1.1.1

A Sanctuary Disturbed

“This is bullshit,” Terrell groused over his serving of oatmeal. His umber hair stood on end, unbrushed. “What, they’re afraid a little meat might make us too exciteable?”

Astrid slid her eyes to the Guardians that took vigil over the dining hall. Thankfully, the din of dozens greeting one another drowned Terrell’s complaint.

“I can’t believe a lack of bacon with your breakfast is the biggest problem you have in life and you’re this irritated,” she replied.

Terrell’s energy always seemed a little edged. Teenagers struggled the most with their emotions, but like her, she considered him old enough to control his temper.

“We’ve got nothin’ but time,” he flippantly remarked. “Doesn’t it bother you to know this is how every Wednesday is going to be for the rest of your life? That doesn’t bug you?”

“You bug me.” She pointed her chin, with only the tiniest lilt on the edge of her mouth to imply she teased.

As far as Astrid could tell, if Terrell struggled with monotony, no relief for him lay on the horizon. Everything from their plain grey cotton uniforms to the undecorated cafeteria, halls, classrooms, and dorms, all reinforced the purpose of their internment: to make them obedient submissives.

She, too, assumed their boring cuisine served to keep their anomalous nature further restrained inside a mundane (and ardently regimented) lifestyle.

But neither a Channeler's nature, nor the restrictions it subjected them to, were voluntary. And Astrid maintained her peace by long ago accepting that which she could not control.

Willful naivety be damned, at least they were fed.

“I don’t understand how you can be so content," Terrell continued. "This is so tedious!”

Astrid shrugged. “You don’t know things are better out there. There’s probably thousands of people wishing their every meal would be provided for the rest of their lives.”

“You know, saying someone can’t be mad because someone else has it worse is like saying someone can’t be happy because someone else has it better.” Terrell scowled and flicked his eating utensil bitterly.

“And someone feeling proactive might consider taking a position in the kitchens more influential over his breakfast than grouching at me.”

He glared, unamused, from under umber brows. “You know, you are really starting to piss me off…”

Then, Terrell’s sentence, and tone, drifted. His eyebrows knit together, and he stared over Astrid’s shoulder.

She swallowed her bite, relieved for a moment's peace without his attention.

But with Terrell's body tensed and alert, the respite on her nerves abruptly passed.

“What is it?”

“Statics.”

The single word perked her attention. Astrid shifted in her seat.

Channelers transferred, or transformed, energy. They could feel it pass through them, and others. They felt it all around them, all the time, unable to turn the sensation off.

But Statics, humans without the natural aptitude, wore their vitality like a wild aura. Unable to control it, direct it, or even become aware of it, they unknowingly buzzed like white noise.

Astrid’s eyes locked on three unknown men, escorted along the edge of the cafeteria by the Keeper and a pair of Guardians. She could sense their subtle fizzle, even across the distance. All those close to the group turned, as if attuned to the intrusion like a ripple of stones cast into a smooth-flowing river.

At the front, a dark-skinned close-shaven man wore a stark charcoal uniform. His two companions bore foreign armor. Plates of polymer shell strapped over the thickened dark mesh of a second skin. Astrid spotted belts laden with pouches and strange tools. She couldn’t identify any weapons, but the sense of lethality that emulated from the pack sent the whole cafeteria to hushed whispers.

The older gentleman in uniform met her teal eyes, as if he sensed her pensive study, and Astrid returned her attention to her meal in a guilty flash.

“New Guardians?” Terrell speculated aloud. “They’re clearly not from around here.”

“No. Something else.”

“How can you tell?”

Astrid’s stomach squirmed. “You don’t feel that? They’re not afraid. They think they’re more dangerous than us.”

~~~

Not all Sanctuaries resided on the edge of controlled space. But Endra in particular bore no local colony outside with which to commune. The planet became a selected Sanctuary Site only, and specifically, for its meager daylight hours-- preferable, when trying to keep an energy-sensitive population subdued.

Yet, because of its wayward location, no one "happened upon" it with anything but direct purpose. The arrival of outsiders kept Sanctuary Endra and its residents both enticed and distracted.

Such an interruption to their predictable lives upended the status quo, and the instructors scolded more than one chattering class into submission while students tittered in vigorous debate.

“Did you see the shorter one? He was cute!”

“I wonder what they’re doing here. Do you think they brought in more Channelers?”

“Maybe. I haven’t heard of any new infants. I could ask Cecil.”

“But the Keeper was with them! They don’t give tours here, do they?”

“I’ve never seen an outsider before!”

The faculty mandated extra meditation sessions to combat the hype. And students were spaced further apart to discourage conversation. But Astrid found acknowledgement of the day’s peculiarity only exacerbated the issue.

For an institution rooted firmly in the regulation of emotion, Sanctuary Endra hummed.

Astrid pulled back her strawberry blonde hair, dulled to ashen pink by Endra’s limited sun exposure, to keep the static from finding purchase in its strands. It took many repetitions of the exercises ingrained in her to keep herself steady while pockets of excitement pricked at her peace.

Through classes and meditations, Astrid and the older students wrestled with disruptive eddies in the tide, while the younglings chittered in chaotic abandon.

The new faces did not reappear, however. And yet, by early evening, while the inhabitants of Endra took recess in its dusky courtyards, nearly a hundred Channelers, with their heads on swivels, leered at the exits in hopeful expectation.

Astrid grew anxious of the disturbance, especially for the teenagers and children. Her concern proved warranted when a young male, harried, burst through one of the yards looking for her by late afternoon.

“Astrid!” He panted and ran to her. She tensed when a couple Guardians turned to the ruckus.

“Finn? What is it?”

“Maya! She’s losing it. She needs help, come on!”

Astrid immediately abandoned her textbook and followed Finn back the way he’d come. She pointedly disregarded the Guardian that trailed after.

The pair jogged through the facility a few turns to find Maya, a dark-haired girl of only fifteen, sequestered in a linen closet. Over her head a light fitted into the ceiling sputtered in sporadic bursts while the youth clutched at her temples.

“Astrid!”

“I’m right here, Maya!”

Astrid pressed close and fought the wall of thick air that snapped around the young ward.

“I can’t… It’s too much. Everyone is being too loud!”

“I know, I know, it’s okay.” Astrid placed her hands over Maya’s to calm the swirling storm in her cranium. “It’s just me, okay? Focus on me.”

Brunette and strawberry blonde strands of hair danced together on an invisible charge as Astrid waded in. Finn remained a few steps behind to give them space.

“Settle it, Hale, or we’ll have to,” their accompanying Guardian warned.

Astrid recognized him, as she did all of them. But this one, Cole, never showed cruelty. His restraint provided a chance to self-moderate.

“Maya, it’s okay,” Astrid consoled. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. I know you don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“It’s so frustrating! I can’t calm down, I can’t! I just want to scream. Why can’t I scream?! Humans scream! We’re supposed to!”

Astrid laced an arm around her. “We can, but you need to calm down first. Calm down, and I’ll take you to the sensory room and you can scream your heart out, okay? But you have to calm down. You have to make it okay.”

But it only grew worse. Astrid remembered how infuriating it could be. To be a teenager, all hormones. Prohibited to express herself, to tantrum and rebel like everyone sometimes needed. It felt unfairly “inhuman” to demand less.

But Astrid wanted so badly to spare Maya what came next.

The girl cried, her energy peaked, and the light above them popped completely. Plastic and glass exploded over them like a firecracker, and the Guardian, Cole, could no longer, in good conscience, remain passive.