Abigail watched Hashim descend down to the bottom row of seating. She cocked her head, peering closer to try to determine who he was at the moment. It didn't seem like he was any of the ones she knew. Maybe he was somewhere between Hashim and Jake, at least in her best estimation.
And yes, he did seem to be. As she studied the way he sat, nothing else made sense. Was that a thing that he could always do, and she just hadn't seen before, or was it new?
She wasn't sure. But all it did was make her even more interested in the boy whose name was Hashim. She intended to somehow get close to him and find out more, now more than ever. Every time she saw him, her interest reached a new height. If she could be right beside him, maybe even get him to tell her himself... What a story he must have.
She had little doubt that there must be some sort of traumatic memory in his past. It was something she had read recently, called "segmenting", where someone split their brain and forced one part to carry all of their bad memories. That was the sort of thing that led to overstressing quite quickly. In fact, around eighty percent of people who were documented as overstressed came from similar cases, often a "public" face and a "private" face that they put on.
It was possible that someone was just truly overwhelmed by their circumstances, and there was nothing that could be done, but it was more likely that they had some sort of burden that they refused to share.
With Hashim, Abigail doubted such stark division could come about by simple overstressing, or even by a secret he refused to share. There was something else at play here, she was sure of it.
Her tutor had always told her that the best way a scientist could approach a situation was by assuming the obvious, but never discounting other options.
So what was the obvious, in this case?
in her mind, there were two options: Either it was the result of his ability, or someone else's.
It could very easily be something to do with one of his parents. After all, assumedly they were around a lot when he was younger. But she couldn't be sure. What she could be sure about was that he was always around himself.
Abigail hesitated.
Actually, with a mindset like his... she couldn't be sure of that either.
Atrius, it was just like her tutor said. A good scientist couldn't discount anything. But that just meant she would need to find out everything.
Hashim might literally be a fusing of multiple people into one body. If that was the case, it was likely true that his ability varied depending on who was in control, like she had assumed.
If he had a different ability for each persona, and he could mix personalities like she had seen...
Abigail glanced over at where Hashim had been to confirm it, only to find his seat empty. He was heading down to the stage, receiving something from the woman standing there.
And he was a different person entirely. Abigail had to struggle to keep her mouth from gaping as she watched him develop into someone new before her very eyes.
Either this person had been hidden, waiting to emerge for the right moment... or he was new. If Hashim could create new personalities, whether they were permanent or not, then he likely wasn't just a fusion of numerous people.
But of course, there was always the chance that he was just used to his mind being malleable, and had created this personality from the combination of Hashim and Jake. Atrius, sometimes Abigail hated acting like a real scientist. She needed to write this all down somewhere. She would normally bring her notebook everywhere with her, but she had heard that there would be physical tests, and she didn't want to forget it somew-
"Abigail Williams!"
She blinked, then looked around, confused. It took her almost a full second to see the woman standing on the podium at the bottom of the atrium looking around, seeming impatient. Abigail flushed, and quickly stood up and rushed down.
When she reached the bottom of the steps, she said breathlessly,
"Here, ma'am," but the woman didn't say anything, merely handed her a pair of extremely over-engineered gloves and shooed her out the tunnel that led up to ground level from the bottom, hardly wasting another second before calling the next name, while Abigail hastened out of the way and then entered the tunnel.
It was an interesting structure. It led from the very bottom of the auditorium, almost fifty feet down, to the very top, at ground level, emerging among the pillars. The last stretch was a staircase, but otherwise it was a gently inclined slope that wound around the seating area, slowly growing less steep as it spread out, running under each seating row before curving a bit more outwards and then moving up to the next row, and repeating it all again. And all of this in a deposit of solid stone that encompassed the entire structure. Apparently, even the pillars above had been carved from the same piece of granite.
Abigail had heard of it from her tutor. He had seemed endlessly fascinated with it, with the way the curves were planned, mapped out, and then executed so perfectly. It was his opinion, and Abigail shared it, that such unerring precision could not have been formed out of rock by an unaided human, though it was often listed among the few technological marvels that were not created because of someone's ability.
Her home village still used lanterns, for Atrius' sake. People were far too concerned with capturing and utilizing different abilities, when they should be focusing on actual research, using the resources the land provided. Ever since people started to get abilities, suddenly all anyone cared about was getting on their good side.
Abigail followed silently as her group, Group Twenty-Two, was divided into squads of five. One by one, her squad members walked up and hit the strength-testing machine. Normally, Abigail would try to analyze it, but not right now. Right now she was too busy being angry.
This world was ruled by those with power, and Abigail hated it. She hated it so much. If only she could have the power to destroy this world order. That's what she wanted. Upend it and toss it out. Replace it with something better.
Abigail was pushed forward a step, and her legs did the rest. She said her name absently, following the others' example, and then she just stared at the machine.
Its flat, black, reflective surface seemed to mock her as much as the whispers of her squadmates. Most of them were fourth tier, one was high-end third, but Abigail was on the bottom of third tier, almost at second. Normally she wouldn't mind them laughing at her. Normally. But right now, she was fed up with all of it. She didn't care what score she got.
That stupid machine, looking so refined and untouchable. It practically screamed out the ego of the person who made it.
I hope the lot of them fall to Atrius, and soon, Abigail thought vehemently, then she hit the drum, her ability activating as she did. The worst part about it was that she couldn't even do it at will. People called her mother only good for lighting a candle, but Abigail couldn't even do that. Her ability only emerged when she was hurt or in danger.
But to her surprise, a wave of heat passed over her as she hit the machine. She turned around, confused, then glanced up at the display above the machine. It read thirty-two, greater than anyone else in her squad.
Abigail frowned. There was no way she did that. She turned to look at her squadmates, confused, only to find them staring at something else. And when she looked, there he was, by the machine immediately to her left.
Hashim Kamal. According to whispers she had overheard, the wave of fire had come from him. She looked up at his score, then gaped.
The display read ninety-nine. But that wasn't what interested her.
The most interesting thing was that the first digit was broken. The only thing there was a faintly glowing melted piece of metal.
Hashim Kamal had broken the measurement machine.
There it was. The power she so desired. The ability to destroy the system. It wasn't in a faction, nor in an invention, but instead in the very thing this twisted society had somehow produced, the epitome of its desires, though the people were yet to discover it.
It was in a person. One, singular person.
Hashim Kamal.
And one way or another, she would get him to assist her, even if she had to manipulate him.