Penchant02 03

A Mind of Difference

“Five-two-four-seven-nine,” droned the pallid, systematic secretary without waiting for any acknowledgement. “Report four-B of Sector

By Sashrika Pandey, Jaime Wang, Athena Xue, and Fiona Zhao Sharp walls of granite stabbed into the sky, accented with rows of reflective windows. Inside the building, lines of identically furnished minimalist offices stretched on in every hallway, each office housed by a middle-aged man in the same gray suit and taupe tie, tapping away systematically at a glowing computer screen, expressionless. At the end of a hallway in the east wing, in an office only slightly larger and slightly more decorated than the rest, sat a man in a dark suit and stiff posture. He looked quite a bit like the other office workers, except for a few key differences that would have went unacknowledged to the casual observer.

One, his whole appearance wasn’t as systematic as everyone else’s. His hair was slightly more tousled, his suit had a few wrinkles, and even his movements were quite a bit more fluid compared to that of the other workers. But that wasn’t the difference that made him completely and utterly unique.

It was his eyes that stood out. They were a soft brown, the same color as the majority of the population, but had a glint to them that nobody else in the area had. His mind was churning, and his eyes were constantly on the move– and the fact that he was the one man in the entire building, the entire city, and the entire ​continent ​with that characteristic was his defining feature.

There was a subtle knock on the door– not too quiet, but just loud enough to indicate the appearance of a person without the startelement that should have accompanied it.

14-I has come in. It has been sent to your devices, and must be dealt with immediately.

Four-one-eight-nine will meet with you at five past noon.”

“Affirmative, three-two-four-nine-one,” the man replied in the same even voice. “Tell four-one-eight-nine that I will have it completed in due course.” The secretary waited for his message to finish, then swung around mechanically to leave the room. As soon as she was out of sight, the man slumped against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. He had almost forgotten her number today. That would have been a deadly accident. And this was the second time that he had slipped up this week. Just last 3rd Day, he had almost called one of his co-workers by the name he personally had come up with.

Boulder, ​he had thought when he saw the sturdy, gray-haired man. ​His name could be

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Boulder. ​But his number was 68472, and although the man had remembered to call him by the correct address just in time, the slightest slip-up could have meant the end. And that was no simple exaggeration. The man walked over to the window of his office and gazed out to the bleak scene in front of him In the heart of the city, hundreds of people roamed the streets but the atmosphere lacked life.

As everyone bustled around in their daily routines, few smiled, laughed, or acknowledged others, with almost every step taken the same monotone beat. Skyscrapers shot into the sky, sharp and clean, that would have been grandiose had they not all been the same. Even the sky, like the rest of the world, was a dull, constant gray.

For the hundredth time, the man felt a sharp pang of loneliness in the world of uniformity he saw before his eyes. It seemed that everyone, from the citizens to the rats scurrying in the storm drains, were monotonously acting the same way, at the exact same pace. As far as the man knew, he was the only one with an active mind. The only mind safe from the government’s brainwashing.

How would he survive in this world? He had already managed, barely, for over twenty years, and yet he is still unable to perfectly pull off an act as a jerky, emotionless human-robot. He sighed in frustration and turned his back against the window, trying to block out the nightmarish world outside. He’s whispered to himself a million times, ​It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream​. But when he opens his eyes, the reality of the world faces him even more threateningly than before.

In forty-three minutes, he will be having a meeting with one of the high-ranked government officials. He quickly goes over the basic routine in his head. Tie must be precisely a foot long hanging from the exact center of his collar. Bow at

exactly a ninety-degree angle. One degree too low, and he’s bound to be caught. Blink every three seconds? Four? One second late, and he’s in trouble. And what was the government official’s number again? 89105? Or was it 89106? He didn’t remember. He was, after all, a human. Not a robot.

But then again, so were the rest of them.

The man closed his eyes and turned away from the dreary scene in front of him. The sole difference between him and the rest of the populace was his mind. And it didn’t make him special, or unique. He was the only defect in this entire world.

