Expiration
June 30, 2316
Mongolia Sector, City of Xia, Elementōrum Patriam
Ethan’s legs gave out. He groaned in pain when his knees hit the dry-packed earth of the open field. A small fire burned a few feet away from him. Despite its size, it blazed with suppressive heat. The proctor for his test, Taylor, stood over the fire and controlled it with an outstretched arm. His cool blue eyes pierced through Ethan like knives. Ethan returned the look with venom. He knew the Council planned to kill him if he didn’t pass the test.
He didn’t care.
It didn’t matter how much Professor Taylor pushed him; he wouldn’t be able to control Water like they wanted. The last-ditch effort to save his life.
With a low groan, Ethan hoisted himself on shaky legs and took several aggravating steps toward the fire. He stretched out his left arm. No use, he thought bitterly. No fiber of his genetic make-up allowed him to gather the available water in his body, or in the air, to extinguish the flames.
Ethan’s body pitched forward, and he caught himself on the ground with his hands. The dirt and gravel dug into his palms and knees. He dropped his head to the ground, and his sweaty red hair dragged through the dirt. His eyes settled on the upside-down world framed by his legs. None of the houses faced each other—a design to help cut down on traffic in neighborhoods—tightly packed with barely any landscaping. Each garage accommodated two slim, circle shaped hover cars which took up half the space of a tired vehicle. Each roof had its own solar panel dish.
He dragged his head up. Taylor watched Ethan with little interest, annoyed at the teenager’s lack of ability. Ethan didn’t blame him. Professor Taylor had a reputation as one of the harshest graders at the Academy, but even the nicest teachers couldn’t help him pass his element tests. When his eyes met Taylor’s, his pounding heart and the hum of air-conditioners intensified. Ethan drew in a deep breath and the sound rattled in his ears. A bead of sweat ran down his cheek and fell to the parched ground.
“Put it out, Silverspoon,” Taylor growled. Even in the heat, he dressed in a professional black suit with a white-collared shirt. A red tie, pushed up to his throat, rested over the buttoned seam. He didn’t break a sweat. With a flash of Taylor’s blue eyes, the fire grew larger, and Ethan choked on rising bile.
“I can’t.” He shook his head.
Ethan leaned back on the balls of his feet and pulled his sweat-soaked shirt from his body. He threw it to the side and fell onto his butt. Ethan tugged up the hem of his jeans and pushed his high socks down, bunching them at his ankles. He stared at the fire and kicked his legs forward. Taylor tapped his foot. Ethan shuddered. He didn’t want to cross a powerful, fully trained elementalist, and he didn’t have the resolve to try. Ethan had no plans to do what Taylor wanted. Rather, he couldn’t physically do it. He took a steady breath and propped his torso up with his hands extended behind him.
“Do it,” Taylor commanded.
Ethan remained ready to fail.
He couldn’t control water. The Academy gave him every chance to prove his worth in all seven elements, and he failed every time. He dropped his weight from his arms, and his back hit the solid ground. Ethan winced as pain ripped through his body. The injured nerves calmed, and he took in the blue sky.
Clouds scattered. No birds. The sky too blue. The kind of dark blue that settles at sunset, sprinkled with the beginnings of the constellations. If the sky had the pale, translucent look it did on the surface, it would look like Nevada. For a moment, the fateful afternoon of the Black Rider’s descent clouded his vision. Hoof beats echoed across his memory. The slap of a boot against the tile floor of the kitchen. A body hitting the wall.
Ethan pushed his fingers through the dirt and tried to seek the switch Taylor wanted to trigger. It didn’t exist. Genetics gifted him the body of an elementalist from birth, but he would never be one of them. When the Council called for him, they’d give him what he desired. Long-awaited death.
“If you don’t pass this test, it’ll be reported as another fail on your record,” Taylor said.
“Awesome.” Ethan kinked his neck up, so he could look farther behind him.
