The Normals | ✓

T W E N T Y - F I V E

A R D E N

Morning brings with it an early start to the day announced by a Mask -- that's what Angelo says he heard someone call the masked people -- who comes knocking on our door way earlier than I would've liked. We're given fifteen minutes to get dressed and use the bathrooms at one end of the hall and told to wait in a line at the other end. The clothing choice annoys me once I get a closer look -- they're basically all the same. Oh well, at least I won't have to spend ages figuring out what to wear in the mornings.

Lined up in the hall, a Mask leads us to the building we had exited last night. She takes us to a large room with tables scattered around its floor and we eat a filling breakfast before we're escorted back out and down a different hall. I walk with Angelo, even though we don't say much to each other. There are people in the halls now, milling about. They glance at us but don't do much else and continue their business. They aren't masked and they aren't adults either, and they remind me of the shy squirrels in my yard back at home. We turn a corner and arrive in a big, open, pentagonal room. More like an indoor courtyard, really. Windows and doors are set in four out of the five walls, giving us a view into the rooms behind them, and they stretch all the way up to what must be at least five or six floors high. There's a seating area nestled under two spiral staircases that curve up in the middle of the courtyard, giving access to the rooms farther up, as well as glass balconies that people are using to go from door to door. The one wall that isn't occupied by the entrance to a room holds a giant window spanning its entire height, which gives the people going about their business here a view outside.

We don't go up the staircase, as much as I want to. The Mask leads us to one of the doors on the ground floor and ushers us in. We step into a brightly illuminated room with one wall made of glass, overlooking a large field outside. A couple other Masks are waiting for us here, dressed in long, thin-looking coats. We take a seat and the Mask originally leading us hands one of them a tablet.

"What are we doing?" I ask Angelo.

"I know as much as you do," he replies.

"Sital Abott?" the Mask holding the tablet says, addressing us. Next to Angelo, a shy-looking girl raises her hand. "You're up first. Come right this way." She gets up and follows the Mask, disappearing through a door. The newcomers around me look on with curious eyes, but after about ten minutes it's clear she's not coming back. The Mask does, though, and calls someone else's name. "Xavier Adams?"

"I wonder what they're doing," I say.

"Guess we'll find out soon enough," Angelo replies from beside me. "Looks like they're going in alphabetical order. That means I'll be there before you."

He's right, and he's the first of the L last names to get called up. He gives me a salute and saunters off through the door, opening it before the Mask can do it for him. I wait, getting increasingly antsy as more and more people leave. By the time it's just me and a handful of other people left, the Mask calls my name. Relieved to finally have something to do, I stand up, smooth my clothes, and follow the countless others before me through the door.

I step into another brightly illuminated room, but this one has no windows. Some sort of reclining seat is fused to the floor in the middle of the room, a rolling stool by its side. A few holograms are displayed on the wall and around the reclining seat, and one of the other walls contains a few photographs of buildings I don't recognize.

"Have a seat, Arden," the Mask says, gesturing to the reclining chair in the middle of the room. He sets his tablet down on a rolling table which he brings over to me. "So, I'm guessing you know why you're here. You likely made a mistake or broke the rules or something similar. Well what I'm going to do now is I'm going to give you a test of sorts to help identify the root of the problem." He sits down on the rolling stool next to me and taps away on the tablet, making several holograms appear in the air which he moves around to get a clear view of me. "First though," he continues, "I'm going to need you to roll up your sleeve or take off your shirt, whatever works best for you. There are a few injections I need to give you before we start."

"What do they do?" I ask suspiciously.

"They're just to help you do well here. You're going to get them once a month anyway, and this is just the first one. A kind of preparation injection, if you will. Arm, please."

I end up having to take my shirt off since the fabric is too tight to roll all the way up. I don't like the feel of the cold air on my skin or his gloved hands clutching my arm, but I bite my tongue and deal with it. I get exactly three injections before the Mask pushes himself away, rolling to the wall behind us on the chair to dispose of the needle and put his things away on the shelves.

"Now..." he says, rolling back over, "we do your tests. These will test four areas prone to Differences: sight, emotions and mental health, hearing, and physical issues. The test should only take a few minutes. And although it's not designed to hurt, I can't say it's going to be the most comfortable experience ever. Sit back, please."

Nervously, I lean back in the chair, my shirt still sitting on my lap because I'm too uneasy to ask if I can put it back on. The Mask places some sort of contraption over my eyes and straps my wrists and ankles to the chair. That sets my stomach churning. What do they need to restrain me for?

The thing over my eyes darkens, blurring out my vision. I hear the Mask say something, but I'm not sure what, so I don't reply. A strange, numbing sensation passes through my body, spreading from my feet and travelling up my legs. I guess this is why they probably need the restraints, because I'm already trying to break free of this chair. Something is placed over my ears, blocking out the noises around me, and the calming yet slightly unsettling sound of water fills my head.