The one difference in a sea of uniformity.

He sat down at his swivelling chair and felt as if he was caving inwards. There was nobody for him to talk to, nowhere that he could run to. After work, he would go to a utilitarian apartment building, eat a nourishing meal, and then go to bed on a serviceable cot. There was nothing else that he needed, and so he would only have the necessities.

“I am going mad,” he whispered to himself. It wasn’t truly an exaggeration. He was alone in the world, the sole strand of light in a sea of ignorance. And slowly the darkness was absorbing him.

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The man glanced up at the wall clock. Two hours after noon. Which meant he would be expected to leave the building in just under three hours. So he had time, technically. He had time to check up on his assigned workload and then…

I have time​, he thought to himself. ​So what if it breaks the pattern? I have time.

He glanced around the room and picked up his messenger bag. The report that had been sent to his devices would just take a few minutes to review and digest thoroughly. There were more important things to do.

The door swung shut behind him as he left his private office. Only one person noticed him leaving – a mindless office worker who thought that the door had slammed shut a bit louder than regulation demanded.

-Deep in the heart of the building, twenty feet below where the pedestrians trod and officer workers tapped at their computers, was a dark and shadowed room, the only source of light from and dim and flickering computer screen. Sharply placed sets of tubes and beakers sat pristinely arranged at the side of the room; behind them, a set of glass cabinet shelves lined with bottles filled with unnaturally colored liquids.

Behind the computer, a man with a stiff cut suit and perfectly styled hair sat, his eyes focused, the gaze intense. His eyes were filled with energy, with malice, as they analyzed the series of numbers, code, ​and measurements. His fingers tapped furiously, and his gaze never faltered as he reached the end of a long and extensive list, did a final check over, and entered in his personal password. A camera on top of the computer blinked on, performed a retinal scan and the computer flashed onto a new page. On it, in bold

letters, were the words “Are you sure you would like to proceed”. The man muttered something along the lines of, “I most definitely am”, before clicking the button below that read “ACTIVATE”.

-Even robotic humans- or human robotstook breaks. Their patience still declined and their focus still wavered. So the guards of The Laboratory would change every hour, on the hour.

One pair of guards left the door of the room precisely thirty seconds before the hour. The corridor took twenty seconds to traverse at a steady pace. And the new set of guards started walking into the corridor at the beginning of those twenty seconds as well.

And if it took ten seconds for the guards to be well out of sight, the man mused, then there’s a window of ten seconds where the entrance to the room is not guarded.

Locked, yes.

Busy, yes.

But unguarded. No security cameras would stand in perfect line with the door, because just one glance into that room could destroy any type of brainwashing and free someone’s mind. Only those who were truly under the spell of chemicals could work in The Laboratory, as only those who were weak-minded could be told anything. The man frowned as he considered these options.

A window of ten seconds. With a locked room that would probably be inhabited.

The two problems were solvable- he could find a key and override the system, and could do so at night. But the question remained- to get in the room, he had a window of ten seconds, but he had to be at the entrance already.

How?

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And this happens to me every time. I was

Annabel

[An external piece from A Mind of Difference​]

By Sashrika Pandey It was always one minute, nothing more.

One minute, sixty seconds, where the world turned upside down.

The time started, and she let her mind fill.

My name is Annabel Lee and I am twenty five years old. I study physics at 212 Baker Street, fourteen blocks away. I have good grades. But I’m not so social- I would rather study old manuscripts than interact with coworkers. I have a little sister. The last time I saw her was four years ago, when I left for the city. She had gone to her advanced mathematics class- she didn’t have time for a sentimental farewell. I don't remember my parents well. My mother had green eyes. That was the only unique thing about her- green eyes.

Everyone in the area had brown eyes, or hazel.

“Subject 94135 is secured in the chamber,” droned a feminine voice over the intercom. “All clear, the examination may proceed.” Two scientists manually flicked switches and turned gears in a rhythmless pattern, a robotic order that followed after the same instructions were delivered over the intercom every day.

fifteen when I realized that the world is fake and that my life isn’t even mine to control. And that there was nothing true and that everything that was true was a lie because lies were truths and lying wasn't possible in the first place.

