On the first day of school, Arran saw the Metropolis take on a new shape with the arrival of students and staff; it was like putting meat on the bones of a skeleton. With anxious peers buzzing in and through the narrow throat of two glass doors, the entrance, he chose to be the more responsible and not let a careless bump of the shoulders offset anyone’s first day, and so kept his eyes off his micro PC while he walked (a stark contrast the others around him).

As he worked his way through the entrance, navigation became easier when he took a sharp left to trace the buildings empty parameters; and he watched as the other students mindlessly charged forward. A few spread out while the majority kept a straight file that was almost as tight as the narrow opening, as if they were grains of sand falling through the tiny channel of an hourglass.

Given the flowing stampede, the inside of the Metropolis was quick to come alive. It was the fullest Arran had seen it. But then a junction ahead was separating the crowd more or less evenly. At the right end of the divide was an archway with a deeply etched marking shaped around the arch: Aesthete Institute. On the left side, the concrete archway was the same, except it bore a different etching: Lumen Institute. He followed the latter path.

Entering the smaller hallways in the Metropolis, he smiled as he looked around, admiring his new home for the next four years. He passed the library and remembered that that would be the place for him. He thought of making something of a second home out of a small, rounded corner he thought would be nice to study in. What made it special was that the entry point was flanked by staggered book shelves; and these book shelves curved into each other almost in the same way a deck of cards do at the collapse of a shuffle. Meaning, there was no easy access. It was as if the spot was designed to be in hiding.

Among his Lumen peers, his real peers, he received a few friendly smiles and returned them with added charm (the half-wave being his favorite); and he noticed how much less of the students were occupied with their micro PCs. A consequence, he thought, of no longer being in a crowd full of Aesthetes.

Crossing through a pathway that opened up to another long hallway, he traced his memory to view his class schedule again:

Elementology

Biology 101

Biology 101 Lab

Psychoschismatics

Introduction to Premonitions

Applied Fluency

Meditation Methods

The first three were a part of his general studies but the last four were Aesthete courses. Arran was excited for these, especially Applied Fluency. But because it was an intensive course, it didn’t start until October.

Turning a corner, he spotted his close friends. They weren’t far but they hadn’t seen him yet. As he watched them walk in his direction, it pleased him to see them in their familiar manner together. Oliver with his hoppy charisma, his hands doing their gesture-speak as he talked; Dominic with his tall, dark and stoic vibe, taking long and slow strides. They were all smiles.

When they finally saw Arran, Oliver bursted out, “Well, well, well…,” and skipping ahead of Dominic, “if it isn’t Arran the Aesthete. You know you were supposed to make a right at the junction?” he pointed back with his thumb over his shoulder, “This is the Lumen Institute, good sir.”

Arran couldn’t help but smile. Ever since he could remember, Oliver was the only one that could mention the presumption of his name and get away with it in good humor.

“You’re lucky I don’t knock you out,” Arran said still smiling.

“Lucky! Oh no, luck would need to be on your side for that to happen.”

Dominic stepped between the two indifferently and moved them forward with a hand on each of their shoulders “Glad to finally have you with us, Arran.”

“That’s for sure,” Oliver reaffirmed. “It’s been a whole year since we’ve all lived in the same city.”

“It has been awhile,” Dominic confessed. “But Fate can only keep us apart for so long.”

Arran looked up at Dominic’s warm grin before meeting Oliver’s hazel eyes. It made him recall the note of loyalty they’d often recite when the mood called for it.

“All for one,” Arran said.

Then, in suitable unison: “And one for all!”

Now with Arran completing the trio, they were all laughs. They laughed and laughed. But in those small breaks of laughter, when a judicious thought can remind you to take account of the unacquainted, Arran noticed that they were gathering looks nearby that expressed unmistakable interest.

Feeling powerful, Arran gladly welcomed the attention.

As they merged out of the center of the hall to Oliver’s locker, Arran leaned back against one next to it, casually observing the ripple effect they left behind – a number of curious stares. But then one stood out as being not-so-curious. Almost the opposite of curious. A glare. It came from none other than Douglas Steele.

Dominic, who was a second-year student, had filled Arran in before concerning the social hierarchy at the Institute. And according to him, Douglas (a second-year student) was at the top of the ladder.

If you took away his present expression, he actually had something brutally handsome about him. His style was a coolness that weighed decisively against decorum, behaving not poignantly mannered, but with that kind of ‘bad boy’ attitude that oddly appeals to girls. One could see him becoming an Aesthete.

Douglas’ girlfriend, Maggie, was already walking away from him and toward their direction. She was a short auburn-haired beauty whose facial structure bore an astonishing symmetry. But Arran had gathered this much from seeing her before through social media. Seeing her then in person was different, more transparent. She had a kind of use-to-be face that faintly traced her original sweetness, being more detailed from too much effort in trying to be something she’s not.

As she passed the newly reunited trio, you could tell that she poised herself for display. Rocking her hips and shoulders confidently, she kept her gaze ahead – making it clear that she had absolutely nothing to do with them.

Dominic was watching the same spectacle next to Arran.

