Calypso Initiate

Chapter Five

        When I step into the testing room, the first things I see are needles. They are thin, about an inch long. They aren't particularly daunting, but the sight of them floods back memories I never wish to relive. And before I can proceed, my insides are already shaking. The needles are all connected to syringes with a variety of colored liquids inside, and are lined up neatly on a long tray. A woman in a black and red jumpsuit stands next to them, the city's emblem embroidered on her sleeves.

        Her hair is unlike anything I've seen before. It's shorter at the back and longer at the front with fringes hanging above her eyebrows, every strand dyed in electric blue. Their tips are cut so sharply as though lasers were used to slice through them, and when she moves towards me, I notice how her locks stay in place.

        She seems young, only a few years older than me perhaps. But then again, judging by the flawless glow on her skin and the pink gloss on her lips I can tell she's an elite rank, and they have a way of preserving their youth. For all I know she could be thirty.

        "It's not polite to stare," says the woman, but despite her words there's a hint of friendliness in her tone. "You're not going to stand there and just look at me, are you?"

        I drop my eyes on the metal floor as I walk further inside. My entire body tenses at the sound of the door shutting behind me. It's colder in here. And I begin to wonder if they're doing it on purpose. As if I'm not nervous enough already, they have to drop the temperature a couple of degrees lower as an additional form of torment.

        The room hardly has anything in it. The floors and walls are all metal, spray-painted in a dull shade of platinum blue. Thin tubes of light run through the ceiling. In the corner where the woman stands is a table with medical equipment, along with two chairs, and a small gray machine with a few lights and no visible buttons. But what catches my eye is the long glass cylinder planted in the middle of the room that goes all the way up to the ceiling. It's big enough to squeeze two people inside. I cringe at the thought of being locked up in it. I already feel suffocated the moment I entered this building, and the sight of this thing further increases my sense of confinement. I shudder, imagining the type of torture they can do to me if I am to step inside.  

         "My name is Violet. Violet Sparks," the woman says, bringing my thoughts back to the present. "And you're..." She checks the slab of glass mounted on the table, tracing her fingers over it, although only she could see what's on display.

        "Prudence Archer," she finishes, snapping her fingers. Then she turns to me with a big smile. "Are you ready for the test?"

        I shrug. "Ready as I'll ever be I suppose."

        She gestures me to come closer as she takes a seat and I grab the chair across from her. I try to maintain my composure, but having the sole attention of my facilitator feels like a giant spotlight is shining down on me from the ceiling, and I can't help draw in deep breaths every now and then.

        She pulls a drawer underneath the table and takes out a bottle, spraying its contents on her hands. It smells like rubbing alcohol and my eyes immediately flick back to the needles.

        Violet fetches a pair of white rubber gloves and put them on. "I would need a sample of your blood," she says, and she presses something on the side of the table. A panel on the wall next to it slides open and pushes out what appears to be a small bin. "Take off your shirt and place it in there. You'll have it back after the test."

        I open my mouth to protest but I stop myself. I'm not at all thrilled being half-naked and freezing in this room, but I know any resistance won't do me any good. So I obey, lifting the shirt over my head and throwing it into the bin. The cold air prickles my skin and I hunch down covering what I can with my arms.