“I’m here today to talk to you about Nytes and Sector Eight’s precious High Council.” Ellis’s voice is so sickly sweet it makes me want to throw up. “Mainly, how the gifted were created from the Council’s experiments to make the perfect super-soldiers.”
Wait. What? Erik and I exchange a glance, but even without reading his thoughts, I know he doesn’t have any clue what she’s talking about, either.
“I’m sure you heard about our attack inside the sector a few months back. It was to put an end to the Councilors’ experiments and get the proof we needed of their guilt.” Ellis’s face is replaced by some kind of security camera footage. For some reason, my first thought is that it’s surprisingly high quality. The video shows a large warehouse interior-turned-lab with a handful of people in very distinct black starlight robes talking to one another—and in the bottom right corner of the video, there’s a date from almost twenty years ago, right next to the seal of the High Council.
The conversation of the Councilors is clear. “Sample pool? Can’t we just get some orphans and homeless off the street?” At the sound of his voice, my fist tightens. I recognize it from when I eavesdropped on two Councilors back in Central months ago. I never actually saw the Councilor’s face, but I’d recognize that nasal, self-important voice anywhere. Does this have to do with that conversation back then—the experiment and prototype they talked about?
“Tests indicate the results would be exponentially better if we could inject the serum while the child is still developing in the womb,” another Councilor says—the second Councilor I heard that day. Just like back then, her silky smooth voice gives me chills. Something instinctively saying not to trust her. “We’ll need pregnant mothers in order to get the best super-soldiers.”
The third Councilor, who I don’t know, sighs impatiently. “Just have some of our doctors enter the hospitals and slip it in like it’s normal medication. Best to try it on people in other sectors as well to prevent too much focus on Sector Eight alone. We can’t let the other sectors know about this. Everyone waged war on Sector Five just for suspecting they were breaking the treaty by developing guns. We’ll just need to keep careful records of all test subjects who receive the serum.”
“Understood,” the one doctor-looking person with the three Councilors says. “But, sir, are you sure about this? These are innocent mothers and unborn children—”
“Who are supporting Sector Eight and assisting in the advancement of protective measures against other sectors. Their contributions will be remembered.”
I can’t breathe. This can’t be real. It just can’t be. The Council is terrible, but there’s no way they would stoop to human experimentation. There’s no way they could’ve kept it secret for so long—no way they could’ve gotten enough people to agree to work on something like this. No. It’s impossible.
But it’s also impossible to not remember those two Councilors’ conversation I overhead all those months ago about getting the “demons” under their control.
The video cuts abruptly and shifts to another. The place is the same, but the date in the corner has skipped ahead about four years.
There’s chaos in the room as people scramble, checking computers and doing tests. The Councilors are back, storming down the aisle nearest the camera.
“What do you mean several of the test subjects have died?” Nasal demands of a different doctor-looking person than the one from the last recording.
“Sir, many of the subjects’ bodies couldn’t handle the strain of the serum’s effects as their bodies continued to grow—dozens, maybe hundreds have died already.”
“And the rest?”
“No obvious signs of change yet.”
“Keep an eye on them,” Don’t-Trust says. “Have our doctors announce that some new kind of degenerative disease that only afflicts children has appeared. We cannot let them know about the experiments.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My stomach drops to the bottom of my feet. The epidemic from sixteen years ago—the “disease” that even now still affects kids. The one everyone thought caused Nytes. The reason everyone called Nytes demons. It was all because the Councilors’ experiments failed.
Too many thoughts run through my head for me to keep up with any of them. Is this a joke? Just another trick by the rebels? But that Council seal—it’s authentic. That was definitely the warehouse we broke into months ago to investigate. And those were definitely the Councilors I eavesdropped on before. The same Councilors who’re ruling the sector now. That kind of video couldn’t have been faked so easily—could it?
What if it’s real? What if the reason the gifted are like this—the reason I’m like this—is just because the High Council wanted stronger soldiers? My mom’s life was ruined because of me. I ran away from her so I would stop bringing her heartache. I joined the military because I had nowhere else to go. For most of my life, I’ve done nothing but fight and scheme and learn how to get better at both those things. I’ve manipulated countless people to the point I don’t even feel bad about it anymore. I’ve watched my friends die. All because I was gifted. All because of the Council.
Ellis returns to the screen. Her hands are folded in front of her on the desk, the shadows over her face darker than before. “We destroyed all the serums located in the warehouse. The latest ‘prototype’ was designed to make Nytes obedient to whatever orders they were given.” Her mouth twists into a snarl. I have to hold back my own revulsion. “I’ve released the footage we stole from the warehouse to the sector’s network. You’ll also find the list of names of every test subject”—she says this with such scorn it almost cuts—“that was experimented on. You’re free to access these and analyze them however much you like, but I can assure you this: They’re real. Nytes are merely the results of the High Council’s whimsical experiments to strengthen the military.” She smiles grimly, like she knows a lot more that she’s not saying. It feels like my thoughts go blank as I suddenly realize what she’s doing. “That is all. I hope you have a pleasant day.”
The screen flickers and goes dark.
“That can’t be true,” Erik says. His voice is weak. “This is just one of Ellis’s plots—right?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“How do we prove it’s not real?”
“I don’t know if we can—the videos might be real. That might all be true.”
“Wait—what? You just said—”
“It’s a trap.” Seconds ago, it’s like my thoughts were wiped clean away by shock. Now, they’re running one another over so fast I can barely keep up. “The broadcast is just a distraction. Trist and the others—where are they?”
Okay, a little explanation would be nice right about now. “They should still be in a meeting with all the other leadership.”
“I’ll explain once we’ve got everyone together. We don’t have time to waste.” I swing my legs over the bed, but before my feet hit the floor, I hesitate. Am I really going to do this? What if I’m wrong? Even if I managed to get everyone to believe me, what if I’m just making another mistake?