INITIATION ULTIMATE, Chapter 11.1: Narrated by Tharseo

A darker chapter, how Tharseo goes to the Initiations.

            "4801195," the doctor repeats.  "That's your identification number.  Not 4444444."

            I regard her with a sideways look.  I have always known about the cover up of my identification, but what I hadn't known was that anyone outside my family knew it.  My parents and Ionracas were always careful to conceal my true number from me, so that if anything was to happen, my lack of awareness about my identification would protect me.  "So, who am I, Doctor?"

            "Do you really want to know?" the doctor asks me.

            "If you can."

            The doctor touches a panel on the wall, and a screen envelops her in light.  "Everything you need to know is here," she says calmly.  There's something in her eyes and in her voice.  What is it?  Pity?  Sadness?  Fear?  But why?

            Her tone concerns me.  "I'd think you would be punished, if you would show me this," I say.        

    The doctor shakes her head.  "My orders come from my superiors, Tharseo.  And... you asked for it."

            With these words, my mind flicks back to the dream I had last night, where I was being cornered by the starving people who were about to shoot me.  "Well, you asked for it," the starving girl tells me.  I push the thought away, and step into the light.  Reality fades away, and soon I am standing in the past.

           

            4801195.  The number, my number, is written in red print across the top of the screen of light, and I run my fingers across it.  With my touch, the number ripples away, revealing a list of data.  It shows the date I was born, March 16th, and the date that I died, which is the same.  Underneath my birth and death date, there's the reason, "Died eight hours after birth."  To the side of that note, there’s another that writes, “That's a false claim.  Instead of dying, and his death triggering the brain chip to report him as dead, the brain chip was altered 8 hours after birth to conceal identity.  As soon as we lost contact with the chip, the host was reported as dead.”

My history is written at the bottom of the screen, next to a black and white scan of my brain.  In the center of my brain, there's a small cube.  This must be my brain chip.  When did they scan me?  During the testing?

  I read my history.  “Believed to be a pawn of the defecting Team Delta 2A Hassium Creatorians during the Rochester Square Scandal.  Was found at age 10 living with his parents, two Delta 2A Hassium Creatorian rebels.  Parents were disposed of in an execution mission by the Team Beta 5A Hassium Creatorians.  4801195 was experimented on alongside Ionracas Kinlan and was allowed to escape for further research after parts of his brain chip were reactivated (the rest was corrupted beyond repair).  The brain chip's repair failed three hours after reactivation, and 4801195 was again believed to be dead.  He was rediscovered by the Technetium Creatorian Team Alpha 2B on Dec. 30^th, three years after supposed death date, on the day of the Naming Ceremony.”

            Upon reading this, thoughts fly through my mind.  My parents are both Creatorians, but they never talked about their profession near Ion or me… They must have done something with my brain chip.  What even is the importance of a brain chip?

            Underneath my history, it shows a link for immediate family, and I click it.  The names of Ionracas Kinlan, Cre. Damian Kinlan, and Cre. Jacquelle Kinlan appear on the screen, one by one.  I select my brother’s name.       

Scanning through the introduction, I see his birth date:  Sept. 22^nd.  Like me, Ion has a note written about an altered brain chip.  Unlike me, he never fully disappeared from the system, so they were able to track his location for a large part of his life.  I learn the reason for Ion’s death; he had died in an experiment to test the impact of certain chemical emotions on his brain chip to see the ways it had been altered by the Hassium rebels.  So all the pain he had went through on his last day - it had all been for an experiment.  My brother was innocent, I always knew he was.  How dare they kill him for that, why not study him alive at least?  Of everything he had deserved, it was not this!  My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and a dull ache below my sternum makes me feel as if I am empty.  Blinking, I force myself to calm down.  I won't help anyone by panicking.

On Ion's profile, there are pictures, as well.  One shows Ionracas at maybe seven years old, giving a wide grin.  He’s missing his two front teeth, and he holds a plastic soccer trophy high in the air.  Another picture shows him at about ten or eleven, running from a puppy version of Zulu, eyes wild.  A third picture shows him in the Initiations.  He has dirt on his face and his stance is proud.  In front of him is a huge wooden structure, and on top, a stranger boy balances precariously, giving Ion a worried look.  

One thing I notice about these pictures is that they only show Ionracas up to his time in the Initiations.  Was communication with his brain chip lost after that point?  The only pictures after that show him not too long before his death.  Two of these pictures catch my eye.  In the first, Ionracas shakes hands with a Japanese official.  The official is surrounded by bodyguards, whereas unarmed Ion is surrounded by his classmates, who are all clapping.  This must be during his exchange trip where he had bought me a katana!

In the next picture, Ion is driving.  On his coat, he still wears a Japanese name plate.  He has his right hand on the control yoke of his hovercar, and his left hand in the air, as if he’s trying to swat something.  His eyebrows are drawn together, and his mouth is twisted in frustration.  His hazel eyes glare straight at the camera, distracted.  Whatever has been taking his pictures he has seen, and he's not too happy about it.

