hunt

There were three cracks on the screen, a set of triplets, mothered by a now fractured hand belonging to a feverish Dreamcatcher. Some seven odd decades ago dreamcatchers were just a decorative ornament believed to protect their owner from their fears. Now, they’d mutated into a career. A career not practiced by choice but out of desperation. And desperation is what had birthed those three cracks, now glowing a luminescent blue. She had not meant to do that but damage to property is almost always an inevitable byproduct of rage. And it’s always worse when that rage is fuelled by frustration. But this was the least Maya could do. She’d known the consequences and had wilfully ignored them for her mother’s sake and that is precisely what had put her in this situation. She’d read that allowing herself to blow off a little steam from time to time was a healthy way to cope up with stress. But she doubted the veracity of that claim given how rage vandalism wasn’t exactly beneficial to anyone at all. All it has done was add on to her ever-growing list of issues. Maya stared at her broken screen, trying to use her non-existent telekinetic powers willing to fix itself, as she waited outside her counsellor’s office. It was a perfectly ordinary waiting room with the right number of chairs placed at a sanitarily comfortable, yet socially intimate distance and everything was color coordinated in a nice emerald hue which made the room rather aesthetically pleasing. The only irritation was that the air-freshener changed it scent every 7 minutes and after sitting there for nearly an hour, it was giving her a headache. She waited for her name to be called out as she tapped her foot impatiently, as though the faster she tapped, the faster the hands on the clock would tick by. “You’re going to have to get that fixed before you leave tomorrow. “ Startled by the voice, Maya looked up to see her counsellor leaning on the doorframe, his head tilted slightly. She immediately thought he looked like someone from an old show she’d watched as a child. She couldn’t remember his name but there was something in the manner of his posture that reminded her of him. Tall and lean with a pair of circular, gold rimmed glasses, he looked exactly like what one would expect a Counsellor to look like. Maya stood up, wincing as a sharp pain pinched her middle finger, “I can see everything on it just fine, they’re just cracks. And besides, I don’t have the time to fix this screen now. I leave tomorrow. “ The counsellor smiled and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “ I wasn’t talking about the screen. “ he said. He motioned for Maya to follow him. “I was talking,” he continued, as he walked back into his office “ about your hand. You seem to have broken it. It was a very dumb thing to do,” his voice turning slightly judgmental, ” but I can fix it for you and it’ll only take about 10 minutes. Sit down, please. And while I fix this, you are free to ask any questions you have about your assignment tomorrow. “ As she entered the room, she was a bit taken aback by the fact that his office looked quite different from what she’d expected it to look like. It was all cozy and tangerine, a soft sugary scent lingered in the air and the walls were covered by shelves that seemed to hold all the books in the world. It felt more like an Advisor’s office than a Counsellor’s. Maya walked over to the little machine he’d pointed to and sat down on the chair in front of it.

Ask any questions you might have oh sure why not how about what do I do if I don’t want this anymore and what are the consequences of running away from the Academy and is it possible to erase this annoying red line on my wrist so that an impromptu and unwilling declaration of my abilities doesn’t put me in life threatening danger can you answer that for me please Maya took a deep breath and pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind. She watched as he methodically fiddled with the wires and tried to think of a question, he could answer for her. “ I know what I have to do tomorrow. I want to know why I’m doing it. “ “ You’re doing it because you signed up for it. “ He answered without looking up at her and switched the machine on. It sent a little zap into her hand, giving her a shudder. He gave her an apologetic smile and went back to twiddling with his wires. “No, I meant...,” she was going to have to word this carefully, she realized,” Isn’t this basically prostitution of thoughts, in a way and fr– “ “You are going to have to learn to be careful about what you ask.” He interrupted; his brows furrowed in concentration. An austere sort of grimace had taken its place and for a moment she was confused. He pointed to a small, spherical shell on his desk. A chill ran down her spine as realization dawned on her. She looked back at the Counsellor only to find his eyes mirroring the fear in hers. But before she could say anything else, he placed his finger on his lips and his hand on her shoulder. Softening his eyes, he said “My dear, not so long ago, humans were so limited by their fears that even the brightest couldn’t be all that they could be. This frustrated us and we found a way out. That is all there is. Hardly prostitution, my dear. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather get back to some work. This will be over in about three minutes and you’ll be free to leave then. “ And that was it. No more questions. Nothing. The metallic hum of the contraption filled in the silence for the remainder of their session. After she was gone, his eyes lingered on her portfolio. As he scanned through the pages, one thing became increasingly clear. She’s going to be trouble, a little to fiery for this job. She’s lucky if she makes it through two weeks. Now where does this wire go ...