A wood fence leaned nearby. No longer a popular choice, wood often remained a forgotten material. People preferred the invisi-fences. Ethan’s gaze shifted back to the sky. A black dot formed at the corner of his eye, and he focused on it. When he blinked, it vanished.
Heatstroke.
“Are you not going to try?”
“I have tried.” Ethan threw his arms into the air. He clenched his fists and momentarily tried to focus on gathering water from his body. Nothing clicked. Sweat dripped from his fist and onto his cheek. Ethan pulled a face and used his sweaty shoulder to wipe it away. He dropped his hands back to the ground. He didn’t have the strength to move his body.
The heat ebbed away, and Ethan could breathe again. Taylor kicked dirt onto the fire, and Ethan wondered momentarily if he could pass the test with the secondary method.
Professor Taylor would forcefully keep the fire going, he mused. He’s a Fire elementalist. But then again, Earth is stronger than Fire…
It took him a while to find the will to sit up. With a slow breath, he reached for his shirt and straightened out the muddy material. Ethan located the tag and tugged the Henley on. It felt disgusting. His toes curled when the seams stuck to his skin in the wrong places. After a few moments, he yanked it off. He’d return to the Academy shirtless.
Ethan turned to Taylor. He held a thin glass phone in his hand and tapped the screen with his free hand.
Ethan shook his head. A few strands of hair clung to his forehead, and he pushed them back. He forced himself to stand. His head swam, and he staggered to the left. A new black dot formed on the horizon, but it didn’t vanish when he blinked. It grew. A smile taunted his lips.
The transportation pod came to a halt in front of them. It didn’t touch the ground, nor did it disturb the ground with slipstream. Its gleaming glass exterior reflected distracting and blinding flashes as it met the sun. Unlike the hover cars, the pods didn’t need steering mechanisms. They floated flat and cylindrical with room to recline on the inside. Groups often traveled in pods over the smaller cars. The circular doors opened automatically to the side and revealed the plush, blue velvet cushioned interior. Taylor gestured for Ethan to enter the pod before him, and he gladly took the opportunity.
No matter how much he hated the Academy, he’d rather be there with a known fate than in City of the Uns or on the Earth’s lower surface.
He settled into the soft seat of the pod and leaned his head against the glass. His hair left behind streaks of sweat. When Professor Taylor boarded the pod after him, neither of them made a move to start a conversation. Ethan failed the examination with full knowledge of the consequences. The Council would rule him as Rogue, and they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him because of it. He watched them do it before. Rogues presented a danger to elementalist society.
Nobody in Elementōrum Patriam knew the members of the Council by name, but they ran the country like any other government. They made laws and allowed the people to vote on important matters. However, Elementōrum had few elections as they flaunted a near perfect society above the humans. The seven-member Council carried out their duties to the country without hesitation. Ethan thought of their role as mostly symbolic. They represented the seven natural elements: Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Storm, Fortune, and Life. Supposedly, the strongest elementalists made up the Council. The original nine Council members created their country and continent. No one knew why they doubled representation for two of the elements. To honor each creator after splitting Pangea, they named nine of the cities after them.
Ethan loathed the original nine. They separated the elementalists from the humans and created a divided world. They named the Uns as a separate entity who deserved despotism in lawless ground; he knew the Uns was a fancy name for humans born to elementalists. The nine created the law which killed people like Ethan—Rogues. Those with superior elementalist bodies who couldn’t control one of the seven elements.
Ethan failed the last of his tests. He didn’t need Taylor to input an official grade to know. He collected bits and pieces from each, but he couldn’t control a single element in full. He remained a danger to elementalist society. He knew he deserved the Rogue label.
While Rogues had the same genetically mutated body as the elementalists, the mutation chose a form which refused to allow them to control one singular element of the seven. Instead, it created a “glitch” where they could control bits and pieces of the seven elements without control. To spare their people the pain of dealing with a Rogue, the Council killed them. Ethan met his first Rogue at age five. The Council decapitated him in the middle of the street.