 

Suddenly, the light screen disappears.  The doctor again is standing in front of me, finger on the panel.  “Why did you turn it off?” I ask irritably.

“We have an offer for you.”  Four men in protective suits enter the room and position themselves behind the doctor.  “If you accept, you will have access to all the information that you want.  You will have a life of fortune and promise.  You will finally understand your past.  The reason we are asking you is because of your intelligence and talents.  We know that if you wanted to, you could help us to build the world.  Tharseo Kinlan, will you join us and become a Creatorian?”

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime!” Ion explains to me enthusiastically.  “I tried so hard for a Creatorianship.  I was at the top of my class!  I still don’t understand why I haven’t been chosen!”

“Tharseo Kinlan, will you join us and become a Creatorian?” the doctor’s voice echoes.

“Please!  We didn’t do anything, we don’t know anything!”

 

Like a tidal wave, every memory of my parents’ death, Ion’s death, and my time in Creatorian control crashes down on me at once, leaving me overwhelmed and underwater.  Slowly shaking my head, I take a step backward.  No!

 

“I am not an equal to a thirteen year old bloody peasant!”

“Run, 444!”

“I will give you one last chance.”

“Have you killed me, officer?  Have you killed me?  Answer!”

“You’re in no condition to duel me.  Do you have any idea what you look like?  You’re pitiful!”

“No!  Please stop, sir!  He’s just ten!  He doesn’t know anything… Stop it!  If you’re going to hurt anyone, hurt me!  Please!  444…  Please, sir!”

“Ionracas!  Take 444 and run!”

“Dad..!  Mom!  Noooo!”

 

Get out of my head, get out of my head!  The overwhelmed shake of my head grows violent as I try to knock the voices away.  Get out of my head!  Get out of my head!  Get out of my head!

“Do you need time to decide, Tharseo?” the doctor asks calmly.

“No!” I manage to shout.  “No!  Never!  I’d never serve the Creatorians!  To even think..!  And don’t ever call me Kinlan!  I am just Tharseo!  Tharseo!  Got it?  And, I repeat, never!  Not in an eternity!  Leave me alone!  Leave me alone!”

Get out of my head, get out of my head!

Get out of my head!  Get out of my head!

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!  GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

 

            “Put him to sleep,” I hear the doctor say, and something hits the ground beneath my feet.  The familiar tendrils of gas emit from the object, surrounding me.

            “You did drug my food, cowards!” I shout as I beat the voices out of my head and watch the doctor, today’s sampler, plummet to the ground.  The room sways around me, and I lose my balance, stumbling to my knees.  I fight the fog for as long as I can, amazed and terrified that I have lasted this long while the doctor is already immobile and unconscious.  The four men in protective suits continue to hold their ground, watching as my periphery closes around me.  “Cowards,” I choke out before being swallowed by darkness.

            In that brief moment when my other senses are beginning to fade, one of the four men speaks.  “We’re going to do a memory wipe on the boy right here.  You two, quickly take this doctor to the Recovery, and tell that trainee...whatshisname...ah, Akili Cooper, to revive her.  Then, return and help us.”

 

___

 

            I don’t stay unconscious for long, and it takes all four guards to hold me down as they gas me again into unconsciousness.  I snap awake from this dose as well, just like I did in the Honor Court basement.  Even when they give me the memory wipe, I’m fully conscious, and it doesn't work on me either.

            Eventually, I’m locked away in my room, where I sit and rot in the days leading up to the Initiations.  It’s obvious that they still want me alive, the way they keep trying to persuade me to join them.  Since I now refuse to eat, sampler or not, I am also gassed every day so that liquefied food can be forced through a tube down my throat in the few moments of unconsciousness.

            When they finally decide that I’m not worth the trouble, they still don’t kill me.  They put me in a helicopter and ship me off into the Island Initiations along with some other troublemakers.  Somewhere in their twisted Creatorian minds is the idea that one day I will become so desperate that I will have no choice but to turn to them.  Well, here’s the thing.  One day, I will be so desperate that I will die and return to my family.  I’d rather do that than work for these immoral murderers.

Author's Note

I feel like this isn't very clear. Any questions that I could explain better?

On a different topic, on that one Kabalarians website, they have Tharseo's name now. Some of his bullet points include...
- Your intense mental activity spoils system and concentration, and plays havoc with relaxation and sleep.
- Acting on impulse instead of with forethought has led to many disappointments and bitter experiences.
- You cannot find peace of mind or lasting contentment in anything you do.

Do I agree? I don't know. About looking up Talaimai and Ionracas's names, their supposed personalities are totally switched. I think this philosophy only works for real people, and I still don't know if I believe in it or not.