The Hatch

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I am processed.

First, I get a new name. 3249. At least it ends in nine. I like nine.

I am given three more things. A nano-band, to wear around my wrist, which holds my training schedule and will keep track of my location. A chip is inserted into my arm. It grants me access to the student areas, classrooms, exercise yard, and shower facilities, and no doubt will keep track of me too. Lastly, I’m issued a black EASA suit. I hang it over the crook of my arm; the arm that now sports a band and a chip.

At the end of a tour of the place, where I pass lots of older teenagers dressed in black, I am shown my sleeping chamber. It is in a steel hangar where over a thousand capsules are stacked on top of each other. The sight reminds me of a shipping yard. Each capsule has a dome-like door and all of them are shut. Mine is in the purple coded section, and to reach it I need to go for a ride on a platform. The platforms run up and down in between each column of capsules. I want to ask for a bed in the green section, but my voice fails. Purple is not so bad.

‘Please surrender your pack,’ the faceless droid tells me. It is in human form, all silver with a silver mesh face and a muffled voice. Its face looks more like a speaker on our hologram device and I want to swipe it to sharpen its audio. But I don’t. Instead I focus on finding my own voice and making it loud and clear.

‘Do I have to surrender my pack? Please, can I keep it?’

‘It is not allowed,’ comes the waffled reply.

‘What will you do with it?’

‘Disintegration.’

‘No.’

The droid faces me. A red beam extends from a disc on its forehead and runs across my face, scanning my emotions. I gather it won’t like what it reads.

‘Why won’t you surrender your belongings?’

‘I like them. They are important to me.’

‘I will take up your protest with my superior. For now, give it to me.’

I’m too afraid not to. I hand it over. I draw on what’s left of my failing courage to ask, ‘Is my brother here? Jem Tate?’

‘No.’

That’s it? Just no? ‘Where is he?’

‘That’s classified.’

Another secret, of course. Tiredness descends.

‘I want to rest.’

‘Soon you must report to astral training. Your band will vibrate two hours and eight minutes from now to alert you.’

‘I will be alerted. Yes.’

‘Your band has geo-guidance. Just follow it.’

‘Follow. Yes.’

‘You may retire to your capsule.’

Bed. Good. I move away from the droid and ride the platform. I enter my designated capsule one leg at a time before pulling the door shut. I’m alone and yet I’m sure there are cameras on me. Although it is dark, I feel watched, recorded.

The slippery flooring inside is soft and clean. I sink into it and feel it mould around my body and limbs. As I turn over, it moves in a rocking motion.

I try to keep still. I try not to cry.

The next thing I know my band is vibrating. It wakes me and rattles my senses. I rock and slide about. Astral training. I don’t want to go. But I take it that my band isn’t going to stop its urgent style of vibrating until I do.

Back on the purple platform, I swipe at my band for geo-guidance. Little red lines light up on screen, pointing my way. I follow the flashing vertical and horizontal lines, which lead me out of the hangar and through a maze of criss-crossing corridors. As I walk, I pass students—tall, strong, young people—who stare at me. I suppose my green hair and clothes do stand out. After a few minutes, I arrive in a small room where two faceless droids are waiting.

My band ceases its jittering.

‘3249?’

‘What?’

‘Tate?’

‘Britta. Just call me, Britta.’

‘3249, why are you not dressed in your suit?’

I look down and see the soft material shimmer like dewy grass in the sunlight.

‘I like this dress. I like green. Don’t you?’

‘It is not the uniform. Next time wear the uniform.’

It suddenly occurs to me that when I take this dress off, it will be whisked away from me and not returned. It is all I have left to remind me of home.

‘I prefer…’

‘Strap in. It’s time we started. You were late.’

I look at the table and see straps, supposedly for my wrists. They are metal, as are the gloves that appear to be hooked up to a power source.

‘Electricity?’

‘It helps increase your vibration and astral connection.’

I’m surprised and anxious. ‘I don’t need it,’ I assure them quickly.

‘You can astral travel without it?’

I don’t know if I can, not on command. My astral travelling is more random, unpredictable. In fact, it often happens when I least expect it. Still, I don’t like the idea of being constrained and zapped, perhaps at painful levels, to activate that state.

‘I don’t want straps.’

Again, there is a red beam crossing my face. I know this time they will be reading fear and defiance.

‘We will report your protest to our superiors. Now get on the table.’

