28 June 2011 at 23:11

Plaf

Plaf

Plaf

In a small, dingy flat, close to the lower town, flesh could be heard being shaken by the furious blows of a fist covered by a metal glove.

Plaf

Plaf

Plaf

—Please... Please... Stop.

An emaciated looking man lay on the ground, blood leaking from his eyes from the pain and blood dripping from his nose.

On top of him lies a young man dressed in a dark green sports outfit. A scarf of the same color covers his mouth and nose.

—I'm not going to stop until you tell me who is behind what happened on the 21st.

Plaf

Plaf

Plaf

Plaf

—I… —I don't know.

Plaf

—Bullshit! —The boy replied angrily as he hit the man again. The latter laughed between groans due to the pain in his face.

—And they call you a hero? You monster! 

The boy's face twisted, and he started punching him in the face again.

Plaf

—THAT DOESN'T MATTER TO YOU!

Plaf

The man's face, now unconscious, was covered in blood, as was the boy's metal glove. The latter was breathing heavily. His eyesight gradually blurred until he fell completely into darkness.

A delicate voice sounded in the dense darkness. It said "Save me, please".

July 1, 2011

Philip slowly opened his eyes. He was sleeping on the sofa in the living room of his flat. He was wearing a green sports outfit somewhat stained with blood, as was the thick metal bracelet on his right wrist. With a bit of a headache, he got up and took off those clothes, leaving them lying on the floor. He stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water.

As he got out, he looked in the bathroom sink mirror at his bruised and scarred body, which he had been used to seeing for some months. His teacher told him they were the after—effects of someone seeking to do heroic deeds, although he was sure that the worst after-effects were psychological. He dried himself off and went to his room, where his school uniform awaited him: brown shoes, white shirt, black trousers and jacket.

After making himself a cup of coffee, he returned to the living room, where he turned on the television. The morning news was on:

["Dozens of protests were registered throughout the city in response to the central government's failure to intervene. Every night, there are one or more incidents involving psychics and/or special abilities.

Many people question the ability of the Department of Dark Energy Containment to stem this wave of violence and prevent another tragedy like the one that occurred on June 21st.

The mayor announced that as of tonight a curfew is in effect, supervised jointly by the Department of Dark Energy Containment and the police. The mayor reportedly asked the central government for support from the armed forces, but they rejected the request on the grounds that, according to the Dark Energy Users Civil Protection Act, the state gave the city complete autonomy to accept any psychi population it wanted, but that in the event of an emergency, it had the responsibility to resolve any incidents on its own. This has angered many citizens, who feel abandoned by the central government and at the mercy of the extraordinary psychi powers. Many of the protests that started raise the slogan of the approval of the controversial "dark reform", which consists of a strong control of the psychis' lives, limiting their individual freedoms"].

Philip sighed, got up from the sofa and pressed the button on the metal bracelet on his right wrist. A holographic screen detached from it.

—8:20, I'm going to be late.

She sipped her coffee, grabbed her bag and hurried out of her flat.

He jogged as fast as he could towards the high school, knowing that if he was late, the class manager would punish him. He looked at the holographic display on his wristband and verified that he would not be on time. It was already 8:50, 10 minutes before he had to be in class, and he was 3 kilometers away from the institute.

A motorbike slowly passed by, slowed down beside him, and the driver gently bumped the distracted boy's head.

—Ouch. That hurt, Clara —said Philip, turning around while rubbing the spot where he had been hit.

The driver, a girl dressed in the uniform of the same high school he attends, took off her helmet and waved at him. Her body is slim, of average height for a 17-year-old girl, brown eyes, somewhat broad nose and shoulder-length light brown hair, with a lock tied back by a pink ribbon.

—Late on the last day before the holidays? Do you want to face George's wrath again? —Clara said in a mocking tone as she tapped the back seat of the bike.

—Do you have an extra helmet?   

—Of course —she said with a small smile.

Philip got on the bike after Clara handed him a helmet that she kept under the seat. She drove fast. He held Clara's waist to avoid falling off, and she made a strange noise.

—What's wrong? —he asked in his sleepy voice.

—Nothing! What's wrong with you? You look pretty bad.

—I stayed up all night playing video games.

Clara coughed, and her voice became more serious.

—If there's something bothering you, please tell me. We're all worried, since that day you....

He glanced to the side, the trees that make up a huge reservoir speeding past his emotionless eyes.

—There's nothing to worry about. I promise.

—All right —she said before sighing. By the way, will you come with me tomorrow to take some donations to the usual place? I'll buy you a coffee afterwards. 

—That's fine with me.

1 July 2011 at 9:05 a.m.

Philip and Clara arrived at the high school campus. An open area, surrounded by a reserve. Inside there are only three buildings: the school, the gymnasium and an old church with Victorian architecture. The other two buildings have a similar facade, but inside they are more modern.

