Superior

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Raiker

Knock, knock, knock. There was some shuffling of feet behind the door, and Fatima opened it with a half smile on her face, ready to greet whoever was outside. When she saw it was me, she immediately relaxed, her face face going back to tired. "What happened?"

"Let me in first, please. I think privacy's kinda important right now."

Surprised, she opened the door wider, revealing a small, rather cramped room overflowing with copious amounts of, well, stuff. The living space itself was of worse quality as compared to the rest of the rooms, but it was only natural for the authorities to treat people this way. I had half a mind to offer her my room and take hers for myself, but I don't think I would enjoy living in the girl's quarters as much as she would enjoy living in the guys' ones.

"So?" She asked, feet tapping repeatedly against the tiled floor.

"There have been some... interesting developments."

"Have there?"

"Aisa asked me if I believe in the teachings of the Superiot."

Her jaw went slack. "What happened? What did you do?"

So I sat her down and told her. I told her about Aisa's keen stare when she interrogated me, about how not even a single detail went past her unnoticed. I told her about how she looked hesitant in answering my questions about her allegiance. I told her how she stared after me, unconvinced, after my explanation. When I finished, she took a deep breath.

"Well, Raiker Denlow. You're a pathetic actor." Fatima raked her hand through her usually perfect hair, sighing. "I need some time to process this, but I honestly can't say I'm surprised. That girl's political astuteness and barely-concealed intelligence has been showing itself every single day. It's a good thing that a majority of the others you interact with are blinded and silenced by your father's image."

"The only time I remotely slipped up is the first day, when I tested her! I wanted to proceed with caution but I also needed to make an impression on her, so I said all those things to see her reaction! If she had taken it differently, I would have gone and apologized, and maybe charmed her suspicions off her. But she reacted much less extremely as compared to other of her likes, and as far as I could see, not even for the appropriate reasons!"

"That is a decently smart strategy, and you're capable of pulling it off... well, she must've recognized you before itself."

I went quiet. "She did. I found out at the gala."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "But it's been more than two and a half years since you've been caught anywhere on the media! Only those in the Superiot know about you! To the rest of the world, you're part of some unknown college and focusing fully on your studies! There haven't even been any rumours about you in the past three years. I thought the world had forgotten about you!"

"I know! I was counting on that, and I was also hoping that me being the lesser mentioned brother would make me less susceptible to recognition." I sighed, almost inaudibly, burying my head in my hands. "I just realized how much I risked with this dumb plan."

"I'm assuming that you believed that Aisa Farrow was one of those girls who spent all of her time on makeup and didn't step a single toe into the world of politics?"

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"Raiker... she's been born into politics. Her father's trying to become Governor. It would be impossible for her not to know even a thing about you. She might be better than what I expected her to be, but that doesn't mean she wasn't any good at all."

"I know. I should have thought it through better and spent more time planning instead of being this overconfident fool and ruining it all. I've ruined it all, haven't I?"

"No, it's not your fault. I mean, it is, but you've always been more of a leader, an action guy, than a careful planner sitting on a desk. You make decisions on the spot, and people trust you. You haven't ruined it at all, Raiker. In fact, I think your actions might actually end up gaining us a very, very important ally." She got up, rummaging through a drawer in her closet and pulling out a brown book. "Take a look at what I found."

***

Dear Diary,

It is the 29th of December and the world outside has gone white with cold. My father was trying desperately to engage Trent in conversation, to make him 'think like a strong man', but my brother doesn't enjoy talking about the mechanics of the world as much as I do. However, I'm still sent to my room, left to try on makeup or clothes. It feels unjust, but that is perhaps just what happens in my head. Mother barely allows me to spend any time discussing social science or politics with my father and grandfather under normal circumstances, but as the date of my test comes closer and closer, it's gotten worse. Today she needed to take care of our guests, so she left me to my own devices for the most part. I sat quietly on the sofa next to Father and Trent, hoping that they wouldn't think too much of my presence and what I should be doing instead., the television blaring headlines and news channels talking only of the upcoming elections. Father just glared at it, scrutinizing Jermaine Denlow's pale face with disgust while the man spoke to the journalists with a sugary smile. Father himself had been out earlier today, talking to news companies and interviewers about my examinations and his campaign. In my opinion, there were so many things he could have done to improve the general public opinions about him, but he obviously didn't really care when I told him that- he only needed the ____ to vote for him. "That bastard, he wouldn't last a day as Governor," he kept on saying. Forgive me for saying so, but the way Father was acting was honestly quite illogical. I was itching to ask Father why; what his strategies were, what he aimed to achieve; what he wanted to do differently from Jermaine Denlow. But, of course, it would seem ridiculous and silly to Father if he saw his daughter taking an interest in politics. Instead, he tried to explain it all to Trent, who was nodding his head mindlessly, half in oblivion. I hope Trent has understood something, at least- it will be useful for him, but also for me. I speak to my father through him. Trent is the only one who doesn't question my interest in politics, which I love about him. But still, I've been thinking; is there something wrong with me? These things should not be of any interest to me. Yet, they are. I shouldn't be dwelling upon these any longer- singing, dancing, makeup, and clothing is what is going to get me into the Superiot. Hopefully tomorrow will go alright. All I can do now is pray I've done enough.