Amy Cross
PERSONA
Prologue
“Asher? How are you, my dear? Did you have a pleasant journey?”
Looking up from the comic I’ve been reading, I spot Doctor Phillips coming this way along the corridor. I immediately smile, since she’s the first friendly face I’ve seen for a long time. At the children’s home, everyone is so harsh and angry, but Doctor Phillips genuinely seems to like me.
“You look well,” she continues, crouching in front of me. She smells of perfume, which makes me smile. I haven’t smelled perfume since my mother died. “Now Asher,” she continues, “did the people from the home tell you why I asked to see you today?”
I shake my head.
Her smile grows. “Well, you’re a very lucky little girl, because I’ve got a wonderful surprise for you. Out of all the little girls at the home, you have been chosen to come and take part in something very special. And do you know why?” She pauses. “It’s because you’re not like the others, Asher. You have something that’s lacking in most little girls. You have potential! You can be useful!”
I stare at her for a moment, but I still can’t help smiling. It’s been so long since anyone was nice to me like this, maybe it hasn’t happened since the policeman who helped me after my parents died.
“Do you remember what we talked about last time?” she asks.
I nod.
“Well, I’ve come to a decision about it,” she tells me, reaching out and taking my hand. “All you have to do is come with me to a room at the end of that corridor, and I’ll show you the most amazing machine. Trust me, Asher, this is the first day of the rest of your life and you are going to absolutely love what we have in store for you.” She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Only eight years old,” she continues, with tears in her eyes, “and already set on such a wonderful course. You trust me, don’t you?”
I nod.
She grins. “Are you sure?”
I nod again.
“That’s perfect,” she replies, squeezing my hand a little tighter. “Asher, I have a very good feeling about you!”
I hesitate for a moment, before allowing myself to smile again. After everything else that has happened since my parents died, I think finally I’ve found someone who’s going to take care of me.
“Okay, Asher, I want you to be a good little girl. Try not to—”
Doctor Phillips flinches as I pull on the leather restraints, but I can’t get close enough to bite her face. I try again and again, before falling back exhausted against the cold metal table.
“Asher,” she continues calmly, making a note on a chart, “that’s really not the kind of behavior we expect from young ladies here. We had a little talk about that, remember? About how you should comport yourself? Displays of raw emotion only make you seem like a very immature child.”
“Mommy!” I scream, my voice echoing across the sterile chamber. “Help me!”
“Your mother’s not here, Asher. Your mother’s dead, remember?”
“Mommy!”
“Your mother is dead, Asher,” she says again, more firmly this time. “I thought you’d accepted that fact by now. What are you, some kind of baby?”
I open my mouth to call out again, but I know she’s right. My mother died in the crash, along with my father. In moments of panic, though, I sometimes forget and call out for them anyway. Sometimes, I even secretly hope that they can hear me somehow, that they might come back and save me.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whimper, barely able to see Doctor Phillips through the tears that are filling my eyes. Glancing over at the metal door, I see that it’s still shut. “Help me!” I cry out. “Please!”
Doctor Phillips shifts in her seat. “I need you to focus, Asher. Can you do that for me?”
Pulling again on the restraints, I feel the leather starting to cut through the flesh around my wrists. I’m already so sore from fighting back when they grabbed me at the children’s home, and from struggling in the van on the way here, and from trying to run when they were transferring me to the dormitories. I don’t care about the pain, though. I have to get off this metal slab before that machine – whatever it is – comes down again. Arranged high above me, a metal disc waits with several lights and mirrors and a series of needles. I don’t know what the machine is for, but I don’t want to be anywhere near it.
“All the psychological tests point to the same conclusion, Asher,” Doctor Phillips continues. “Some girls display a broad set of talents, which is admirable in its own way but… Well, it makes it much harder for us to decide where they’d be best utilized. Our aim here is to make sure that everyone is useful, and that means determining your most valuable qualities. You scored extremely highly in certain areas of the tests, and it would be a terrible waste if you were not to maximize your talents. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
“Help me!” I scream.
“Do you know what it means when I talk about a perfect trace?” she asks.
Sobbing, I try once again to pull free.
“It means that your test results showed very strong values in certain core areas that fit precisely into one of the pre-defined roles. The good news, Asher, is that this means we know exactly what to do with you.”
I pull on the restraints, even though they’re starting to cut through my wrists.
“You’re going to be the most wonderful soldier,” Doctor Phillips. “Soldiers are wonderful, Asher. They play a very important role, and everyone knows that they’re heroes. I understand you might not feel it right now, but once you start your training program, you’ll really start to blossom. You’ll fit right in!”
“Help!”
She smiles. “You’re lucky that you get to start so young. Most soldiers don’t start training until they reach ten or twelve, but you show exceptional abilities. Don’t worry, children are never sent to fight in the war. That would be monstrous, and we have strict rules against such things. You won’t be sent until you’re at least twenty-one. But by starting your training at the age of eight, you’ll be one of the best-prepared soldiers in history. Doesn’t that sound so—”
“Help me!” I scream, cutting off the rest of her speech as I strain toward the door. “Somebody—”
Before I can finish, she slaps me hard on the side of the face. As I feel a sharp stinging sensation, I turn to her, and – no matter how hard I try – I can’t keep tears from my eyes.
“Asher,” Doctor Phillips continues, with a little more steel in her voice than before, “this is extremely important. There’s to be no discussion about this, and I’d appreciate a little less silliness. As a ward of the government, your future has been decided, and your monitoring implant will be inserted right now.”
“Help!” I shout.
“You’ll learn,” she replies, checking her clipboard once again. “You’re not the first girl to be brought into the army, Asher. Far from it. You are, however, possibly the loudest. Please try not to shout so much.”
“Help me!” I scream, with tears rolling down my cheeks.
“How utterly tiresome you’re becoming,” Doctor Phillips explains as she heads over to the terminal in the corner. “You’ll thank me later.”
“What did I do wrong?” I sob, unable to keep my bottom lip from trembling. “Why are you punishing me?”
“Asher—”
“Stop!” I scream as soon as I see her activating the terminal. “I’ll do anything you want, but don’t make the machine hurt me again!”
“You’re not being punished, Asher. You’re being rewarded, for showing exceptional potential. You’re also very high up on one of the top floors of the recruitment center, so I can assure you that nobody is coming to rescue you. In fact, you were specially selected for this project, so I hope you feel a little pride in that fact. There are so many little girls we could have chosen, but we chose you. We already know that you’re a strong young lady. You just have to find that out for yourself.”