I walk into one of the 5 testing rooms, sitting down at an ugly beige desk, one of those old rickety ones with uneven legs, rocking back and forth at every weight shift. Focusing on taking deep breaths, I glance around at what would appear to be a normal classroom, identical in layout to those of our schools, the only difference being the cost of them. The tottering desks look horribly out of place compared to the shiny,  modern feel of the rest of the room. Almost like adding desks was an afterthought as if a classroom was not the original intention. Just like the light reflecting off the building, this gives me a sense of hope. I guess right now I’m just trying to grab and hold on to anything I can before my life possibly comes crashing down before I fall off the cliff.

The whole test blurs together into a mess in my head, and all I can see when I think of it is ink-smeared paper and the stains of tears everywhere. I’m the first out of the dozen or so people here finished, and I give Rome and Fritzy a wink before I am escorted out of the room by a uniformed guard with silvery metallic Glocks stationed on their belts, their color popping out against the black of their uniforms. Seeing them up close should, logically, give me a heart attack at my newly ripe age of 13, but it doesn’t. In fact, seeing the guards gun up close only encourages me, giving me enough confidence to try and strike up a conversation with her. 

“So…” I start, “jobs must get boring quickly. I mean, day in and day out, all you’re doing is escorting a bunch of kids down a hallway.”

All I receive in response is a blank stare. Not surprising. 

I give it one more go, saying, “Really have a lot to say huh.”

Once more, I receive only a blank stare. As we continue to walk down the long stone hallway, I’m hit by the sudden smell of peaches. I know how that sounds, the thought of smelling peaches in an eerie, gray hallway, devoid of any color, is insane. But I know what I smelled. And in smelling it, I’m hit with a memory. A memory I buried a long time ago, and one I haven’t thought about since I have. 

February 2033

I remember this day so vividly, it's like it happened yesterday. This is essentially the whole reason why we’re all here. Why I feel like I’m trapped with no way out stuck in this building. Why there is a guard with a gun escorting me through it. Why I just took a test in which the score determines my fate.

I’m 6 years old, finishing up my first year of real school, kindergarten. The morning air is frosty, nipping at my nose and ears, turning my face tomato red. Francis, Romeo, and I racing through the school courtyard, trying to beat each other and be the first to make it inside. Romeo made it first, me second, with Francis receiving last place. That's been the order of athletics since the day we all came out of the womb. We all file into the classroom, the last of our class there, per usual when all of a sudden, lights start flashing red, alarms start blaring, and black spots float through my vision. Loud noises scared me then, and I retreat into the corner of the room and sink to the floor, fighting off the sudden tears threatening to fall. 

Our teacher, Mrs. Nelson, comes rushing in then, comforting and telling everyone everything is fine, having to yell to be heard over the still resounding alarm. Francis and Romeo then join me, all huddling together in the small corner.  Soon enough, everyone is cramming into the corner, with Mrs. Nelson standing guard up front, laptop in hand. She’s whispering to everyone to keep quiet and still, begging everyone to stop crying. My hands are clutching Frankies, and Romes so tightly I can see my knuckles turning white. I’m positive I’m hurting them both, but I don’t let go. I just can’t. The thing that scares me the most is I have no perception of what’s even going on.

For what must be at least an hour, we all sit on top of one another, no one daring to move, talk, or even breathe too loud. Finally, Mrs. Nelson takes a deep breath and turns fully toward us as her sobs finally break free. 

“That was great everyone,” she says through compulsive gasps. “Go back to your seats please.”

We do as we’re told, all of us returning to our assigned seats. Hysteric yawps break out, 10 times louder than they should be thanks to having to repress them for so long. Along with them, conversations explode throughout the room, most of them supplying guesses for the cause of our panic-stricken hour. 

“What do you think just happened?” I ask no one in particular with a trembling lip. 

“I have no idea,” Romeo says

“Neither do I,” Francis very helpfully adds. 

