INITIATION ULTIMATE, Chapter 8.1: Narrated by Tharseo

Testing begins.

 Hovertechnology replaced helicopters a long time ago for more environmentally friendly methods that would conserve fuel and save money.  It also replaced airplanes, cars, trains, and all sorts of transportation, to the point where the extremely wealthy build their homes in the sky, and all the other citizens that can afford homes have them on the ground with hoverdocks as roofs.  This said, being handcuffed and caged inside an ancient helicopter wasn't something I'd ever expected to do in my lifetime.

As the helicopter takes into the air, I realize that Sofos's small gifts to Amor and I are weighing down my pockets.  I'll have to give them to him later, if I ever see him again.  I worry for him, with his dark brown hair, dark eyes, medium build, and lazy personality.  His laziness is why he chose the value of love, by the way.  "You don't have to work hard for love," I can still hear him chuckle.  "You just feel it in your heart.  I can love the world and prove my value at the same time. There's nothing to it!"   His laziness made me fear for him.  I think he overlooked that "Amor" as a noun means "cupid" in several different languages, and I don't think that's the type of love he was looking for.  I also don't think he meant to choose one of the most ridiculously common names in Naming Ceremony history; such a name would have a chance of revealing the minute effort he'd spent thinking of it.  I'd hoped to see him before I left to make sure he had passed, but because of my predicament, I'll have to hope for the best.

I put more thought into my name, Tharseo.  It reflects courage to honor Ion, and it's Greek to honor Sofos.  Whenever I see my name, it brings up memories as expected.  They're memories of both Ion and Sofos together, like during training.  When Ion came back from the Initiations, he was 14 years old, and not too old to train with his two year old brother who could already speak well, read a little bit, and memorize everything he'd say (whether I understood it or not).  So when I think of my name, I think of foam sword fights in the living room, Sofos teaching us to throw ninja stars, and the look of surprise on Sofos's face as Zulu trots into our training tent pulling a homemade sled behind him, probably made by Dad.  Even though it's in the middle of summer and a rainstorm rages on outside, we cut training to have Zulu pull me, splashing, through the mud and puddles, chasing Ionracas as he runs, slips, and slides without the slightest coordination through the mud.  We only stop when lightning starts to crack through the sky like a light show of electric fireworks.  By then, we're painted brown from head to toe, and Zulu looks more like a muddy swamp monster than a husky.

The true meaning of my name isn't only courage, however.  Sometimes I find it ironic that the meaning is "good comfort, good courage, good cheer."  Good comfort and good cheer are two aspects that died for me a long time ago.  Sitting in my cage like an animal, I'm hungry with bruised wrists, a sore ego, and a headache. But I'm a kid who's not supposed to exist sitting in a machine that's not supposed to exist, and I'm flying to a destination where nobody else is meant to go.  My future seems bleak right now, but I must be worth something, and that might just save my life. After all, I'm not dead yet.   If things can get cleared up, maybe one day my comfort and cheer will rise from the dead and my life will get back on the right track.

***

With a rifle aimed at my head, my cage is unlocked and I'm ordered to get out of the helicopter.  Doing so, I observe my surroundings; it looks like I'm standing on a hoverdock that serves as the roof of a large, square building.  About 50 feet away, there's a concrete stairway that leads into the building.  With the rifle aimed at my back this time, I'm ordered to walk down the stairs.  Once the rifle-bearer and I are able to get through the door at the bottom, we walk through multiple hallways until I'm given the command to enter a room.

"Are you Tharseo?" a woman in doctor's attire asks me once I'm in the room.  

"That's my name," I confirm.

"Do you have a last name?"  The doctor's brown eyes focus on me as she waits for an answer.

I do have a last name.  Who doesn't?  But I don't use it anymore.  I carried my last name before my parents were shot and my brother was tortured.  Afterward, my life had changed, and it didn't seem right to for me to stay the same.  I disposed of the last name in order to protect both myself and the name's reputation.  "My name is just Tharseo," I tell the doctor.  I wait for her to force the my last name out of me, but instead she nods her acceptance and points to a chair for me to sit down in.

"You must be hungry," the doctor says.  "Let me patch you up a little, and I'll get you something to eat."

The officer force feeds me the pastry, and mist curls out from behind the yellow fungus...

"That won't be necessary," I say, though the thought of food makes my mouth water.

"Would you rather eat first before having me heal you?"

"That it won't be necessary," I repeat.

"Alright," the doctor smiles.  "It's your choice.  Do let me care for your wounds, at least."

"No thank you.  Just take the handcuffs off and I'll be fine."

"Okay."  To my surprise, the doctor pulls a key out of her white coat and unlocks the cuffs.  She doesn't even snatch them as they clatter noisily to the ground.  "Are you sure you wouldn't like healing and food?  We have a wide selection of meals in the cafeteria, and I could quickly order something up for you."

"I'll be fine."

She nods.  "I'll take your word for it.  But I must say that you have come quite early, and it happens to be my lunchtime.  I will dial something up for myself, and once I'm finished, we'll get to your testing."

Testing?

Without a further word, she pivots around and triggers a light display to shoot out of the wall and spread out around her.  She spends several minutes surrounded by the display, and when the lights finally collapse back into the wall, she turns to me.  "I ordered pizza, just in case."  When I stare at her warily without responding, she shakes her head.  "Oh, don't be like that.  You're so distrustful!  Loosen up."

Well, of course I'm distrustful.  Do I have a reason not to be?  Oh yeah!  Because nobody killed my parents, my brother and I were never tortured, I was never handcuffed and force-fed, and most definitely never shoved in a strange doctor's office without any knowledge of what will happen to me except "testing".  Yeah.  Maybe a little more trust would do me well, you think?

At my burning glare, the doctor turns away and starts removing bottles from cabinets and sorts them on the counter by the office sink.  She washes her hands and pulls on gloves, and I try to think of some random memory to get my attention away from the water.  I haven't had anything to drink since...yesterday, was it?  After quietly getting ready, I'd just hopped out the window and ran all the way to Sofos' hut.  To visit such a wise man wasn't too wise on my part.

A knock sounds on the door, and the person delivering the pizza enters and exits wordlessly without waiting for the door to be unlocked.  If it's that easy, it shouldn't be too hard to... No.  I don't want to be handcuffed again, when I've finally regained my status as a human and not the must-be-controlled animal the High Judge treats me as.

"You sure you don't want a slice?" the doctor calls, biting into her pizza.

I regard her with frustration as she eats.  I really do want that pizza.  Approaching her, I open the lid of the pizza box and point to another slice.  "That one.  Eat it."

"Oh, you want me to eat it?"  She plucks the slice out of the box, and I watch carefully as she swallows bite after bite.  Finally, I'm satisfied and I take a slice of my own.  I've halfway downed the slice when I feel eyes watching me, and I look up to see the doctor smiling.  After I shoot her another glare, she looks away.

Once we've both had our fill and I've been allowed to drink out of the sink, the doctor again washes her hands and fills her gloved palm with a clear ointment.  "Come here, and don't worry.  I made it clear with the superiors a long time ago that I wouldn't do anything immoral.  I just want to make sure your wounds are clean."

I let the doctor spread salve around my wrists and on the back of my head, which still feels bruised.  Once my wrists are wrapped lightly with bandages, the doctor leads me to a room with scanners all along the walls.  "Stand in the center of the room for testing," she tells me.  "Don't worry, it won't hurt a bit."