INITIATION ULTIMATE, Chapter 9.1:  Narrated by Tharseo

INITIATION ULTIMATE, Chapter 9.1: Narrated by Tharseo

A Chapter by A.M. Victoria (LostWritings)

After already a long day, it's nighttime and time for testing.

    The door shuts behind me, and the click of a lock makes me wince. The first thing I notice beside the sensors on the wall is that the air has an electric feel, and I can hear the low hum of technology simmering around me. The room is very dry and smells of dust and cardboard, contrasting with the moist, fungal air of the court basement.  The floor beneath my feet is covered with layer upon layer of thick, blanket-like material, and whenever I step down, I have to fight to keep my balance. Anything like this must have been implemented to stop me from trying to run.  There’s no escaping this circular grey room.

            The lights dim around me, and a chill slithers down my back.  I don't fear the dark, but a lack of lighting means impaired vision.  I won't be able to prepare myself if anyone attempts to attack. There's one part of the room darker than the rest, and the contrast draws my attention.  Ionracas waves, eyes smiling, and the unexpected sight startles me, and I collapse to my knees, fists raised to block my head. Gasping, blinking, and shaking my head, my brother is gone when I look again.  He was just an illusion created by my paranoia, yet the memory plays with my sanity leaving me terribly unsettled.  I stand up, and a wave of doubt hits me.  I hope it was my paranoia, because anyone trying to use my dead brother to manipulate me is beyond redemption, and they would most likely be able to do horrible things without blinking an eye.

            A loud buzz draws my attention away from my uneasiness.  From the wall, a sensor emits a bright light, and a three dimensional yellow cube materializes in the center of the room.  Written in black writing, words ask, "Which image doesn't fit with the rest of them?  You have 10 seconds."  Underneath the words are three images:  a red bathrobe, a green syringe, and a white tub.  Red Robes, acid, warm water.  Fear, fear, relaxation.   I touch the bathtub.  Instantly, the words disintegrate from the yellow cube, and another question pops up.  "Create a square with black in the center.  You have 30 seconds."  Underneath, 16 small black, white, or half and half squares lay scattered on the cube in front of me.  I rush to sort them into a single square, and I have five seconds to spare when I finish.

            After that, a picture pops up on screen:  dozens of lines and shapes scattered together to form a meaningless image.  There are no directions present, so I keep my eyes on the screen, waiting.  After about a minute, the image fades and random colors of red, blue, and green begin flashing instead. Soon, these are replaced by a pure white screen.  Black lettering appears near the top of the screen:  "Use your pointer finger to redraw the original image."  Doing so, I become curious as my finger passes right through the light screen while I copy the image flawlessly onto the yellow cube.  Only after I press "next" do I realize that I shouldn't have given away my perfect memory.

            The testing takes nearly an hour, and my eyes are sore by the time the yellow cube disintegrates and the room lights flicker on.  "Nice job today, Tharseo," the doctor congratulates me.  "You’ve passed your first round of trials, and are now done for the day.  This is my assistant, Halcyon Travis of the Technetium Creatorians.  He will show you to your room for the night.  You will be reawakened tomorrow for some more testing, and we'll see from there which of the Initiations you are going to."

            Which?  What do you mean, which?

            "Hello," the doctor's black haired assistant greets me with a slight wave.  "Your room will be right this way."

            At least I know now that I'm not here to be eliminated.




            The windowless room that I am assigned is one of the most extravagant I've ever seen, bearing the finest Creatorian-grade materials.  Funny, because from the outside, the grey concrete building doesn't look worthy of carrying the luxuries I see.  Once the assistant locks me in, I begin a search for any hidden cameras that could be used against me.  Any that I discover, I plan to cover or destroy.

            While I'm searching for cameras, I'm also observing my new environment.  In the bathroom alone, there's both a shower and a hot tub.  A chandelier dangles over leather couches in the living room, and panels on the wall instruct me on how to turn on a light construct generator for entertainment.