I look from the droids to the table. ‘No,’ I say very softly.

‘You must.’

‘I won’t go astral. I won’t. You need a willing mind and mine is not willing. All the electricity in the world won’t work. You’ll just have to fry me!’

The droids summon their superior, who summons their superior, who summons theirs.

Until, on my first day at EASA, I find myself once again meeting the head of the organisation, Treesa Breenswick.

Her suit still appears too tight for her, her schedule too busy, her expression too heavy. Yet, I see intelligence and reason in her eyes and I relax. Despite her impatience to be elsewhere, there is the possibility of gaining some empathy and understanding.

‘You won’t cooperate?’ she queries, getting straight to the issue.

‘I won’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t like pain.’

‘There is no pain. The electricity is very light. You will hardly notice it.’ She turns to the droids. ‘Why didn’t you explain that to her? You know she’s younger than our usual interns. Give her more information.’

‘Yes,’ the droids respond in unison.

I look to the controls and see that the electricity can be turned up. Once I’m strapped in, I’ll be subjected to their will.

Treesa follows my line of sight and reads my expression. ‘You don’t trust it?’

I shake my head.

‘Your brother and mother did.’

‘They were brave.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘No.’

‘It takes courage not to cooperate.’ She walks closer to the table, runs her hand along it. ‘You know, your mother was very good at astral travelling. She learned how to use electricity, how to master vibrations. You could be good too.’

‘I am not them.’

‘No. I can see that.’ She straightens. ‘What if you were to hold the straps? You could let go if it became too much. Retain control?’

I look at the table and concede, ‘I could do that, but it still won’t work.’

‘Why not?’

‘I have to be happy for it to work.’

‘Happy? You’re not happy learning such amazing things?’

‘No.’

She’s growing more impatient and I sense she needs to resolve my problem quickly so she can go do more important things. ‘All right. What would make you happy?’

‘I want my pack back. I want to wear my own clothes. I want to do gardening. I want books, recordings, music.’

She holds my gaze and I read her judgement. She thinks I’m spoiled. Still, she nods. ‘Done.’

‘Really? I don’t have to wear black?’

‘If you don’t mind being the only twig of colour in the whole place.’

‘And I want to visit home once a month.’

‘For the first year only. After that, no. Ongoing home visits are non-negotiable. They will generate too much resentment from the others. But your other demands—gardening, books, music, your own clothes—such things won’t elicit envy.’

I’m surprised. Why wouldn’t the other interns desire such privileges?

As though reading my mind, she explains, ‘Gardening is too hot and arduous. Entertainment is preferred in the virtual gaming room and people like the uniform. They like to blend in.’

I absorb this, though I’m still mystified. Gardening is wondrous, and the heat is not so bad beneath the glass domes. How can anything replace the magic of books and the sound of a good tune? As for clothes…

‘Now you will have all the things that make you happy.’

‘Not all the things,’ I say, thinking of Mum and Jem, and Dad and Neath and even Ray-Ray.

Treesa sees my pain and softens her tone. ‘No, not all. But with all the things that we can give you, will you be happy enough to get on that table and show us what you’re capable of? You know, we need you more than you know. Your skills are valuable in times like these. Your mother and brother would be very proud.’

I feel it then. Her impatience is not to be elsewhere but with me. She needs me to work. She needs what my skills can bring. Her eyes are resting on me and, I sense, will do so until she gets from me a promise to try my best. She is trying not to put too much pressure on me, yet I can see in those dark eyes a strong measure of hope. What is she hoping I will do, or see, or learn? Funny, that in a time of such incredible technologies she has a desperate need for my skills. Seems Mum was right. We have to train.

I nod.

‘Good.’ She gives my arm a firm pat with her big hand. ‘If you hear from your brother or mother, let us know.’

‘I usually only hear from Mum in the garden,’ I admit. ‘Not much though. We don’t talk, really.’

Treesa considers my words for a moment before looking to the droids. ‘Bring plants in here for the next session.’

‘Flowers, if possible,’ I put in.

The droids’ faces glow green with affirmation.

Treesa smiles at me as best she can. I gather she doesn’t usually smile, and I can see the action pulls on unused muscles and looks awkward. She walks to the door and turns back to me before leaving.

‘You know, we’ve never prescribed happiness and flowers for our training sessions. I hope it goes well.’

I hope so too. I hope I get to hear more from Mum!