And that they are all lying to us and we all are under a spell- and that I have only one minute to do something- anything.

“Metabolism and blood pressure are under regulatory status,” one of the scientists murmured.

He glanced at one of the screens, then back out a clear glass window where they could see the patient, who was blinking her eyes and staring up at the ceiling. She was secured to a stretchersome patients got rather antsy when the process began. “Subject 94531 has appropriate BMI, has taken proper vaccines, and has a fair diet.”

“Five feet and four inches in height, weighs 132 pounds, is blood type O…” The second scientist squinted at the glowing screen.

“Carrier for colorblindness?”

“Paternal gene,” the first scientist confirmed. “Not an issue at the moment.”

My real name is 94531, but we studied a poem called Annabel Lee when I was fourteen. It was about the failures of mankind to overcome needless emotion, as it interferes with reason and intellect. But I found a beauty in the poem- and I only realized it in my last ten seconds, ten years ago.

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Annabel is a pretty name, anyways.

“Last immunization?” the first scientist inquired. His partner frowned slightly.

“5th Day of Week 3, Month 8,” she repeated carefully.

“She’s overdue.”

“By one month.” They both glanced at the transcripts curiously. Nobody was overdue by this much- maybe a week at the latest. But nobody was careless enough to let a month slip by without a citizen being immunized. “Not a worry- we can fix it.”

I’m running out of time. What else can’t I afford to forget- remember the stars, Annabel, remember the stars. The last time I saw them was when the blackout occurred. Otherwise the city lights block them out. The one time we had a blackout was five years ago- two days before I turned twenty and had my immunization. That’s why I remember- because I saw the stars. They are so far away and yet so close. I could almost reach out and touch them. They remember who I am even when I don’t.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams.

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes…

Teach me to remember- rememberremember“Heart rate is accelerating,” the second scientist noted as she made a small mark on the sheet in front of her.

“Patient is active. Immunization process may begin,” ordered the intercom in its sleepy tone. The two scientists swivelled over to the dashboard and typed complex instructions into the database- code which they had committed to memory. Those lines of code weren’t found in any handbook or any scrap of paper that could be passed to the wrong hands. It had to be memorized.

And don’t forget that you only have one minute- twenty seconds, maybe. And you only get

this chance every five years- sixty seconds to make you human, sixty seconds for you to truly live.

Wake, wake, wake.

None of the scientists realized that the woman’s hands were fidgeting slightly. Her left hand was skimming its fingers over the strap that had tied her down to the stretcher. It tapped the buckle. Her eyes shifted uneasily across the ceiling.

And nobody noticed. Not the scientists, not those who were supposed to be watching from the dozen hidden cameras arranged across the seemingly ordinary room.

I’m going to do something this time- this time I’m going to help our world- I’m going to succeed and break- ​The woman fidgeted upon seeing an odorless, opaque gas wafting into the room. She took a quick gulp of air and refused to breathe.

“That’s odd,” the second scientist commented.

“She’s overdue,” the first scientist answered dismissively.

I delayed it on purpose- I don’t know how I knew to wait, I don’t know why, but… Wait.

Remember. I remember. Five years ago I readjusted my scarf during the wait. It was itchy and uncomfortable. I made it worse- I made it a reminder to myself. I associated discomfort with this immunization. And I don’t know why or how I recalled all that, but I did. And maybe somewhere in my mind I remembered to delay my appointment… to avoid it. To remember in the back of my mind that slight discomfort.

“She should be sated by now,” the first scientist muttered, ignoring the monitor. The woman’s face was red- she was still holding her breath. “Send in the Physician.” The woman shakily fought against her restraints- she reached up to her loose hair and tied a knot in it. Surely it would seem strange to anyone who would see her, but it would remind her again to push off her appointment. And maybe she would remember just a few minutes before stepping into the

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building- just a couple of seconds before letting someone tie her down.