I would find out later that day that a member of Congress had killed Juan Powers, the son of the leader of the strongest nation, Cargo. Reports and articles show him proclaiming his innocence, but there are videos and eyewitness accounts of everything. Not like I’ve ever seen the videos, nor do I ever want to. I’m sure that if I did, I would never sleep again, haunted by Juan’s maimed and mangled body. And though he was found guilty and convicted in the court of law, left to die behind bars, in hindsight it really doesn’t matter. When you do the right thing for the future, it still doesn’t change the past. Nor does it guarantee that the future will be the same as it always was. 

The sweet, fruity smell of peaches dissipates almost as quickly as it started. And as it does, I snap back to reality. I glance around furtively, and the actuality of my current situation sets in. I’m no longer walking down a beige hallway, and there is no guard in sight. Truthfully, there's not much of anything in sight. Darkness encapsulates me on all sides, and if I had to guess I would say I could see about 20 feet in front of me. 

“HELLO?” I cry out into the darkness.

My shout echoes, indicating that I’m in a pretty large room. 

“AMARA IS THAT YOU?” someone else calls out, equally if not louder than me.

I shriek and jump back, scared to death that I’m not alone in this room and that its other occupant knows my name. 

Once I get my bearings, I realize with shock that Francis was the one yelling.

“Francis, are you in here?” I yell out again, this time preparing to hear an answer. 

“Yeah, I’m here, and I think Romeo’s here too.”

“Rome you in here?” I call out again, like a teacher taking roll calls. 

“Present,” he voices, obviously catching on to the teacher's joke.

“Ok guys, both of us follow the sound of my voice, that way we know where each other is and we can figure out what the heck we’re doing in here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rome answers. 

And with that, I hear the sound of weight against metal, like someone crawling their way toward me. I keep rambling on, talking gibberish, the resounding echo keeping the conversation alive. As my rant continues, the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional curse word advance toward me. After about 5 minutes, Rome and Francis arrive at my feet, like a puppy begging for its owner's attention.

“No one is hurt right, we’re all ok?” questions Fritzy.

“I’m fine,” I reply.

“A-okay,” is Romeo’s genius response. 

“Ok, now that’s out of the way, let's think about what we’re doing here. First off, what did you guys do after the test? Any specific smell by chance? And did it have something to do with peaches?” I spew out questions, taking the makeshift role of the leader.

Francis starts us off, saying, “After I finished, I was escorted down this ugly tan hallway by this girl guard with a silver gun. And how did you know? Not even 3 minutes after we started walking, I got hit with this overwhelming scent of peaches. And then after that, all I could think about was when Juan got killed.” 

He lowers his voice for that last sentence, almost as if speaking about it is a sin, and that avoiding the topic altogether will blink it out of existence.  I, however, believe in the fact that “Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,” in the wise words of my lord and savior, Hermione Granger. 

“Then when the memory was over, I snapped awake and ended up here.”

“This whole thing is starting to really creep me out because literally, the exact same thing happened to me.” 

“There has to be a logical explanation,” I declare, grasping for excuses and justifications, only to come up empty-handed each time. 

“I’m sure there is one,” Rome agrees, though the uncertainty in his voice plainly opposes his statement. 

I open my mouth, about to throw out another illogical rationalization to this mess when all of a sudden an ear-splitting bang fills the once-silent room. Seconds after the noise, the room floods with scintillating light, blinding me and I’m sure everyone else instantaneously. I try to take a quick scan of the room, shielding my eyes with my eyes as I do, but the light is just too much.

Time passes by slow as molasses, with my eyes adjusting to the sudden burst of light just as quickly. Once they do, I let out a tumultuous yelp and jump back a good 4 feet. Standing guard at the room's entrance is a man. And seeing anyone there would be terrifying enough, but when the somebody you see is a 7-foot-tall jacked man, with what I could only guess are burn scars covering the better half of his face, terrified doesn’t even cover it. 

Once he’s ensured he has Francis’s, Romeo’s, and my full attention, he cracks a vile smirk, as if he wants us to know that he is in complete control, and we’re just a helpless rag-tag group of kids, sitting at his mercy. 

He begins talking, his rasping voice making my skin crawl like nails on a chalkboard. 

