Until That Day
The Scientists said their way was best, the only way to control the Powered. According to them, those with psychic powers would take over the world and enslave all of us if allowed to practice their powers freely. I had always believed them. After all, what would you do if you could read thoughts? If you could lift a eighteen-wheeler with nothing but your mind? Wouldn't you be tempted to abuse that kind of powers? I took their word for it, always.
Until that day.
Until I got powers.
It shouldn't have happened. I defied every rule about power acquisition. There were supposed to be two types of powers: those present from birth, the weaker type and those that developed at puberty, the stronger type. Nobody over the age of fifteen had ever gotten powers. Not once. How old was I when it happened to me? Twenty-one and still a sophomore in college, having struggled through freshman year barely breathing.
My nineteen year old roommate had exiled me from the dorm for the millionth time to hook up with her latest fling, and I was angry as hell. How was I supposed to survive college if I couldn't get any sleep? Sitting in the shabby “lounge” at the end of the hallway I had spotted my stupid roommate's hookup down at the other end. I imagined the tattered couch flying at his pretty-boy face.
It did.
His eyes widened in surprise, but that was nothing compared to how wide my eyes went. Oh no, I thought, it can't be.
I ran, fast and far and with no direction, hoping desperately I wouldn't be caught. Roomie's hookup had recognized me, understood I was an uncontrolled Powered. There was no guarantee the couch would hit him and knock away his memory. The punishment for my transgression would be severe, and, even if it wasn't, what the Scientists did to uncontrolled people with powers was bad enough. Each Powered had to take an injection of Control Serum every month. It prevented powers from working, but it also prevented a Powered's mind from working.
Constant brain fog, ever-present stupidity, memory loss and, all too often, a sensation of pins and needles in your head. That's what the serum did to you. It had seemed like a perfectly fine price for Powereds to pay. They were all wannabe world-conquerors, after all.
Only I wasn't a world-conqueror, and that hadn't changed. When the couch went flying, I didn't think about how I could go on a murderous rampage. All I thought about was getting to safety. My friend Claire lived off-campus, and, without knowing it, I had run all the way to her house. I knocked on the door frantically, despite the chance she might not answer.
Luckily, she did, in her pajamas with her blonde hair a total mess. Claire mumbled, “Georgia? What are you doing here? It's like stupid o'clock.”
I blurted out, “I need you to hide me!”
Confusion crossed her sleepy features. “What?”
I answered, “Let me inside and I'll explain, promise.”
She let me in, still confused, and I almost regretted my promise to tell her what was going on. How was Claire going to react? I twirled a strand of my own dark brown hair around my finger, not meeting her eyes. Now, she looked less sleepy and more concerned.
Claire asked, “Okay, what is going on? You're about to jump out of your own skin. You didn't do anything to get in trouble with the police, did you?”
“It's worse,” I breathed as I flopped onto her worn sofa. At least the couch was comfortable, unlike the ones in the dorm. Unlike the one I made fly.
My friend just stood there; her eyes, though still a bit sleepy, demanded an explanation. She inquired, “Worse how?”
I tried not to fidget too much as I confessed, “I did something bad, but this isn't a matter for regular police. I'm, uh, in trouble with the Scientists.”
That just confused her. “In trouble with the Scientists? What on Earth could you have done to end up in trouble with them?”
Not looking at her, I admitted, “I made a couch fly. With my mind. I know, impossible, right? But I was so mad at my roommate's latest hookup for kicking me out of my room I imagined it flying at him. And it did.”
Claire's eyes widened. She stared at me for the longest time, and I thought I might choke on the tension. I thanked the Powers That Be she didn't immediately kick me out or move to call the police or the Scientists' Uncontrolled Powereds Hotline on me.
Finally, she squeaked, “But you're old.”
I knew I shouldn't have gotten powers at the relatively ancient age of twenty one. “Yeah, Claire, I realize that. I make no sense. But it happened, and I'm not going to turn myself into the Scientists. I won't take the Control Serum. I'm not going to try and take over the world with flying couches. So turn me in if you must, but I won't go down without a fight.”
Resolve built in me. I wasn't going to just take this.
Claire said, “I'm not going to turn you in.”
That was a huge relief. I told her, “Thank you.”
Since I was safe for now, something else occurred to me. It wasn't just wrong for me to be forced into taking the Control Serum. It was wrong for everyone to have to take it when they had done nothing to deserve such a punishment. I admit the issue only concerned me after I got my powers, but that didn't cancel out the wrongness of everything. The resolve to fight my own fate morphed into a resolve to fight the fate of all Powereds.
