Skara Braens

Part 11

Part 10 Vote Tally

Option A: 1
Option B: 2
Option C: 0

Literacy, it's important, yo!  ONWARDS!

You smile at the psionic.  "I should like that very much."

"Good.  I shall prepare some lessons for you.  We will begin tomorrow.  Now eat, or your food will go cold.  It doesn't taste good cold.  Well, it doesn't taste good.  I just tastes worse cold."

"What kind of a name is EP-149?" you ask the psionic as you eat.  "Using numbers in a name seems odd to me."

"It is odd," EP-149 replies.  "And it's not usual human practice to use numbers when naming people.  I suppose I'm not a person.  Not really.  Not the way the normals are."

"Normals?"

"It's what we psionics call people who do not have any unusual talents.  Psionics, you see, and anyone else with special abilities, are few and far in between."

"So what does your name mean?"

"It means that I was the 149th fetus to be used in something called the 'Enhancement Protocol Programme'."

You pause in your eating.  "What is the 'Enhancement Protocol Programme?'"

The psionic smiles slightly.  "Well, it is no longer classified, so I don't suppose there is any harm in telling you."

"Classified into what?"

The psionic blinks.  "Pardon?"

"What was the programmed classified into?  You said it was classified."

Laughter takes the psionic briefly and he throws his head back.  The laughter isn't mocking.  It feels like genuine glee.  "Sorry," he says at last.  "I'm sorry.  I forgot you are an amnesiac.  When we say something is 'classified' it means it is secret unless you have the proper security clearance to know.  There are different levels of security clearance, and so different levels of secrets."

Scowling, you say, "I don't like secrets.  Secrets are dark things that are used like weapons.  A person with secrets can never be trusted."

A gentle smile replaces the broad grin the psionic wore previously.  "Perhaps.  But sometimes a secret must be kept, for the good of all."

"There can be no good secrets."

"Oh?  What if the secret is the recipe of a terrible poison?  One that can wipe out thousands of people, and then make their cannibalistic corpses walk again?"

"Is that what you think happened to this land?  A poison?"

"In a manner of speaking.  Our science team is certain there is some kind of organism behind our current predicament.  Some virus, or bacteria... or possibly a fungus.  There are fungi we know of that can control the minds of lesser animals like ants...."

"I recall something being said along those lines.  The enquiry into the cause is not going well, I understand."

"No.  So far, nothing can be linked to the plague of undead that has ended the world.  They now think that it  might be a combination of things; a perfect storm of infections...  But we've lost track of the question.  Would such a recipe not be a secret worth keeping lest it fall into the wrong hands."

"It clearly did fall into the wrong hands," you note.  "And because it was so secret, none now live who might have been able to counter it quickly, and you are left struggling for answers."  You think a moment.  "It is not as simple as I imagined it."

"It rarely is."

"Very well, EP-149.  I still do not like that name.  Your parents didn't call you that, surely?"

"I've never met my parents," EP-149 admits.  "They've never met each other, either, as it happens.  They were talented people, who were selected for a breeding programme because of their talents.  They donated their cells, and I was grown in an artificial womb."

Certain you heard the words correctly, but nevertheless did not understand, you stare blankly at the psionic.  "How is that even possible?" you whisper.

"Science," the psionic answers, though his smile is sad.

"So, you have no family?"

"Undoubtedly I am related to other psionics, since there was a very limited gene pool from which the researchers could gather material.  But I did not have a usual childhood by any means."

Thinking back, you realise that you cannot recall your own parents, but you know you must have had them, for your heart swells when you try to remember them.  Your heart remembers, even if your mind cannot.

"I'm sorry," you say.

The psionic shrugs.  "I don't really know what I'm missing, so it's not so terrible.  Still, sometimes I wonder."

"Well, I cannot call you by a number, whatever the strangeness of your birth."

"Most people just call me 'psionic.'"

"Does that not get confusing when there are two psionics in the room?"

"That is so rare as to be a negligible concern."

You fall silent, chewing on what you suspect might be meat, though you're not quite sure.  Is meat supposed to be grey?

"Even still.  You deserve a proper name.  Is there a name you have ever felt particularly attached to?  Something you would not mind hearing often?"

"I do not need another name, stranger."

"Indeed you do.  You are an adult now, and must set aside your childhood name of EP-149, and take up another mantle."

You both fall silent.

"Most people now no longer hold to the ritualistic taking of new names when they reach adulthood," the psionic says, his voice quiet.  "And haven't for thousands of years."

Thousands of years.  The phrase echoes in the cavernous space of the prison.  You swallow back an uneasy feeling and look down at your plate, frowning.  "But then how can they know?  How can they know how and when to set aside the behaviours of a child and become an adult?"

"That was once a subject of much debate amongst anthropologists and sociologists.  Before all of this other nonsense."

You brighten.  "Perhaps then I was once one of these... what are they?  Anthropologists?  Or a... Sociologist?"

"Yes.  Perhaps you were once a scholar of some sort, and the information has sat with you despite your amnesia."

There is another thoughtful silence before you say, "Have you decided upon a name?"

"I have always been fond of:

a) Tyr (Anglo-Saxon god of War and Justice)
b) Drest (The name of a Pictish king who "ruled a hundred years and fought a hundred battles")
c) Erik (Scandinavian, "Eternal King")"

(The choice of name determines the path of this character.  Which makes this far more complicated than my last democratic story.  Damn it.  The things I do to myself....)

Voting ends 1 September, 2016.

Good luck, Adventurers!