The silver transportation pod lifted smoothly into the air once Taylor sat in his seat and the door latched shut. Ethan cracked one eye open to watch his teacher. Taylor occupied himself by inputting Ethan’s marks on the examination. Occasionally, Taylor’s fingers hesitated over the keystrokes, and a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. Ethan wondered how quickly the letter from the Council would arrive. He assumed they used an automated system for the most part. He doubted they really kept track of all the students approaching Rogue status. Taylor’s thumb hesitated over a lower portion of his screen, again. He caught Ethan’s eye, opened his mouth, closed it, and tapped the screen before quickly tucking it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Ethan’s clear, glass phone alerted him when the completed scores hit his report. He pulled it from his left pocket and stared at the notifications.
Grade change.
Examination input.
A letter from the Council.
Expected.
Ethan took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and unlocked the phone with his fingerprint. He opened the email from the Council first. His phone glowed blood red when he did. Pity settled on Taylor’s face. Ethan knew none of the teachers wanted to fail a student into Rogue status, but after too many examinations, he stopped caring about the result. Nineteen-years-old, four years of testing. His eyes scanned the message.
Ethan Silverspoon,
We on the Council regret to hear of your failure in the Water element examination. We hope you will join us for breakfast tomorrow morning. We will discuss your future promptly at ten o’clock.
Please report to the locked door on the third floor by the tall windows. We are sure you know the one.
Enjoy the rest of your day,
The Council
“Breakfast,” he snorted. It wouldn’t make a difference if they told him, We plan to kill you at ten o’clock tomorrow, please make sure you’re there. Perhaps they used “breakfast” as a code for poison. He didn’t know how they would do it, but if he had to choose, he’d pick something quick and clean.
The pod broke through the upper field of sky outside the City of Xia, one of the nine. As they climbed, the closer cities came into full view. Behind them, the wasteland of the City of Barren. To the south, the mines crossed the mountain range between the City of Victor and Xia. Directly ahead, the large cave structures in the northern corner of the City of Brooks shrouded the cities below in its shadow. Ethan thought he could faintly make out the edges of the Great Lake where it crossed between three cities: Victor, Sides, and Messina.
The pod turned northeast to straighten its course to the Academy at the heart of the nation; its buildings and towers rose higher than anything else in the country. They followed the mountain range on the south side of the City of Garden until they swung toward the parking structure. Ethan only caught the barest glimpse of the Forks Tongue River in Garden on their descent. The City of Garden hosted all the Mediterranean architecture and cultures. A beautiful fade between each style of housing. Ethan loved the Morocco sector the most.
Houses surrounded the Academy and glimmered with flashes of gold in the night; in the day, they shone like pure silver. They followed similar architecture patterns from the City of Garden. If Ethan could be a Wind elementalist, he’d spend his nights gazing at the city from above. The elevation of the land allowed the citizens to see the stars shimmer throughout the day. They winked at those occupying the large outdoor study areas and cobblestone paths. The Storm elementalists maintained the weather. It rarely snowed, but it rained once a week. The sunny weather helped the students at the Academy remain positive about their education.
The Academy acted as the training grounds for elementalists, a city not unlike the mythical Mount Olympus. Historians theorized the ancient religious site originated from the elementalists’ country, Elementōrum Patriam. Large castle-like spires rose into the sky above floors no longer distinctly Greek in style. The buildings had bits and pieces taken from cultures around the world. The Bullet—a train system without rails, and their main transportation around the country—shot between buildings near light speed. Aqueducts, turned into walking paths, wove between and over smaller buildings. Several transportation pods lifted into the air and shot off across the landscape. A handful of towers floated in the air without support. A large pond structure toward the south side of the Academy housed underwater classrooms. Ethan envied those who studied in their natural element.
The transportation pod circled the Academy until it reached the entrance for the parking area. Several pods rested near the walls where elementalists worked on the mechanical components. The other vehicles waited in neat rows and glistened in the low light of the workspace. At the end of the long row of pods stood a single set of doors. The pod stopped in front of them and opened the door for its occupants. Taylor exited first, and Ethan followed close behind him. The program in the vehicle directed the pod away to the wash station, and the elementalists headed for the doors into the Academy.