And then everything will change.

The Physician entered the room, a man in a spotless suit with a laboratory coat fastened over it. A set of goggles rested atop his forehead, and a hygienic blue mask covered the majority of his face. He carried two things: a small black case and a remote control. He set both down onto the sole counter and pulled out a cotton swab and a small vial, from which he cleaned an area on the patient’s arm.

The man methodically removed a filled syringe from his case. The golden substance glistened, the only notable color in the grim room.

Be quick, be fast, Annabel. Take your shot.

He came forth and reached for her upper arm. But as soon as he was close enough, she grabbed the edge of the syringe and jammed it backwards. The honey-colored liquid spilled out of it and splashed onto the floor. A few drops dripped onto the edge of the stretcher. The Physician, surprised by the woman’s sudden fight, took a hesitant step back. She began to fight against the restraints.

“31432, look at this,” the second scientist spoke hurriedly, her voice cracking ever so slightly. The first scientist glanced at the monitor and scowled ever so slightly. He pushed his chair over to the microphone and held down a button as he delivered his command.

“Physician is incapacitated. Send in assistant guard.” Not a moment later, a wiry man strode into the room with a similar black case. He handed it to the Physician, who was still staring at the flailing patient in shock. And without a show of emotion, he refastened the loosening straps of the patient and held her rocketing fists down.

Of those who were older than we, of those who were wiser than we… ​The second syringe pricked her vein, and the honey-like liquid, the distorted ambrosia entered her veins. ​Don’t you forget those stars, Annabel. Remember who you

are. Remember, remember, remember… ​Her eyes fluttered shut. The guard looked at the the Physician, who self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, surprised by the whole ordeal. The second scientist watched all this with the curiosity of a novice learning from experience.

“It takes practice,” the first scientist said to his comrade with the subtle confidence of a veteran.

He seemed unfazed by the incident. “This isn’t the first time this has happened.

Nothing too unusual.” He pressed down the button next to the microphone again. “Physician has been shaken, may need another dose of immunization.”

The intercom buzzed and the systematic female voice spoke again. “Patient is stable, immunization may proceed.” The two scientists returned to their work, the guard left, and the Physician repacked his tools. Before he left, he pulled out an extra tissue from his case and knelt to wipe the liquid from the ground. He rose slightly and wiped the few drops from the stretcher. And right before he left, he noticed something odd about the woman’s hair. It had a rather odd knot in it. The Physician paused, then undid it and strode towards the door.

Right before he left, he was sure that he heard a soft whisper from the patient.

“Annabel.”

But that wasn’t possible. She was immunized- and his job was done. The Physician gathered his things and left.

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Puppet Master [An external piece from A Mind of Difference​]

By jaime Wang Most of the population had brown eyes.

Plain, ordinary brown eyes. But his weren’t.

They were gray, icy gray, cold, and set deep into his face, so that when the light shone into them, his gaze was mystified, as if he could see everything in the world, and everything inside you. These eyes observed the city from a 34th floor window, the pupils sweeping once over the vast landscape, and back again, their view uninhibited by the expansive floor to ceiling window that occupied the entire side wall.

The eyes honed in on individuals, ants, really, scurrying around among the sharp, clean-cut streets, their minds focused on only one thing at a time: reaching a destination. That was the way they were all designed now. To reduce their minds to only being able to house one idea, one thought at a time, so that these thoughts could be controlled, engineered, forcing the people to reach their full potential and efficiency when contributing to the economy of the new world.

The man smiled, but it was a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. These people, his minions, were all so perfect, so simple, and he created them all.

It was a slow process, but as time went on, it became increasingly easier as he realized just how simple and minute the human brain was, and how easy it was to control. Everybody in this whole world now was under the infliction of his serum, some more than others, and none of them even realized it. Even those who ran these regular drug administrations had no idea they too, were under his influence.

In fact, no one even knew he existed.