“I’m sure you all are wondering why you are seemingly stuck here in this room instead of at home lying on the couch. I can assure you there will be none of that from here on out. However, back to the matter at hand, you 3 have been chosen to participate in Enigma’s state-of-the-art trials. They are designed to study and collect data on your brain waves and patterns. Every trial's purpose is to create new groundbreaking technology which would allow us to control and thoroughly embed information into the community's brains.”

At this, Rome tries to interrupt by shouting, “You’re full of lies!”

Instead of stopping to acknowledge and retort to Romeo's comments like a normal person would, the burn freak of a man just continues to talk, gradually getting louder as Romeo continues to as well, always staying at least a decibel above him. It’s a sick battle of who can get the last word, and burn man seems to be winning. 

“These devices will allow us to rid society of its annual intelligence test, and ensure a bright future for the people Enigma calls its own.” 

He finishes his speech, and an uncomfortable silence fills the room from floor to ceiling. It’s so silent you could hear a hairpin drop. I can feel the glass case holding the prophecy of my future shattering before me under the weight of the words the freak man has said. 

Rome is the one to finally break the silence.

“No, I don’t care if I was chosen, I’m not gonna be some lab rat for your screwed-up excuse of a government!”

The man's wicked stare remains, all the while saying, “This is a very common response. Once the trials are in action and you are more thoroughly informed, you will be quick to change your mind, I’m sure of it.”

“You’re a real bastard, just an FYI,” Francis says nonchalantly, completing the harsh sentiment with a seemingly innocent shrug of his shoulders.

“I’ve been called a lot worse kid,” he says, maintaining his collected expression. 

“Now,” he says, “if you ever want to get out of this room, I suggest you follow me before these doors close and you don't ever see the sun again.”

With that, he turns and walks out of the room, into what I’m assuming is the same beige hallway I walked through earlier today. We all look at each other, unsure of what is the correct choice. It’s hard to decide what to do when both of your hands are tied. 

I’m the first one standing, and I move towards the door as I tell Fritzy and Rome. “Realistically, what choice do we have? We can fight all we want, but if we all wanna live to see another day you know as well as I do we’re gonna follow this creep.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” Francis grumbles, but he gets up to his feet and walks towards me. 

That leaves Romeo the only one still sitting. He’s clearly against following this man, but he’s smart and I know he’ll realize it’s practically his only choice. Hopefully soon. 

“Dude, I love you but could you possibly move any freaking faster. 5 seconds and we’re gonna lose him for good, then we’re really stuck here. What chance do we have of getting out and fighting if we’re trapped in essentially a jail cell with no windows? I’ll tell you right now, not a very good one.” 

“I second that one,” my right-hand man France adds.

Finally, he jumps to his feet, coming to his senses. 

“Sorry about that,” he sheepishly says as he shakes his head slightly.

“Apologize later, we have to go right now,” I call back behind my shoulders as I sprint to catch up with the burnt face just as I watch his arm disappear around a turn.

The panting sounds coming from behind me indicate that my brothers are not far behind. Soon enough, we all catch up to the man and walk in step with him, the hallway just wide enough for all four of us. Unsurprisingly, he gives no acknowledgment at the reappearance of us, not even a glance up from where his eyes are plastered to the floor. As we continue walking the long hall, a gray set of double doors comes into view. I sneak a glance at Rome and Francis at the sight of them, trying to gauge their reaction to spotting an unlikely but possible exit. Their expressions are mirrors of what I assume are my own, stone-cold features against pale, bloodless skin, devoid of any emotion except maybe fear. 

The swollen, blistered face of the man suddenly appears inches from my face, so close I can feel the heat from his breath splash against my cheeks and down my neck. 

“Any one of you nutters make a move, especially you, don’t think I’m gonna hesitate to beat the rest of your life right outta you,” he sneers, flashing his horrid yellow teeth at me. 

“Noted,” is my simple response, not trying to irritate him after he just threatened the lives of a bunch of 13-year-olds. Doesn’t strike me as the kind to take well to jokes, especially ones about him. 

He snaps back around on his heels and pushes his way through the swinging doors with such force, I have to back up a foot so that they don’t knock the life out of me before he can. 