They ran down the school corridor, lucky not to pass any teachers or caretakers. They entered classroom 12—B, followed by a priest carrying a book.

—Philip Mrown arriving on time, what a surprise. I was thinking about the punishment you'd get today. I guess it will have to wait until after the holidays.

—Good morning, George. I'm glad you're so mindful of me.

—Actually, I'm always counting down the days until I never have to see you again. This holiday is going to be a respite for me.

—Come on, George, don't be shy. I know you're going to miss me.

The priest sighed deeply. Philip took advantage of the man's distraction and made his way to his seat. Next to him, a somewhat scrawny boy with shoulder-length golden hair and huge dark circles under sky-coloured eyes waved at him.

—Hi, Bill. You look terrible as usual.

—You have no right to say that to me today. Did something happen?

Philip grimaced nervously. Bill bowed his head.

—You know. I'm still looking for even the slightest clue as to what happened on the 21st.

—You still can't find anything?

Philip bites his thumb in frustration. Bill nods at this expression and speaks to him again.

—I understand. About what you asked for, I found something.

—Really?

His eyes regain a little sparkle.

—You'll have to wait until lunch. Wait for me in the cafeteria.

—Hey, at least give me an adva…

George, who was taking attendance at the time, stood up in front of the class and said in a heavy voice, —Your teacher is ill, so today's class will be taught by me. Open the text your teacher asked you to bring, we will read it, and then you will do some activities based on it—.

In the background, the wailing of the students could be heard. The man didn't seem to care much, he took the book he had brought, opened it halfway and began to read.

—"There is no work of human achievement that has not first been forged in a person's mind, and he has transformed his desire into an act for its realization by setting his will in motion".

As George read, sleep and the tiredness that had built up in Philip's body began to harass him. Gradually his eyes closed, but he could still hear what the priest was narrating. He lay back on his desk, hoping to fall asleep. George noticed this, but it was usual for him to fall asleep during lessons, punishing him was useless.

—"We have three powers: memory, intelligence and will, and all three are involved in the formation of the human act, the immediate antecedent of which is desire".

Philip's eyes closed, but George's voice continued to penetrate his consciousness.

—"Man is the true king of desires. The human being is a bundle of desires, in addition to the basic desires that his natural instinct determines, like every other animal in creation, the mind of man is a factory of desires, unlike that of any other being".

Philip gritted his teeth hard. He didn't want to hear any more of what George was reading. There was something about the story that fascinated and disturbed him at the same time.

Bill was a little concerned at the sight of his friend's face contorting, but knowing a little of the source of that behavior, he decided to let it go. It was something he had to deal with himself.

—"The aphorism says: To be is to desire. We can be sure, even if it is a redundancy, that the main desire of every human being is that all his desires be fulfilled. Man is born, lives and dies by his desires, by the transformation of all his desires into realities".

Philip covered his ears with his hands and lost himself in his subconscious.

July 1, 2011, at 12:15

It was time for lunch. Philip went ahead to the cafeteria to wait for Bill, who had something to do in another class. As he made his way down the hallway, a rush of people ran over him. They were students rushing to get to the cafeteria line first. He was pushed by the wave of hungry people against the wall of the hallway. He braced his arm against the wall to avoid being crushed. When the rumbling of the hallway ended, he stood there for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. At that moment, a thin thread of a voice was heard below his line of sight. When he looked down, he saw a boy younger than him, thin and black-haired. He recognized him instantly.

—Hi, Zac —he said. Without moving an inch.

—Hmm... Hi. —Zac replied, ducking his head sheepishly.

—Leave him alone —a voice sounded from behind him. When he turned around to see who it was, there was a boy about his height, but with a more muscular build. He grabbed her arm.

He knew him well; he was the former high school bully.

—Good morning, Ethan. I'm not bothering your protégé, I was just saying hello.

—Stop talking bullshit! Let's go Zac. Nothing good comes out of hanging out with this guy.

—Emmm hmm... Ok —said Zac nervously. He said goodbye to Philip with a little bow and started to walk away from Ethan, who was already walking down the long corridor.

—Wait Ethan!

Philip shouted, and the boy replied in an indifferent voice without turning around.

—What?

—Did your father tell you anything about June 21st? —he asked. This time in a serious voice.

—Apparently they found something in the crater, but he couldn't tell me what it was. There's not much more I can do.

—Thank you, that's enough.

Philip started walking back towards the cafeteria. As he passed the corner of the hallway that divided the classrooms of the special building, he felt a glance at his back. He turned and, from a classroom door several feet away from him, a girl with Asian features and very long hair was faintly visible. She quickly ducked out of sight as he became aware of her presence. He ignored her and continued on his way.