. "She's just weird."

"I bet she's not even biotic," Nick continued, staring at her.

She was staring back, though he couldn't actually tell if she was looking at him or someone else in the room.

"She comes to all the training sessions," one of the boys countered.

"Yeah, but she just sits there. She never does any of the exercises."

"That's because she's weirdV Seshaun repeated.

He was pretty sure she was staring at him now. He waved his arm wildly above his head, but it elicited no reaction.

"Waving to your girlfriend?"

Nick replied by flipping Seshaun off, a gesture he had only recently learned.

"Why don't you go over and give her a kiss?" Seshaun taunted him.

"Why don't you lick my nut-sack?"

"Just go sit down and talk to her. See what she does."

"Hendel said nobody's allowed to bother her," one of the others chimed in.

"Screw Hendel," Nick replied automatically, though he did glance back over his shoulder to the front of the cafeteria, where the security chief was sitting with some of the teachers.

"Okay, then," Seshaun pressed him. "Go over there. Talk to her."

Nick looked around the table at the faces of the other boys, grinning eagerly as they waited to see if he'd accept the dare.

"Do it and I'll give your cake back," Seshaun offered, literally sweetening the deal.

Nick hesitated, uncertain. Then his stomach grumbled, making the decision for him. He pushed himself away from the table and jumped to his feet before he could change his mind. He glanced back quickly to make sure Hendel was still busy talking with the other teachers, then ran down the aisle to Gillian's table.

Skidding to a stop, he plopped himself down in the chair across from her. She looked straight at him but didn't say anything. Suddenly he felt awkward and embarrassed.

"Hey," he said.

She didn't reply, but merely kept chewing the food in her mouth. He noticed her plate was still mostly full: a bowl of soup, two sandwiches, an apple, a banana, a piece of vanilla cake, and half a quart of milk.

The amount of food on her plate wasn't unusual— one of the first things the kids learned was that biotics needed to eat more than other people. But Nick couldn't believe the manner in which she was consuming her meal. Every item on her plate had a bite taken out of it, even the cake.

He watched in fascinated disbelief as she took a bite from one of her sandwiches, set it down, chewed her food slowly and deliberately, swallowed, then picked up the second sandwich to repeat the process. After a single bite she moved on to the apple, then the banana, then the cake, then a drink of milk, then the soup, then back to the first sandwich again. She didn't say a word the entire time.

"Why are you eating like that?" he finally asked, bewildered.

"I'm hungry," she replied. Her voice was flat and toneless, leading Nick to believe she hadn't meant it as a joke.

"Nobody eats like that," he told her. When she didn't reply he added, "You're supposed to eat the soup and sandwiches first. Then the fruit. The cake comes last."

She stopped mid-bite, the apple poised halfway between her lips and the table. "When do I drink the milk?" she asked in the same monotone voice.

Nick just shook his head. "You cannot be for real."

The nonanswer seemed to satisfy her, because she resumed eating, holding to the familiar pattern of one bite from each item before moving on.

Turning around, Nick looked back at the table with Seshaun and the others. They were laughing and making obscene gestures at him. He turned back to Gillian; she hadn't seemed to notice.

"How come you never do anything in biotic class?" he asked her.

She looked uncomfortable, but didn't answer.

"Do you even know how? I'm pretty good at bi-otics. I can show you a trick, if you want."

"No," she said simply.

Nick scowled. He felt like there was something going on that he didn't quite understand, like she was making fun of him somehow. Then he got an idea.

"Careful with your milk," he said, a nasty grin spreading across his face. "Looks like it's going to spill."

As the words left his mouth, he reached out with his mind and pushed. The milk toppled over, drenching the sandwiches and slopping over the tray onto the table before running off the edge to spill on Gillian's lap.

And then Nick found himself flying backward.

Jacob Berg, the Academy's mathprofessor, was in the middle of telling a joke about an asari and a volus who walked into a krogan's bar when, out of the corner of his eye, Hendel saw something that was simultaneously incredible and terrifying.

Near the back of the cafeteria, Nick was hurtling across the room. He flew twenty feet through the air before slamming down on one of the tables. The force of the landing launched lunch trays into the air and snapped the table's legs, sending it crashing to the floor. Several students seated at the table screamed in surprise, and then a stunned hush fell over the room as everyone looked to see who was responsible.