Linked

Four : Frenchwood

Sometimes, when I'm pushed and pulled down the corridors in a torrent of uniformed bodies, I imagine we are a river. The metallic lockers are the trees of my wind chime, hemming us in from the banks, guiding our way as we rush along.

"Wonder what this is all about?" Someone nearby ponders aloud as the crowd moves towards the auditorium.

"Maybe they are cancelling exams."

"Or setting more!"

"Maybe someone's died."

"Don't be morbid," Jesse says. He is the only one walking directly beside me. Everyone else seems to part automatically as though I'm surrounded by an invisible force-field. For some reason, people seem to think I'm going to report them to Special Services for skipping class.

"Think about it," the kid continues. "When was the last time the entire school was called to assembly together?"

Jesse shrugs. "Could be anything."

"It's gotta be something freaking important."

The auditorium is noisy. Alive with speculation, a turmoil of anxiety and excitement. Up on stage three chairs are set in a row, adjacent to the antique wooden podium where the principal speaks. I sit down somewhere near the back, beside Jesse. He grabs my hand again. It's almost like the touch of his skin on mine is blocking Corin from Linking. I can't hear even an echo beyond my own thoughts. 

In that silence, I realise the room has fallen into a hush. Our principal is standing at the podium. The only part of him that moves are his eyelids as he blinks, waiting for his students' full attention. He waits until the room is as motionless as a painting, then beckons the guests onto the stage. Two men in generic looking suits, and a woman, filing out to their seats. The lady is equal parts beautiful and scary. She has flame red hair, a knee-length black dress, and dangerously high heels that clack on the floor like delicate hooves. Over her dress, she wears a white coat that's tailored to flatter her petite physique. The men flanking her seem to fade into the background like an unfocused photograph.

"Welcome, students," Principal Gray booms, "to our first special assembly in almost a decade." He pauses. No one moves. I find my hand tightening on Jesse's. "Welcome, also, to our distinguished guests, who are here today to impart some important information." He introduces the men, before turning to the woman in the white coat. "Dr. Garnet Frenchwood," she raises her small, pointed chin slightly. "If you would care to take the stage."

A wave of muttering and sudden inhalations of breath course through the room as she begins by stating her topic.

"Mindlinking."

Everybody knows it exists, but as a monster in the closet. No-one dares open the door. It isn't discussed. The facts are sketchy. The government doesn't want people to know too much about it. That's what I thought, anyway.

"Yes, it is real. Yes, it is dangerous." Dr. Frenchwood purses her lips, pausing for a moment, letting her statement sink in. The entire room is staring at her. The air is still with held breath. I glance at Jesse beside me. He is just as enthralled as everyone else. "We at the Department of Research & Investigation see it as our priority to keep you, and your families, safe. The most efficient way to achieve this is to separate Linkers from the general population, until such time as we can be sure they are no longer a threat."

It sounds like she is talking about putting us in prison. Really, what are we a threat to? How can I possibly be dangerous just because I can talk without words?

"Here at school, you spend a great deal of time amongst your peers. You witness behaviour parents and authorities are not so frequently exposed to. I come here today to implore you to consider assisting us, if you can, to keep our communities safe." Girls and boys glance around at each other, judging, speculating. I wonder if anyone is looking at me in that way. I'm too scared to check. But Jesse's fingers wrapped around mine make me feel secure. "Effective immediately," Dr. Frenchwood continues, "suspected Linkers, upon being turned over to us, will be assessed for ability. If Mindlinker status is confirmed, he who nominated the individual for assessment shall be awarded a small sum to show our gratitude for your assistance in this endeavour."

"How much?" Someone shouts from amidst the hundreds of bodies crammed into the large room. Dr. Frenchwood narrows her eyes, raking them across the crowd as if trying to pick out who asked the question. But she doesn't hesitate in answering. She smiles slightly.

"One thousand dollars."

My lungs contract sharply. They are willing to pay people to turn us in. How many, I wonder, will rise to the bait and betray their friends and loved ones?

"Linkers are not like you and I. They are capable of unnatural things. A risk to the smooth running of our successful society. Do your part."

My lip stings. I touch it and my fingers come away smeared bright with blood. I lick it quickly away. If anyone saw me chewing nervously through my own skin, what assumptions would they make?

A hand near the front is raised in the air. The doctor nods at it, a look on her face that makes me think of a fox in a chicken coop.

"Where will you take them? The people we turn in, I mean?"

She blinks slowly, then allows a large, lazy smile to flash. It is dazzling. If I weren't the target, I would probably be tempted to do anything she asked, just to please her and see that smile again.

"A safe facility of course," she says. "Somewhere that will keep them safe, and everyone else, too."

The men that arrived by her side have retrieved a couple of large black briefcases. They haul them down the staircase leading off the stage and click them open.

"We have brought with us enough informational pamphlets for everyone. Your parents will be receiving these at work, and siblings at their schools, too. Please take one and read carefully through it. Then, put it somewhere safe so you know where to find it if the need arises to use the information. Thank you in advance for your co-operation." She gives a succinct nod and steps away from the podium.

The two men move down the rows, handing out flyers. Jesse and I sit in silence until they reach us, all the way up the back.

"Take one, pass them on," the man orders as he hands me a stack of neatly folded pamphlets. I glance down at the title. Spotting a Mindlinker. It's a fact sheet, with signs to look out for. I hope he doesn't notice I'm shaking, ever so slightly. I need to wipe myself clean, put up a mask of indifference. I hand the pile to Jesse, as instructed. Jesse lets go of my hand to take them.