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written for 500themes prompt #31 - "The Winds of Change"
Until that day.
Until I got powers.
It shouldn't have happened. I defied every rule about power acquisition. There were supposed to be two types of powers: those present from birth, the weaker type and those that developed at puberty, the stronger type. Nobody over the age of fifteen had ever gotten powers. Not once. How old was I when it happened to me? Twenty-one and still a sophomore in college, having struggled through freshman year barely breathing.
My nineteen year old roommate had exiled me from the dorm for the millionth time to hook up with her latest fling, and I was angry as hell. How was I supposed to survive college if I couldn't get any sleep? Sitting in the shabby “lounge” at the end of the hallway I had spotted my stupid roommate's hookup down at the other end. I imagined the tattered couch flying at his pretty-boy face.
It did.
His eyes widened in surprise, but that was nothing compared to how wide my eyes went. Oh no, I thought, it can't be.
I ran, fast and far and with no direction, hoping desperately I wouldn't be caught. Roomie's hookup had recognized me, understood I was an uncontrolled Powered. There was no guarantee the couch would hit him and knock away his memory. The punishment for my transgression would be severe, and, even if it wasn't, what the Scientists did to uncontrolled people with powers was bad enough. Each Powered had to take an injection of Control Serum every month. It prevented powers from working, but it also prevented a Powered's mind from working.
Constant brain fog, ever-present stupidity, memory loss and, all too often, a sensation of pins and needles in your head. That's what the serum did to you. It had seemed like a perfectly fine price for Powereds to pay. They were all wannabe world-conquerors, after all.
Only I wasn't a world-conqueror, and that hadn't changed. When the couch went flying, I didn't think about how I could go on a murderous rampage. All I thought about was getting to safety. My friend Claire lived off-campus, and, without knowing it, I had run all the way to her house. I knocked on the door frantically, despite the chance she might not answer.
Luckily, she did, in her pajamas with her blonde hair a total mess. Claire mumbled, “Georgia? What are you doing here? It's like stupid o'clock.”
I blurted out, “I need you to hide me!”
Confusion crossed her sleepy features. “What?”
I answered, “Let me inside and I'll explain, promise.”
She let me in, still confused, and I almost regretted my promise to tell her what was going on. How was Claire going to react? I twirled a strand of my own dark brown hair around my finger, not meeting her eyes. Now, she looked less sleepy and more concerned.
Claire asked, “Okay, what is going on? You're about to jump out of your own skin. You didn't do anything to get in trouble with the police, did you?”
“It's worse,” I breathed as I flopped onto her worn sofa. At least the couch was comfortable, unlike the ones in the dorm. Unlike the one I made fly.
My friend just stood there; her eyes, though still a bit sleepy, demanded an explanation. She inquired, “Worse how?”
I tried not to fidget too much as I confessed, “I did something bad, but this isn't a matter for regular police. I'm, uh, in trouble with the Scientists.”
That just confused her. “In trouble with the Scientists? What on Earth could you have done to end up in trouble with them?”
Not looking at her, I admitted, “I made a couch fly. With my mind. I know, impossible, right? But I was so mad at my roommate's latest hookup for kicking me out of my room I imagined it flying at him. And it did.”
Claire's eyes widened. She stared at me for the longest time, and I thought I might choke on the tension. I thanked the Powers That Be she didn't immediately kick me out or move to call the police or the Scientists' Uncontrolled Powereds Hotline on me.
Finally, she squeaked, “But you're old.”
I knew I shouldn't have gotten powers at the relatively ancient age of twenty one. “Yeah, Claire, I realize that. I make no sense. But it happened, and I'm not going to turn myself into the Scientists. I won't take the Control Serum. I'm not going to try and take over the world with flying couches. So turn me in if you must, but I won't go down without a fight.”
Resolve built in me. I wasn't going to just take this.
Claire said, “I'm not going to turn you in.”
That was a huge relief. I told her, “Thank you.”
Since I was safe for now, something else occurred to me. It wasn't just wrong for me to be forced into taking the Control Serum. It was wrong for everyone to have to take it when they had done nothing to deserve such a punishment. I admit the issue only concerned me after I got my powers, but that didn't cancel out the wrongness of everything. The resolve to fight my own fate morphed into a resolve to fight the fate of all Powereds.
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written for 500themes prompt #31 - "The Winds of Change"