Enhancement

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A u g u s t , 2 1 4 7

I wake up smoothly, frozen in an alert standing position. As soon as I feel a helmet on my head and gear on my shoulders, fear fills my stomach. I look down at my outfit through the helmet's visor, and my heart jumps into my throat; it's red.

My thoughts scramble. This is impossible. Why am I dressed as a Screener? Why aren't I keeled over in a prison cell? Where am I? Aren't I supposed to be dead? I peer around the massive room, scanning the countless rows of red Screeners.

Where's Stephen?

I nearly faint. Oh, God, where's Stephen?

I focus my eyes around the room. Ranks of red Screeners stand motionless in the clean, barn-like building. A pair of massive doors swing open nearby, a forest peaking through the opening. All of us Screeners face a bare road in the middle of the thicket of woods.

I scan the rows for Stephen in vain. Every single line of Screeners stands immobile as they wait for an unknown cue. Confusion couldn't be more apparent in my mind. I'm in a barn with an army of Screeners, and I don't know why or how.

Maps and directions appear on the visor of my helmet, zooming quickly to their positions. They glow in bright red colors while a cursor appears on each chart, indicating my exact position.

I glance at the date in pure shock: it's August when it should be April. Was I really in the Enhancement Project for four months? Or was I just knocked out for all those months?

The rows of Screeners sporadically march forward, footsteps in sync. My boots move mechanically with them. The Enhancement Project technology does all the work for me, dictating each movement.

But where's Stephen? I try to stay calm, slowing my breathing. It doesn't help the growing levels of panic.

"Holland," a familiar voice hisses into my helmet's earpiece.

"Stephen," I say gratefully, relieved that my lips aren't locked shut by the Project. It's good to know he went the extra mile to contact me, even though we barely know each other. "What's going on?"

He exhales. "I don't know, where are we?"

Just as I open my mouth to confirm my lack of knowledge, I feel a sharp zap in both my temples. I flinch, expecting to stumble, but my body keeps moving forward.

"Stephen, did you feel that?"

"Yeah, I did."

"The experiment," I say, defeated. "You were right all along. It's never going to end. We're still being tested. This stupid torture will never stop."

A rough voice interrupts our conversation. "Cut the communications, Screeners."

I bite my lip. I hope the man didn't hear what Stephen and I were talking about. It could get us in serious trouble, whatever that even means anymore.

My body continues to march itself through the woods as I begin to perspire. I keep my mind focused and alert, but I'm overcome by the trees. It's is the first time I've ever been outside any city, and it's surprisingly gorgeous. Who knew so much beauty could cure a stroke of fear.

The Screeners and I truck across the sun-peaked woods, finally reaching the lower class sector of the city. Screeners drop off into random buildings, rushing to form small groups of four. A sense of dread fills my stomach as the roads become more and more familiar. Before I know it, only four sweaty Screeners remain. My stomach drops even further when we stomp right into my air-conditioned apartment building. This can't be good.