9:00 p.m.
Evening Program: Introduction to the Vault, Goliath Building
Before Dez can nudge Simon with raised eyebrows about theCoupling Ritual, Zarlengo bellows from his dais.
“Someone else!” He stares at the ceiling of the lecture hall, emblazoned with the school’s monogrammed logo. “Anyone else! Two types of students! This is not a trick question.”
“The two types of students,” says a woman with long red hair in the back row, “are those who think in words and those who think in images.”
Zarlengo stops pacing. Is silent for a moment. It gives Dez a chance to breathe.
Words and images. She’s never thought about classifying her thoughts in this way. She isn’t immediately sure which one she is.
“Two tracks at this institution,” Zarlengo says, holding up two fingers. “Those who think in words are ourScribes. These students enter the screenwriting track.”
Dez watches students shift in their seats, considering if this term refers to them.
“Those who think in images,” Zarlengo continues, “are ourVisionaries. These students enter the editing track.”
Dez does all of the above and more on her films. She looks around the room, wondering how anyone can be only one kind of artist. But here, in just a moment it seems, she and everyone else in this room will be juxtaposed as one type of person over another, in a more or less permanent way.
“What about directors?” someone asks from the front of the room. “I’m a real Scorsese nerd and I came here to pursue—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Zarlengo puts his hand up with a cold smile. “Dr. Moriah is our school’s director. Its only director. And regardless of what you came here thinking you would ‘pursue,’ you are not in charge. Acheron is not like other institutions. We have strict policies on everything from your course of study to your communications, on and off this campus.”
Dez’s fingers curl around her folder, bending it in half, remembering what Yael said about the phones, about the outside world. She needs to be able to talk to and visit her family. Rafe promised her she would.
“You’ve just left a world wholly dependent on this type of ‘connectivity,’” Zarlengo continues. “You’re entering a world wholly independent of it.”
He puts his hands on either side of his podium, casts his gaze around the room.
“While I’d prefer you approach your studies in an open spirit of learning for learning’s sake, I know that many, if not all, of you want to know what happens after your last year. What will Acheron do to get you gainfully employed?”
Dez leans forward, hanging on his words. This is why she’s here—to learn, yes, but also to set herself up for the future.
“If I tell you,” Zarlengo says, “that we have aone hundred percentsuccess rate at securing gainful employment for our graduates, will you exhale and allow yourself simply to learn and perform? Because it’s true. Dream jobs await each of you.”
The lecture hall collectively exhales. Zarlengo drops his voice.
“Very soon, you will not find yourselves sitting in classrooms. Instead, you’ll learn by doing. And you’lldowhat we direct you to do. Each of you has already been placed into one of two filmmaking categories according to your innate predilection. No request to be reassigned will be entertained. Am I clear?”