I push out a quick breath, then make my way through the double doors as well, looking back to make sure both Fritz and Ro followed me. Once they’ve taken up either side of me, I take a second to look around. More than a second actually, because I’m immediately enthralled by the window paned ceiling, encasing the room in brilliant white light. I follow the trail of light, and my eyes land and focus on what looks to be a series of tubes much like superheroes such as Captain Man and Kid Danger travel through to go help the community of Swellview. Subconsciously, I walk towards the tubes, the sunlight shining through the ceiling seeming to guide the way like a spotlight. Before I can get too close, however, unfamiliar hands reach out and pull me back.

My fight or flight kicks in, and I start thrashing my body about, hoping to connect with something, a face preferably, all the while screaming a very appropriate, “Let go of me!” over and over.

My wish is soon granted, though not as comfortably as I would’ve liked. I’m being hurled to the floor before I can ever register what's happening, and I land face-first. Whiplash from the fall sends my head soaring backward, so far and fast I’m sure I’m going to break my neck. Seconds later, my head is once more flying forward toward the concrete ground. A shooting pain sears through my head, splitting my skull in half as my head connects with the unforgiving floor. As I try to lift my head to catch a glimpse of who just assaulted me, my vision tunnels, and I feel my head hit the floor one last time before I’m knocked out cold. 

***

I wake up in an eerie gray room, into an equally eerie silence. The bare room contains a bed on which I’m laying and a single dilapidated desk which is home to a TV. Weirdly, the TV seems to be brand new, with not a single speck of dust on it, contrary to the rest of the room. I sit up to get a better look at my surroundings when a shock of pain jolts through my head, reminding me of my little encounter with who I’m assuming are Enigma guards, much like the one who escorted me out of the testing room only hours ago. I roll my way out of bed, fighting with the pain in my head telling me to go back to sleep, or better yet, back to black. I win the battle, stumbling my way to the TV and desk set. I search the TV for a power button since I can’t seem to find a remote, and once I find it, I hold it down until the bright blue Enigma logo shines on the screen. The sudden light worsens my pulsing headache, but my curiosity overpowers it. Once the crest disappears, a room almost identical to mine appears in place of it. I put all my willpower into focusing my eyes, and to my dismay I see Francis lying on the bed. 

“FRANCIS!” I shout at the telly before I can stop myself. 

As if he heard my cry, he shoots up out of bed and runs toward the dresser in his room, the only apparent difference to mine. I watch, entranced by his movements, as he opens the top drawer and pulls out what looks to be a knife. The light from his TV, which I now see, displays a look into a third room, indistinguishable from France’s, which holds Romeo by the looks of it. A Romeo who looks hypnotized, and one who's mirroring Francis’s every move. I watch in absolute horror as they both hold the knife in front of them, then turn in unison so that I am locking eyes with them both through the screen. I hold my breath, not daring to look away for even a second. 3 seconds later, I scream in anguish as I watch both of my brothers take their knives and stab themselves in the gut respectively. I sit and watch in agony as the life leaves their eyes, and they both collapse on the floor in a position similar to mine. 

I continue screaming, but the tears won’t come. I feel suddenly detached and devoid of all emotion like this is a nightmare and I know I’m about to wake up. I pinch myself just to double-check, even though this is a nightmare, one I know I won’t wake up from. The heaviness of feeling empty crushes me, and I finally collapse into heaving sobs, the sheer sound of them splitting my head open more and more, little by little. After I’ve cried all the tears out of my body, the numbness resides, making way for something much more dangerous than emotional paralysis, rage. All of my panic, anxiety, and fear seem to suddenly morph into blind hatred, making it so all I can see is red.

I make my way to my feet, using the desk for help, and start howling at the TV screen, saying the nastiest things that come to mind, each insult a little worse than the last. Curses and slurs make their way into my hysterical cries, things I swore I would never say. I guess all morals fly out the window when you watch your brothers, the only people in your life who seem to love you, kill themselves under the influence of something. 

I obliterate my vocal cords until all I can manage to say in a horse whisper scream is, “Enigma, I know you can hear me, so listen up. I swear to god, I’m gonna find out who did this to Francis and Romeo and I’m gonna kill them I swear. Mark my words.”