Those who were believed to be in power, and themselves believed they were in power, were in fact specifically brainwashed to give themselves the illusion of clarity and control. It was all a puppet show. He set up a government who thought they were the ones controlling everyone, when in fact, he was the one controlling them. It was a puppet show, and he was the puppet master. And the best thing is, there was no one who could undermine him because to the world, he didn’t exist. All he needed to control it were some long-ago formulated chemicals and a few simple commands on a computer screen. The world was, quite literally, all at his fingertips.

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Nightmares

By Athena Xue

I wait for it to clear It does not The quiet, it clenches my throat Chokes me I reach for help My hands, they grasp empty space Where is the warmth? Vanished like a ghost I can’t get out Of my own head A cat prowls through the mist Eyes wide and gold, pins in the dark I let go my fear, come cat, come I reach and I reach The cat, it comes, one step, two Three and it morphs, twist and pull Four and it’s not a cat Five, six. What now?

Then I hear its voice, I see its face Strange thing, warped and black It breathes knives of smoke and ash Sharp chill, cuts in my skin And those gold eyes of the once-cat So wrong, so wrong, too bright here in the dark But a story it has to tell Pain, so much pain Trapped and alone in the dark Not a streak of warmth It wraps me in a whisk of cold, I’m so numb Each breath froze, I feel ice on my skin Deep ache in my chest, an odd pulse Tick-tock, it goes, tick-tock, tickIt stops. Where’s the rest?

I don’t have to will it back Just in time, I wake Light pours in, I look The thing, it’s gone But deep in my memory A pair of gold eyes, still piercing and alive

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The heart was still warm, still throbbing.

She held it in her hand, the size of it seeming to fit perfectly in her palm, the beat of it matching her own pounding pulse. Dark red liquid gushed from it, soaking her hand and sleeve.

She blinked. Then stifled a scream as she jerked her hand back, the heart dropping to the ground with a plop. It made a squishing sound as the organ continued to ooze. She jumped up, her feet backtracking, almost tripping herself until she was pressed firm against the wall, her hands leaving dark crimson streaks across the untainted white surface. She stared, stared at the body of the only person she had learned to love, stared at the bloodied slashes on his warm, handsome face, stared at the gaping hole in his chest from where blood was leaking steadily out, forming a puddle in which he lay, his clothes slowly growing dark.

She stared at his heart, soft and red, still twitching as it lay next to him. The heart which she was so close to devouring in her maddened, crazed state.

“No...no…” she whispered to herself, looking at her hands, unable to believe what she had done.

It had been years since she had had those phases. Years since the curse had still been in effect. The curse that caused her to kill, mutilate, and consume the heart of anyone she truly loved.

To protect her, her parents moved away from the city, into the quiet rural neighborhoods away from anyone who could try to harm her, or who she could possibly harm. They managed to keep her

under control, to restrain her when the fits came.

Until one time, when she was only 10 years old, a little minute carelessness caused her to brutally murder both of them. After she came to her senses and realized what she had done, she ran away. Ran far away from what she had done, and what it meant. She spent the next 15 years of her life hiding herself away from everyone, learning to control herself. She thought the curse was over. It was supposed to be over after 10 years of isolation. After so long, she thought maybe, just maybe, she could love again and it would be okay.

Look how well it turned out for her.

She had warned Andre. She had warned him of her curse, of what it could do. He said he wasn't afraid, that he could help. Look how well that turned out for him.

-The wind whipped her hair back, chilling her face and making her eyes sting. She stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the city below her sing with life, a sharp contrast to the death in her soul. She could see her apartment to the left, see the rows of police cars that were lined up in front of it. She could see cruisers racing to the base of the hill on which she stood, could faintly hear their shouts as they rushed around in search of the vicious murderer. None of it mattered anymore.

No more​. She thought. ​As her foot slipped from the cliff, the last moments stretched out to an eternity of memories: of fear, of pain, of desolation, of death, and of love. And it was for all of these that she embraced the final impact.

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