We regret to inform you that you are no longer eligible for consideration for the Touchpoint events. While your scores have been exemplary, your disability prevents us from considering you further…
Blah. Blah. Blah. There were a lot more words, but they boiled down to one thing: damaged. I was too damaged to be worthy of Bonding with a Mageia.
The room was small, with just enough room for the single bed and a chest of clothes. Other than the Omada poster the walls were bare of decoration, the only light coming from a single bare bulb hanging overhead. It was fine with me. I’d never had much, other than what the military had given me, so the lack of adornment didn’t matter much.
Throw.Thump thump. Catch.
Throw.Thump thump. Catch.
As the hard rubber hit the plastered wall with force, it gave off a powerful vibration. My sensitivity to the vibrations was emphasized by my hearing loss. I could feel the vibration as the hard rubber hit the plastered wall and spread throughout the room. Thevibrations soothed me; they gave me something to focus on. My neighbors had given up complaining about the noise and requested a room transfer months ago, but I didn’t really care right now. They didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Especially not after all the time and effort I had put into my career as a Soma.
Despite finishing top of my class and excelling in training my superiors had told me that the fact I’d been turned down by three Mageia I had matched with, plus my hearing challenges, was reason enough to exclude me from participating in future Touchpoints. The decision virtually eliminated any possibility that I would find a Mageia to match with, sentencing me to a life of solitude, however short it might be.
I sighed. I’d known it was coming, or at least suspected, but had been hoping against hope for a miracle. I should have known better. I’d already used up my quota of miracles for a lifetime.
Throw.Thump thump. Catch.
Throw.Thump thump. Catch.
I’d been born in Alexandrian territory and had caught the Shaking Fever, a common childhood ailment. Or, at least, that’s what my parents had thought. I knew now it had been a lie, but they hadn’t. Shaking Fever itself was real, but the deaths it was supposedly causing were not.
The Illyrian doctors told me I really had caught the Shaking Fever, but the Alexandrians had used the opportunity to test my DNA for the potential to become a Soma. Like all other Soma children in Alexandria, I’d been surreptitiously given an injection designed to kill me. A nurse responsible for my care had taken pity on me and stolen me from hospital.
She had been able to give me an antidote that had saved my life, but not without complications to my hearing. I’d only been three at the time, so I didn’t really remember much. I wasn’t completely deaf, but the world of Somas didn’t make those distinctions. What I was able to hear tended to be things in the lower registers. Someone had described it once that I was hearing as if I were under water, most sounds muffled. Every day sounds escaped me. Speech was a babble of noise I could only make sense of by reading lips, and I couldn’t hear music, though I could feel the vibrations sounds made.
Music was what I missed the most; I dimly remembered the sounds of my mother playing on their piano and had often wondered if she was still alive. I didn’t remember much about her, beyond her music. I recalled a sweet-faced woman with blonde hair and gray eyes, but it had been so long that I wasn’t sure if what I remembered was real, or something made up by the imagination of a lonely child. I would have given a lot to be able to hear those notes play again.
I yawned and stretched, trying to shake some energy into my body. I’d been having dreams for a solid month or more that involved a man with brown hair shot with honey gold, and bright blue eyes. I wondered if this might bemyMageia, out there somewhere. I could never really make out his other features, but I remembered the feelings the dreams had engendered: protectiveness, love, a sense of belonging. All things I had been missing in my life.
The overhead light flicked on and off and I sighed again. I’d rigged the light to the doorbell to let me know when someone rang it. Catching the ball a final time I stood and went to open the apartment door, though I knew who it would be.
Dagan stood at the door, his uniform crisp and perfect, just like the man himself. I still wondered why Dagan bothered to spend time with me, even after all these years. He had befriended me when we had met during Soma training and was my best friend. Okay, he was myonlyfriend.
Ready to go?He signed, his hands and face full of the friendly energy that had won Rhuyin over so long ago.
I nodded.
Not that I see the point, I signed dispiritedly.
Dagan rolled his eyes.
You know as well as I do that there are a shit load of new Mageia being smuggled out of Alexandria,my friend responded encouragingly. Maybe one of them will be your match.
When pigs fly,I signed back, adding a rude gesture at the end.
Dagan rolled his eyes again. We’d been having this argument for years now. Dagan was sure that there was a purpose to everything and that my Bonded was out there, just waiting to be discovered. My pessimism should have prepared me for the SearchCommittee decision, but I’d been blindsided, nonetheless. The notification had arrived the day before, and I hadn’t found a way to break the news to Dag that I was barred from participating in both today’s Touchpoint and all events in the future.
Despite my hearing challenges, I had matched with several Mageia since graduation, but each time there had been another Soma that matched as well and in Illyria, it was Mageian’s choice. When they found out about my hearing challenges the Mageia had chosen the other person. Every. Time.
I understood it, I suppose. Who would want to be Bonded to a Soma with such a significant vulnerability? How would they trust me to protect them? A Soma’s whole purpose in life was to guard and protect their Mageian. Somas needed to be able to usealltheir senses to protect their Bonded. You wouldn’t send a one-handed man off to war, why send a handicapped Soma? Mageia were just too precious of a resource to be wasted on a Soma with such a significant handicap. Or, at least, that is what everyone in my life had told me, except Dagan. No one had ever believed in me like Dagan did.
I was attending this Touchpoint only because I’d been ordered to assist with logistics for the event. Someone had to track the results, make sure everyone was lined up appropriately, that everything was kept in order. I’d performed the support task many times as a cadet but had hoped I’d put the endless paper pushing behind me once I graduated.
I took the chance to sneak a glance at my friend. I hadn’t told Dagan yet about my disqualification because I knew he would pitch a fit over it, and I was justdonefighting the system that seemed designed to exclude me at every turn.
As a Soma with a disability, I hadn’t been required to train to someday protect a Bonded Mageia, but I’d fought tooth and nail for the opportunity. I’d hoped that if I pushed myself, excelled in everything, the Search Committee would overlook my challenges and see what I might offer.
Years of hard work had paid off and I’d grudgingly been given the opportunity to participate in Touchpoints with the rest of his class, regardless of how unlikely it was that any Mageia wouldbe wanting to Bond with a hard of hearing Soma. Before the new War Leader was appointed I probably would never have been presented to a newly discovered Mageia at all. They were just too rare and valuable of a resource to “waste” on someone like me.
