“I called my dad last night,” Jackson adds like he regrets it. “I was worried about you. So I asked him to tell me everything about the academy.”
“What did he say?” I ask.
“He told me to stay out of it. Stayawayfrom it.” Jackson looks at me pointedly. “And that’s pretty strange. Something really fucking weird is going on here.”
His words are frightening, and I turn back to look at the academy. The iron gates surrounding the property. The bars on the windows. The mountain looming behind it, isolating us.
“Canyoutell me what’s going on?” Jackson asks. “I need to know.” And there’s a flash of vulnerability in his expression, although I can’t place why. After all, he seems to know more about my school than I do.
“They give us vitamins every night,” I say. “I stopped taking mine on Friday. And last night, I opened one of the capsules, and it was filled with metal. Silver dust.” I furrow my brow. “And the dust moved—like a magnet.”
Jackson’s eyes widen.“What?”he asks.
“The other girls have taken it, and it made them forget things.”
“Jesus,” he murmurs, running his hand roughly through his dark hair. “Is it like mind control or something? Like...” He’s searching for an answer. “Like nanotech?” he asks.
I’m deeply confused. We’ve definitely never been taught about this stuff in school.
“I’m not even allowed to use a computer,” I tell Jackson. “So I have no idea.”
He snorts a laugh. “Yeah, well, theoretically, and don’t quote me on this, but if you ingested biomedical nanotech—if that’s what it was—it would spread to your cells. Replicate the healthy cells for your organs. It could heal illnesses, cuts, and bruises.”
I’ve always been very healthy—all the girls have. Our vitamins are tailor-made for each of us. So... does that mean our vitamins work, after all?
“Should I keep taking them?” I ask.
Jackson widens his eyes. “No! Of course not. Mena, that tech is also spreading to your brain, and each of those tiny particles contains a pulse, somethingpurposelyincluded. Those pulses would then be interpreted as... ideas. So, yeah—my bet is mind control. And again, this is only in theory because, up until now, I didn’t think this shit existed beyond what I’ve read on the internet.”
I’m not sure if it exists. But I did see the silver dust in that vitamin. It wasn’t like anything I’ve seen before. I can’t willingly ingest any more until I have a better idea of what it does to me.
“Who are you parents, Mena?” Jackson asks again. “They have to be important people to send you here. To do this kind of stuff to you. Who are they?”
His questions are suddenly more alarming. Quickly, I try to call up information. I tell him my father is a lawyer and my mother is a philanthropist. But the more Jackson presses me (Where did they grow up? When were they born? Who are your grandparents?), the more I realize I don’t know all that much about them.
Panic rises in my chest, making me feel overwhelmed. Where are my parents? Why haven’t they called to check on me? Why have they abandoned me here?
Jackson furrows his brow, watching me. “I’m sorry,” he says. I brush off his apology, sniffling before any tears can fall. We sit quietly until I can calm myself again.
“You mentioned an... analyst?” Jackson says after a moment. “What’s that? What does he do?”
“He helps us control our impulses,” I say.
“My guess is he’s doing more than that,” Jackson says. “They’re manipulating you somehow, with the vitamins, through him—I don’t know. I think you should leave. I think we should go right now.”
I look at him, surprised. “I can’t just leave,” I say. “What about the other girls?”
“Youallneed to leave.”
“We... We can’t. Our parents—”
“I think they’ll understand,” he says, growing impatient. “Mena, this shit isn’t normal.” His voice gets loud, and I put my hand over his mouth, scared someone will overhear us. When I touch him, he freezes, staring into my eyes. And for a moment, I see... guilt.
Jackson slowly removes my hand, nodding an apology for losing his composure.
“Fine,” he says, looking away. “If you won’t leave, then we need to figure out what the academy is using you for. Can you get that kind of information?”
The question seems suddenly cold, businesslike. I wonder if I’ve offended in him in some way.
