United as One
Page 115
Ostensibly, all that is to keep the human Garde safe. I wonder, though, what would happen if one of the human Garde decided they had enough schooling and wanted to wander off campus. Would the soldiers manning the gate allow that?
I don’t ponder that question for long. That’s not why I’m here.
For all their security, the Academy isn’t prepared for invisible flying men. I land on the campus without being detected.
This place was built as part of the Declaration of Garde Governance, a set of laws adopted by the United Nations after Victory Humanity Day. Teenagers from around the world will be sent here to learn how to control their powers and, eventually, to work towards the betterment of humanity. There are other laws, too—stuff about the Loric and the Mogs, rules about when Legacies can be used, that kind of thing.
To be honest, I haven’t really read them.
The campus is largely deserted right now. From what I’ve heard, the only students currently training here are the ones with no place else to go. The ones who lost their families during the invasion. The rest won’t be showing up for a few months when the place opens for real.
In the entryway, there’s a blown-up poster of an image that circulated everywhere during the cleanup effort that followed the invasion. In it, the president’s daughter stands astride a pile of rubble in New York City, using her super-strength to lift a stack of debris so that a mother clutching her two young children can safely escape from underneath. In the background, a glamorously tattered American flag waves. The news reports claimed that family was stuck down there for a week, but I always thought the whole thing looked staged. Inspiring, yeah. But staged.
Across the bottom of the poster, the slogan reads: EARTH GARDE PEACEKEEPERS—YOU ARE THE BRAVE NEW WORLD.
Still invisible, I walk through the halls of the Academy. It doesn’t take long until I hear the sounds of training. I head in that direction, knowing that’s where he’ll be.
In an outsize gymnasium, a handful of kids practice their telekinesis with each other. Pairs of them toss footballs back and forth without using their hands, and, every time a whistle blows, they add another ball to the mix. When a group lets one of their balls drop, they heave a collective groan and start running laps.
Nine observes all this from a catwalk high above. He’s dressed like a football coach—sweatpants and hoodie. One of his sleeves is pinned up on account of his missing arm. His dark hair is tied back in a ponytail. I thought maybe the government would make him cut it, but no such luck.
“Professor Nine, how long do we have to keep doing this?” one of the kids complains, and I have to stifle my laughter.
“Until I get tired of watching you screw up, McCarthy,” Nine barks back.
I float up to the catwalk and land gently next to Nine. He senses the movement and turns his head just as I become visible.
“Look at this sellout, working for the gov— Oof!”
Nine nearly clotheslines me off the catwalk with his one-armed hug. When he’s done squeezing the life out of me, he holds me out at arm’s length, studying me like I was just secretly studying him.
“Johnny Hero, holy shit.” Nine shakes his head. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
Detecting a lack of movement from the kids below, Nine looks down. His group of orphaned Garde have all stopped practicing to stare up at us. To stare at me in particular.
“What the hell?” he shouts. “Back to work, you maggots!”
Reluctantly, the kids do as they’re told. I can’t help but grin at Nine’s control over them. He turns back to me and pinches my cheek, where I realize I’ve got a patchy beard growing. It’s probably been a few months since I shaved.
“This peach fuzz supposed to make you incognito?” Nine asks. “It ain’t working.”
“Professor Nine, huh?” I respond, smirking.
“That’s right,” he says, puffing out his chest.
“You never even finished high school, man.”
“It’s an honorary title,” he replies with a devilish smile. “Look at you, all reclusive mountain man and shit. Where you been? You know, it wasn’t cool you skipping out on us after my crippled ass spent a week nursing you back to health.”
I snort at that. “You weren’t nursing me. You were laid up in the next bed.”
“Yeah, providing important emotional support.”
I know Nine’s joking, but there’s a bit of truth to what he says. After West Virginia, as soon as I was feeling well enough, I did bail on the others. I rub the back of my neck. “I feel bad about that. I needed to get my head right after . . .”
I don’t ponder that question for long. That’s not why I’m here.
For all their security, the Academy isn’t prepared for invisible flying men. I land on the campus without being detected.
This place was built as part of the Declaration of Garde Governance, a set of laws adopted by the United Nations after Victory Humanity Day. Teenagers from around the world will be sent here to learn how to control their powers and, eventually, to work towards the betterment of humanity. There are other laws, too—stuff about the Loric and the Mogs, rules about when Legacies can be used, that kind of thing.
To be honest, I haven’t really read them.
The campus is largely deserted right now. From what I’ve heard, the only students currently training here are the ones with no place else to go. The ones who lost their families during the invasion. The rest won’t be showing up for a few months when the place opens for real.
In the entryway, there’s a blown-up poster of an image that circulated everywhere during the cleanup effort that followed the invasion. In it, the president’s daughter stands astride a pile of rubble in New York City, using her super-strength to lift a stack of debris so that a mother clutching her two young children can safely escape from underneath. In the background, a glamorously tattered American flag waves. The news reports claimed that family was stuck down there for a week, but I always thought the whole thing looked staged. Inspiring, yeah. But staged.
Across the bottom of the poster, the slogan reads: EARTH GARDE PEACEKEEPERS—YOU ARE THE BRAVE NEW WORLD.
Still invisible, I walk through the halls of the Academy. It doesn’t take long until I hear the sounds of training. I head in that direction, knowing that’s where he’ll be.
In an outsize gymnasium, a handful of kids practice their telekinesis with each other. Pairs of them toss footballs back and forth without using their hands, and, every time a whistle blows, they add another ball to the mix. When a group lets one of their balls drop, they heave a collective groan and start running laps.
Nine observes all this from a catwalk high above. He’s dressed like a football coach—sweatpants and hoodie. One of his sleeves is pinned up on account of his missing arm. His dark hair is tied back in a ponytail. I thought maybe the government would make him cut it, but no such luck.
“Professor Nine, how long do we have to keep doing this?” one of the kids complains, and I have to stifle my laughter.
“Until I get tired of watching you screw up, McCarthy,” Nine barks back.
I float up to the catwalk and land gently next to Nine. He senses the movement and turns his head just as I become visible.
“Look at this sellout, working for the gov— Oof!”
Nine nearly clotheslines me off the catwalk with his one-armed hug. When he’s done squeezing the life out of me, he holds me out at arm’s length, studying me like I was just secretly studying him.
“Johnny Hero, holy shit.” Nine shakes his head. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
Detecting a lack of movement from the kids below, Nine looks down. His group of orphaned Garde have all stopped practicing to stare up at us. To stare at me in particular.
“What the hell?” he shouts. “Back to work, you maggots!”
Reluctantly, the kids do as they’re told. I can’t help but grin at Nine’s control over them. He turns back to me and pinches my cheek, where I realize I’ve got a patchy beard growing. It’s probably been a few months since I shaved.
“This peach fuzz supposed to make you incognito?” Nine asks. “It ain’t working.”
“Professor Nine, huh?” I respond, smirking.
“That’s right,” he says, puffing out his chest.
“You never even finished high school, man.”
“It’s an honorary title,” he replies with a devilish smile. “Look at you, all reclusive mountain man and shit. Where you been? You know, it wasn’t cool you skipping out on us after my crippled ass spent a week nursing you back to health.”
I snort at that. “You weren’t nursing me. You were laid up in the next bed.”
“Yeah, providing important emotional support.”
I know Nine’s joking, but there’s a bit of truth to what he says. After West Virginia, as soon as I was feeling well enough, I did bail on the others. I rub the back of my neck. “I feel bad about that. I needed to get my head right after . . .”
