"You need to sleep," Jason chides. Empty coffee mugs are scattered about the table. Dark circles underline Aaron's eyes. One palm rests on his cheek, his other hand on the keyboard of a laptop. The midday sun beats at his back through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the garret.
"I can sleep when I'm dead," Aaron replies.
"You look as if you will be soon."
Aaron laughs. "Great."
"That isn't great."
Aaron rolls his eyes. "You take things too seriously."
"I have trouble with sarcasm."
"Clearly," Aaron smiles.
Jason takes the seat next to him. "What're you looking at?"
"The military records."
"What do they say?"
"Nothing yet. Just pages upon pages of reports about this and-" He glances at Jason's face and notices its pallor. "What's wrong?"
"I just get headaches occasionally, it's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing."
"I'm fine, I just need a glass of water." Aaron gets up to fetch the pitcher and a glass from the side table. Jason pulls a vial full of green pills out of his pocket. Aaron places a full cup on the table and Jason gulps the pill down. "Is that better?"
"Yes, thank you." Aaron resumes his work. Jason observes.
After a few hours Jason pulls on his coat. "I'm going, you should probably come too."
Aaron waves him off, his eyes glued to the screen, "I am not going to do anything till I find something useful."
"You're going to collapse."
Aaron shrugs. Jason casts on more worried glance at him, and departs. Aaron stares, the words illegible at this point. He dozes off, his weary head resting on his chest.
The sun's rays streaming through the windows jolt him awake. He rubs his eyes and taps the computer screen to wake it up. His eyes widen once the words come into focus.
Early morning pedestrians witness Aaron, a frenzied mess, bolting down the road, his laptop clutched in a vice-like grip to his chest. His unshaven face, haphazardly buttoned coat, and unruly curls add to his madman appearance. They watch as he passes, but do not say a word.
Ethan stares at the computer screen that has been put before him. Aaron stands, his gaze shifting nervously to the window, a plain cot, the wall, and back at Ethan's furrowed brow. "These statistics seem too good to be true," Ethan finally states.
"I know, but they come from a reliable source."
"Lemaire's bastard? I wouldn't trust her, even if Summers puts so much trust in the girl."
"Even so, these numbers... this could be our one chance."
Ethan looks at him for a moment, thinking. "Ready your group."
YOU ARE READING
Outcasts
Sci-fi"In the twenty second century civilization has crumbled from war. From the ashes rose a new society of the survivors, but it is worse than ever before." Idris Summers, a truculent nineteen year-old, is part of the lowest class of society, which is g...
