Zachary Rawlins - The Academy

“The Ether, Alex,” Vivik said, gripping Alex’s desk, “that’s what the Ether is. It’s what holds the universes apart. It’s the barrier that keeps the colder subverse below and the more energetic superverse above separate from our own.”

“Or so he says,” Anastasia offered primly from where she sat, one seat over from Emily. “Vivik is very persuasive, but he can’t prove any of this. Besides, subverse is a made-up word.”

“True,” Vivik allowed reluctantly. “But, the majority of the theoreticians at the Academy subscribe to this notion.”

“And before that, they were always talking about entropic energy and waste heat accumulation and alternating frequency vibration,” Anastasia said, rolling her eyes. “Go ahead and tell Alex the truth. Nobody knows what the Ether is. We live right next to it, but we understand it about as well as you understand, say, geometry. That is to say, we know it exists, and that is about it.”

Alex nodded slowly, and when he spoke again, he sounded almost hopeful.

“Then it’s like everything else with science. Lots of rules, but nobody understands it. Right?”

“Exactly,” Anastasia said, grinning.

“Not at all,” Vivik protested, flustered.

“I don’t think either of you is helping Alex catch up very much,” Emily said disapprovingly. “I’m not even sure if you’re trying, or if you just like arguing with each other.”

“Our universe is like a drop of water suspended in oil,” Eerie said quietly, surprising Alex, who had not noticed that the girl was still there in the classroom. She wilted when everyone turned toward her, looking down at her desk and clearly regretting saying anything. When she spoke again, Alex could barely hear her. “You know what I mean, don’t you? The universes are the drops of water, and the Ether is like, well, the oil? Does that make sense?”

Eerie looked over at him hopefully, while Anastasia appeared to laugh quietly behind the hand that discretely covered her mouth.

“Is this going to be on a test of some kind?” Alex asked despairingly, clutching his head in his hands.

Emily laughed and patted him on the back comfortingly.

“Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly. “It’s not like you can fail homeroom, no matter how bad you do.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“Evaluation,” Anastasia said, working her nails over with an emery board. “To gauge our interests, our aptitude, and most importantly, our sanity and durability. They throw everything at us, not because we need to know it, but because knowing it might help us not turn into lunatics. Where do you think Eerie learned about knitting, anyway? They do it for the same reason that everyone has to go see Rebecca once a month — because as badly as Central needs us, they are even more frightened of us.”

“Why?”

“Because of people like you,” Anastasia said, shrugging. “Unpredictable students with combat-grade protocols that exceed their own ability to control or understand them. At best, you are a wild card. At worse, you’re a threat to everybody around you.”

“Some days I really hate you,” Alex said, putting his head back down on the desk. “Does everybody go to see Rebecca?”

“Everyone except for her,” Emily said, pointing at Anastasia. “But, nobody goes as often as you do, Alex.”

“Why don’t you have to go?”

Alex seemed more impressed by this than by anything else he had learned about Anastasia. She held up her nails to the light, inspecting them critically.

“Because they are even more afraid of me than they are of you,” Anastasia said, without a trace of modesty or sarcasm. “Furthermore, I simply don’t want to.”

Mitsuru was battering a heavy bag when Rebecca came into the staff gym. There was no way for anyone to mistake what was going on for a workout. Mitsuru had left bloody knuckle marks all over the leather of the bag.

Rebecca suppressed a sigh at her friend’s self-centered display of melodrama, and went to go pay her the attention she obviously needed. It was why she’d come to the gym, after all.

Like hell she was doing the stupid cardio-kickboxing class.

“Hey, Mitsuru, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Rebecca was careful, putting her hand on Mitsuru’s shoulder, slick with sweat. Even a tame dog can be dangerous. “What’s got you so worked up? Did something happen in the field?”

Mitsuru stopped her assault, her shoulders heaving as she caught her breath.

“You saw the report?”

The question was rhetorical. Rebecca saw every report, even the ones that were marked for Gaul’s eyes only. That was her job. Everyone knew that.

“Sure. It went well. Alice even gave you a few compliments, and that means something, coming from her. What do you have to be so upset over?”

Mitsuru finally turned around, her red eyes wet with intermingled sweat and tears. Rebecca was taken back despite herself.

“I saw Alice’s protocol.”

“So? She ports. She’s an apport technician, M-Class, the very best. What’s the problem?”

Of course, Rebecca already knew what the problem was. She’d known from the moment she’d read Mitsuru’s field report, before she’d had a chance to edit it. After all, she had to make sure that everyone who came saw Alice’s Black Protocol firsthand received her personal attention. Otherwise, they would notice it didn’t make any sense.

They had nothing to talk about, at least, nothing that Rebecca hadn’t heard a dozen times before. Everyone knew what a protocol looked like, after all. And Alice’s little displays looked nothing at all like one.

“What did she do to Tung? What was that?”

Mitsuru’s voice shook, but Rebecca was already inside her head, soothing, reinforcing. Creating little spaces for doubt to erode away.

“I’m not sure, hon,” Rebecca said with a tired smile. She was actually glad to have the opportunity to tell the truth, for once, since Mitsuru wouldn’t remember a thing. “Nobody knows. Alice Gallow has been here longer than we have. Whatever Alice Gallow does is a secret, even to her. Even to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No one does.”

“I don’t like it. It makes me nervous.”

“It made you nervous,” Rebecca corrected cheerfully. “It doesn’t anymore.”

“But, it could be dangerous…”

Mitsuru barely managed that, in a dreamy, half-removed voice. Rebecca pushed a little harder.

“That’s what everyone thinks. But, it’s not. Not while I’m here. You see, I know something about Alice Gallow that no one else does.”

Mitsuru’s eyes fluttered closed. She barely moved her lips when she spoke.

“What?”

“It’s our secret, silly. I can’t even tell you. She’s my best friend, after all. Now,” Rebecca encouraged, patting Mitsuru on the arm, “you go wash up, and go back to feeling good about the operation, okay?”

She stood there in silence, her eyes fluttering, before she was animated by a sudden internal signal. Mitsuru stretched like she was waking up, and smiled at Rebecca as if she hadn’t seen her in some time.

“Hey ‘Becca,” she said fondly. “Are you here for cardio-kickboxing?”

“I never understand the point of his lectures,” Alex complained. “I tried to take notes today, but how the hell can I take notes when I’m hearing all of this stuff for first time? I don’t even know what the important parts are. This is the dumbest class I’ve ever taken.”

Vivik laughed, peeling his orange in the shade of one of the massive HVAC units that had been crudely grafted onto the stone building. It was warm today, up on the grey slate of the roof, and Alex was glad to be outside. The three-hour long class had felt endless.