            With no luck on my search, I decide to take it easy.  Taking a seat on the leather couch, I use the light construct generator to project a television in front of me.  Then, I scale it up until the screen is the size of the large living room.  I watch episodes of some shows I haven't seen in a while, such as a science fiction show that my dad was into, a medical show that Ion was interested in, and a drama that my mom would enjoy once in a while.  Not a single one makes an impression on me, and I don’t understand the drama in general, but all of them summon memories.  The medical show takes me back to Ion.  When he was fifteen, he had told me that he couldn't decide whether to be a doctor or an architect.  I want to build up the world, not tear it down, I remember him saying, his hazel eyes filled with enthusiasm as he helps my three year old self build a castle out of blocks.


            After the episodes end, I strip off the bandages on my wrist and take a shower.  My bruises and wounds look much better than earlier, and are already beginning to heal.  If not for spending an hour in the dark testing room looking at a bright yellow construct made of light, my headache would be gone as well.

Wrapped in a towel, I brush my teeth with the new toothbrush I've been supplied with.  A mirror hangs on the wall in front of the sink, and I use it to examine my face.  Still misty from the shower, I can’t distinguish the four pale scars on my cheeks, and I almost look like Ionracas without them.  That is, a younger, wary, blue eyed version of Ionracas with lighter colored hair and tired eye shadows.  The view makes me wonder: If Ion was still alive, he'd be twenty-five, and probably be living in that house that he had rented not too long before his death.  Maybe he’d have a better job and even a house on his own property.  Would he have found someone he cared about by now?  Would he have changed the world?  I'll never know, and it frustrates me. The United Fifteen didn’t only take away my parents and brother that day, they took away any future nieces and nephews I could have had, my feeling of security, my childhood, and my home.  At least Sofos helped me to me keep my soul.  Without him, I would have become like Red Robes or the High Judge, if not dead.  The High Judge tracing my scars...  The fog is fading from the mirror, and I can see the streaks now.  Definitely time to go.

            With a loathing sigh, I cloak myself in a navy blue bathrobe that hangs in the closet for me.  Out of all the clothes they could have given me, what compelled them to have chosen a robe?  I could wear my used clothing, but they’re streaked with bloodstains and thick with the smell of mold.  I suppose I can manage looking like Red Robes for one night as long as I don’t see myself.


            Resting is another matter.  As I toss and turn in a king-sized bed, thoughts race through my mind.  Are the Creatorians still trying to earn my trust using this room of luxury?  I would assume that any intelligent person would recognize that their efforts are futile.  Whenever I close my eyes, I fear the man with the knife that could come for me at any minute, the bomb that could be ticking quietly within my walls.  Who knows what defenses the room could be rigged with?  Instead of sleeping, I resort to staring wide-eyed at the ceiling with the lights on, trying to see everything around me until I overwhelm myself with thoughts.

            For my peace of mind, I go back to the light construct generator and find an illusion of a bell that will toll upon contact with solid matter.  It appears to be a solid, but I can tell it is a light creation because it shimmers in the dark and my nerves can’t distinguish it from thin air when I pick it up.   I also find that even when I cup my hands around the bell and smother it inside my robe, away from the outside world, it continues to glow brightly in the dark as if the wall sensors are not using light to create it, but something entirely different.

            Placing the bell construct in front of the door, I make it float so that contact with the ground won’t trigger the alarm.  This way, I can try to get some sleep without having to worry too much for my safety; if the opening door hits the bell, I will surely wake up.

In my room, my eyelids eventually grow heavy and begin to close.  I follow Ion to the river, Zulu close behind.  Ion gives me my new katana...

© 2013 A.M. Victoria (LostWritings)

Author's Note

A.M. Victoria (LostWritings)
Some days seem to last forever, especially when they're tough and exhausting. Like this one Search and Rescue Academy I went to. The first day lasted two years, the second one year, the third through sixth day one week each, and the seventh and eighth day only a few hours. Curious, the human perception of time.

In my novel, only one day has passed. Soon, the days will go by faster.

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Added on December 7, 2013
Last Updated on December 8, 2013
Tags: light creations, initiation, creatorian, tharseo, test, testing, iq

Initiation Ultimate


A.M. Victoria (LostWritings)
A.M. Victoria (LostWritings)

Once, when I was 12, I wrote a 365 page book. Then, it corrupted. So I rewrote it, and now it's even better than before. Some of my interests are archery, fencing, and the Civil Air Patrol. I als.. more..