Light filtered across the open hall from magnificent floor to ceiling windows between columns. At the end of the hall, a healer from the Academy infirmary waited for Ethan. He tapped his foot impatiently, and the gold buttons from his azure uniform sent sparks of light dazzling across the walls. The outfit had a slight glow from the reflection against the silver lining on the seams. The stunning uniform helped set them apart from other employees in the building. Only the best Life elementalists could work in the Academy. When the healer spotted Ethan, his annoyed frown deepened, and a flicker of horror shot through his eyes.
“I didn’t almost kill anyone this time.” Ethan gave the man an uneasy smile and a thumbs up. The Healer sighed and gestured for the teenager to follow him.
During one of his two Life element exams, he mixed some chemicals together and created a deadly poisonous gas. He caused an emergency evacuation of the infirmary. Healers tended to run in the other direction when Ethan approached in anticipation of what havoc he left in his wake.
“I’ll see you later, Mr. Silverspoon,” Taylor called after him.
He wouldn’t.
The Healer led him through the brightly lit hallways of the elementalist indoor classrooms. At the end of a long corridor, they walked into the open Infirmary. The infirmary reeked of iodoform. Ethan crinkled his nose.
Like the hallway from the garage, the infirmary hosted floor to ceiling windows. The large columns of light moved from east to west, and the afternoon light gave Ethan’s red waves of hair a soft, fiery glow. The white cotton sheets were itchy but overall, more comfortable than the dorms. Soft downy feather pillows and mattresses made from finest polyester with soft cotton stuffing made the stay enjoyable. The few beds near the end of the ward hidden behind blue curtains were saved for highly injured elementalists, an uncommon occurrence.
They restricted him to one of the open beds by activating the invisi-walls saved for troublesome patients. He figured it must be a security precaution in case of a nearby cart of chemicals (not like he’d play with them for fun); they didn’t want a repeat. He adjusted the glass reader on a stand next to his bed. It contained all records information on file. Curious, he opened the folder with his ELE ID attached.
Name: Ethan Aaron Silverspoon
Age: 19
DOB: June 1, 2297
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Red
Height: 177.8 cm (5 ft 10 in)
Time Spent at the Academy: 5 years
Non-Element GPA: 3.692
Element GPA: 0.0
Element: Rogue
He nodded along with the information. All correct. Ethan let out a huff and fell against the bed. He pulled out his phone to clear the grade change notification. In the application, he scrolled through his past results.
December 31, 2312- End of Eighteen-Month Initiation to the Academy
GRADE: Pass
Elementalist shows positive signs for being able to control one of the elements. He is not affiliated with any of the currently inhabited elements. Individual elementalist testing will prove successful.
Every three months after the initiation months, Ethan took a test for each of the seven elements, and each element got two opportunities.
Storm
He changed the path of a tornado in Ubuntu that nearly killed the entire Lesotho sector. The proctor barely managed to get it under control, and one of his classmates, who got sucked into the tornado, miraculously made it out alive. They thought he might be a rather clumsy Storm elementalist until he, and several other students nearly drowned in a tsunami during his second test.
Fortune
Ethan had to influence the luck of those around him, but he had no golden glow. Several other students did worse on their test in his presence than they did in class and bullied him over bringing them bad luck instead. When he tested alone the second time, the proctor stabbed themselves with their pen, but ruled it as an accident and gave him the fail.
Life
The notorious incident with the chemicals. Almost everyone in the Academy knew about him from that point forward.
Air
Ethan couldn’t life himself off the ground any higher than he could jump. He almost took down another student when the Air instructor threw him off the top of the Academy like a baby bird, and he gripped his fellow student for dear life as they plummeted.
Fire
Ethan used a spark starter (he vehemently refused to admit to cheating) and set fire to the City of Garden. Luckily, the Fire test occurred far enough from homes to not affect the public, and the elementalists got it under control quickly enough. However, he did destroy a large section of endangered foliage which the Life elementalists spent weeks recovering. The gardens section had a poster of him hanging in the front office banning him from the grounds.
