C0NV3RG3 (Sequel to M3RG3)

Chapter 11

Monday

Arista

I was so close. The bubble of subconsciousness wrapped around me tightly, stubbornly impenetrable as it had always been. Gradually, I had been chipping it away, thinning the layers until Lyla and Natasha could hear me. They needed to know. They deserved to know. Still, the bubble encapsulated me, preventing me from going anywhere. I was trapped inside, able to see everything but do nothing.

Occasionally, I could temporarily break free and control Astrid's actions, but then I would be tossed back to where I started, and I had to restart the process all over again.

"As I was saying..." Terence droned, his monotonous voice flying straight through Lyla's mind. She was pondering again about the reunion with her sister. The two of them had promised to stay in contact, and afterwards, they had been texting non-stop.

I shoved myself against the bubble. It bent and flexed under my weight. Still, it was never enough. I was strong, but not strong enough to defeat this serum. If only Anthony were here. He would know what to do. I would be free, able to control my actions with a flick of my mind.

Except he wasn't here. And it was my fault that he wasn't.

Think out of the box. Apart from the ability to defy simulations, I doubted there was anything else that made me different from other Republicans.

Except...

I had been completely focused on fighting against the serum that I never relaxed. Perhaps this was what the Republic had been counting on me to do: Keep fighting and never stop, to let my perseverance and determination consume me until I couldn't think rationally.

Forcing myself to relax, I sank into the duvet of my own prison, letting the bubble tighten and wrap itself around me, pressing me downwards, cocooning me in its suffocating embrace. For the first time, I no longer fought against the serum. Instead, I let it consume me like a plague until I could no longer feel anything but the pounding weight of the bubble.

It was too hot. The restraints were always nail-bitingly cold. However, it was a fire that coursed through me, its searing blaze stabbing into me like a molten knife. The restraints were melting under the heat, and I, along with it. It was survival of the fittest. Me versus the serum.

The fire licked into every inch of my subconsciousness, the searing pain burning steel ropes. I gritted my teeth. Survive. I had to survive.

Slowly, the excruciating heat dimmed. I could hear her now. The thumping sound of Astrid's heart. Her inhales and exhales. The nervous fidgeting of her hands.

Then, there was light, emblazing me with its embrace. I rose with it, the final chains shattering behind me. I was free.

"Astrid, answer this question please," Terence ordered, pointing at the projected image.

Arista, who had missed out two and a half months worth of lessons wouldn't know the answer, but Astrid, who had read ahead knew the answer. "It's serum 65. Strong enough to be detected by serum specialists in small doses, but not powerful enough to be used for fighting purposes."

"Excellent answer, Astrid. Your assignment for this week is an essay based on any serum from 60-69. You'll find more details on the posted assignment." I let out a sharp exhale, my fists clenched inside my hoodie. He didn't realize what just happened. Our Tabloids pinged, and we quickly exited the room, with me trying to maintain an Astrid-like demeanour.

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I gnawed on my cold cut sandwiches. They were supposed to be flavorful, but it felt like eating sandpaper. My mind was too scattered, too preoccupied. It was a consequence of being unconscious for two months.