“Dominic, what do you know about Maggie?” Arran asked.

“How do you know that that’s Maggie,” Dominic asked as he raised one of his thick eyebrows. “Unless you’ve been doing a fair bit of media snooping?”

Arran rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t do it.”

“Well,” Dominic started, “from what I’ve heard, she used to be what you might call a world class floater.” He went on to explain the consensus: she had an extremely outgoing personality and liked to talk a lot – which naturally led her to be an active member for volunteer groups in many school-oriented events. And this didn’t at all subtract from her ordinary social life.

But now, all of that energy had vanished. She barely talks to anyone now; it’s as if she were held in a vampire trance, ya know? That was to say that she didn’t understand the boyfriend-friend balance. And when her close friends confronted her about it, she went off in a flair of self-defense – for herself and for Douglas. She’s blind to her blindness…she would literally follow him off a cliff…she’s utterly loyal to Douglas.

Looking back at Douglas, Arran saw that he was talking to one of his friends, so he decided to carefully reach into his mind…

It was as he suspected. Douglas wasn’t concerned about Maggie at all; instead, he was checking out one of the new arrivals, a fair-skinned beauty of obscure European origin. Arran looked back down the other direction to see Maggie, who was then at her locker. The poor girl, Arran thought, she had no idea.

“Did you guys see the way Douglas Steele looked at us?” Oliver asked after finishing his book exchange.

“Shit,” Arran said, immediately looking away from Maggie and toward the ground. He had forgotten to break his link with Douglas, and he had probably traced his energy back to Arran’s location.*

“Arran!” Oliver said his name with uncontrollable excitement. “He looked at you like an alpha wolf ready to establish his dominance.”

“How do you mean?” Arran implored.

And peered at Oliver to gather a fuller meaning. But it wasn’t what he thought: Oliver just looked at him in the plainest honesty, his teenage angst shining through in those hazel eyes of his – having the electrifying feel for want of an epic showdown.

It was at that moment that Arran felt a foreign pressure in his mind. He perked up. “It can’t be that…”

Stay out of my mind you fucking Innocent, it was a voice clear in Arran’s head. And as quick as he could, he forced the unfamiliar energy outside of his mental space.

How long did I leave him roaming in my mind? Arran thought.

He paused and looked back over his shoulder to discover that Douglas was still watching him. Arran knew this because their eyes firmly locked the instant he saw him; and he held his stare for as long as he was turned to see it – then he spoke with reassured confirmation, “…so let the games begin.”

“Why, what happened?” Oliver asked.

Arran looked at both comrades for the length of a serious pause.

“Douglas was just in my head.”

“Wooaahhhh,” Oliver said, “I was kind of joking before. That’s seriously not right.”

Dominic spoke next: “Yeah, I’m confused. That’s so random. I mean, I know he’s bloody mean sometimes, but what would provoke him to do that? And why target you of all people?”

He looked at Arran as if he could supply the answer; and Arran was sure he looked a little guilty at that point.

“I was in his mind first and forgot to break my link. So yeah, I was asking for it.”

“What would you do that for?” Dominic said.

Arran shrugged his shoulders, “Curious, I guess.”

“Arran you can’t use your fluency on other students – that’s breaking code. You know that.”

“Except during sport,” Oliver said.

“Do you see us in a dueling ring, Oliver?” Dominic remarked dryly and hissed to himself. It was a pure reaction of irritation mixed with disbelief.

“Damn mate. And on the first day too.”

“Do you think Douglas will turn him in for breaking code?” Oliver asked.

“No,” Dominic said, “Douglas also broke code. So, if he reports Arran to the thought officers and they scan his memories, they’re sure to find Douglas’ thought signature too – putting him right next to Arran on the list of suspended students.”

Arran looked away from Dominic’s rebuking brown eyes. He didn’t like Dominic upset with him, but he still felt compelled to share what would only do the opposite.

“I think he knows my psychic profile.”

“What-how?” Dominic asked, his irritation shading into anger.

“He just called me an Innocent.”

“Like, just like that?”

“He called me a fucking Innocent.”

“Oh,” he said looking a little calmer, “I think that’s just him insulting you. He says that to a lot of people he doesn’t like – and you just made the list on your first day.”

Dominic might’ve had a good point, Arran thought, and he wished he could’ve been convinced of it. But Dominic didn’t hear the way that Douglas spoke – the bold-lettered way he made Innocent sound – as if he were hanging a threat on it.

Dominic picked up on Arran’s silence: “What, you really think he actually went into your memory and saw your marks?”

“I don’t know…he was there long enough, I think.”

“Wait, now I’m confused,” Oliver laughed, “Your genome’s been engineered, so it’s not even possible for you to be an Innocent…I think Dom is right on this one. Douglas just wants to get back at you.”

Arran shook his head. “Yeah, you’re right; I don’t know,” he shaped a smile at Oliver. “The whole thing just made me nervous I guess.”

Oliver returned the smile. “Yeah, Douglas in my mind would do that to me too.”

Laughing with Oliver, Arran caught Dominic looking at him with knowing eyes, showing a hint of concern. Other than Eloise, he was the only one that knew his secret.