Earth
Somehow, during his Earth test, a large pit opened in the ground and trapped several Academy professors and students. If they weren’t Earth elementalists, they would’ve suffocated under the weight of the collapse. Every student except Ethan passed.
Water
His most recent test with Taylor in addition to nearly drowning a student three months prior. He didn’t have a good track record for doing much other than nearly killing others around him. The exact qualities they looked for in Rogues.
If normal grades counted for anything, I’d be brilliant, Ethan thought. He coughed and looked across the room for the Healer who would tend to him before sending him back to the dormitories. With the ongoing examinations, the infirmary was busier than usual.
“How are you doing today?” The sweet voice of a Healer behind him nearly made him fall off the bed. He slowly rolled over until he saw the woman assigned to care for him. She had pretty blue eyes and black hair. “I’m Rose Sylvester.”
“Ethan Silverspoon.” He put out his hand. Rose took it politely, and she gestured for him to sit up.
“I’ll be examining you today to make sure all your vitals are in the right place.”
“Alright,” Ethan sat up on the bed and allowed her to examine him.
Rose waved her hand over his body, and a soft green glow emanated between them. She stored information from the scan in the glass screen by his bed. He could see his heartbeat on the monitor next to several other health related items. One highlighted with red.
“You’re only a little dehydrated, no need for an IV,” she said. “I’ll bring you some water while the rest of these stats update.”
Rose walked away and left Ethan with the quiet space again. If water is my only issue, I can drink water back at the dorms, he huffed. Several minutes passed before Rose returned with a gallon of water. The screen showed his temperature as only one hundred and four, so Rose ordered a prescription to help return his temperature to the normal one hundred and six minimum for elementalists. Once she ensured his other vitals normalized, she discussed his release with a supervisor. Ethan drank a quarter of the gallon while he waited to distract his thoughts from the irony of visiting the infirmary with his death less than twenty-four hours away. A few minutes later, she returned with instructions on what to do when he returned to the dorms. On his way, his mind drifted to a conversation with his Water element Professor the day before.
Professor Emma VonBerg approached him after class. His things scattered across the room, held him back. The more proficient elementalists in the class bullied him relentlessly and sent his belongings to the farthest corners of the classroom. He found one of his erasers under a nearby desk when Professor VonBerg addressed him. He whipped up and cracked his head on the metal support beams. She quickly apologized and handed him an ice cube from her hand, which he took to be polite.
“Ethan, you realize if you fail this Water element test you are going to be classified as a Rogue elementalist.” Professor VonBerg took a seat at the next desk over. Ethan walked calmly to where his things were and rummaged longer than necessary in the pockets.
“I am quite aware of the situation, yes.” His tone echoed a lifetime of fear hidden behind his brown eyes.
“I suggest you do a bit of study and practice. It might help you with your exam tomorrow,” Professor Vonberg said.
“No amount of study and practice is going to help me tomorrow if it hasn’t helped me thus far. I don’t think any of the teachers at this school would really be disappointed if I failed.”
“I’ve been instructed to give you this.” She held out a blood red envelope with gold writing curling fancily into Ethan’s name on the front. She held it like it burned her fingers, barely touching the corner. He snatched it from her hand. He half expected it to shout at him.
“Thanks,” Ethan mumbled, tossed his bag over his shoulder, and made to leave.
“And Ethan?” Professor VonBerg called. “Good luck.”
He glanced over his shoulder for only a moment before exiting the room without a ‘thank you’. He blindly followed the colored lines on the wall indicating each element’s dorms and classrooms. Near the end of a hall where the colors ended and hosted the undefined dorms, he climbed the flights of stairs. He didn’t feel the marble under his feet or the railing in his hand. Ethan watched in envy as Air elementalists pushed themselves effortlessly through the spiraling staircase. If they chose, they would never walk anywhere again. Water elementalists teasingly jetted the flying students; a few of the kind Fire elementalists stopped the water from hitting them. Ethan ducked, avoiding lightning bolts and bricks. Passing students glanced at the red envelope in his hand, but none of them said a word. He stumbled into the boys’ dormitory. The other nineteen-year-olds glanced up as he entered and hastily looked away.
His bag hit the post of his bed with a loud clunk. Ethan collapsed on his firm mattress a moment later and groaned into the pillow. The stiff landing did nothing to comfort him. The corners of the letter, clenched in his hands, poked painfully into his side. After a moment, he slit it open. Most of the other boys who hung around in the dorm had left, and the ones who stayed ignored him.
Good luck,
The Council
Ethan groaned and rolled over. He pressed his face into the cotton pillows. Ethan had two options: study or sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come anytime soon. He went into the bathroom and filled his water cup to the brim. Ethan brought it back into the main bedroom and concentrated hard for the next few hours. By the time the others returned to bed, he still couldn’t manipulate the water in the cup. He was better off attaching the water cup to a string and spinning it with centrifugal force or rolling water in fumed silica than attempting to summon water to his will.
July 1, 2316
The Academy, Elementōrum Patriam
Ethan walked through the dormitory halls, shoulders drooping. He took the longest route through the building but still had plenty of time until the Council expected him. He spent the quiet moments of solitude contemplating what his existence meant. Fate gave him too many chances to keep living. He approached the end of the line. He took care to focus on each breath in and out. In and out. In and out. One of them would be the last.
People would praise the day Ethan left their world alone—he wouldn’t be a danger anymore. They would hear stories of all his misdeeds but never of the man resigned to death. The smile at the corners of his lips would be the last his body formed. His last title: Rogue.
He brought his thumb to the pulse in his wrist and focused on his heartbeat. He counted. Twenty pulses uniquely his. Twenty more at a steadier pace. Twenty telling him to stay alive. Sixty counts that wouldn’t prove his existence when his body stilled.
Ethan didn’t remember the rest of his walk through the cream halls and admiral tiles. He didn’t remember losing sight of the colored wall stripes telling him which classrooms and dorms he neared. A door in the middle of the hallway, alone, read THE COUNCIL in black on gold. Ethan scratched the space between his eyebrows and stared at the ornate bronze handle. Once he touched the knob, he committed to entering the Council’s domain.
Taking a deep breath, Ethan stretched out his hand and clenched it into a fist. He counted to ten, uncurled his fingers, and twisted the knob. It gave way, and he pushed the door open. He couldn’t see anything short of a few feet inside. The only illumination came from the hallway. He stepped into the dark, and the door swung closed behind him. Ethan thought he heard footsteps then a hand pushed him forward. He tried to spin around, but the person vanished. The darkness pulled him back. Terror filled his veins—he could barely move.
Something forced him into a chair, and he flew down the hall on the mobile furniture. Ethan’s hair pulled back from his forehead. He had no time to think before the chair hit an inhibitor, and he launched forward. Ethan tried to brace himself with his non-dominant arm, but his shoulder connected with the ground first. He rolled until he hit a wall.
“Welcome, Ethan Silverspoon. We're so glad you could join us.” A female voice reverberated, and the lights clicked on. Momentarily blinded, Ethan shook his head to return his lost sense.
Floodlights exposed the basketball stadium sized room. Stained white walls reflected the light, and upon close inspection, he noticed dry and cracked blood. Above him hung a silver box lined with windows, tinted dark on one side. It resembled a fancy box for spectators at a sporting event.
“I'm not ready to die,” he said. The sudden realization shocked Ethan to his core—he accepted his fate, but he wanted hope. His last wish faded. His fight and adrenaline drained from his body.
“Good-bye, Ethan.”
Hidden panels on the walls slid aside and six Lūminis Sclopētum, a weapon that resembled a rifle, mechanically clicked into place. Another click loaded the ammunition. Ethan pressed himself against the wall. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
Crack.
