Panic (Dark Light Series, Book 3): Sample Chapter
Chapter 1: Jet
—Alex—
Alex tapped the glass of a wide rectangular window. Sitting on his bed with his forehead pressed against the glass, he watched a sky of endless clouds pass by. He was flying. Given his own private room on the sonic jet, he felt like he’d spent the last half hour marveling at how fast the white puffs of condensation were left behind. Cruising at a speed three times faster than the average commercial jet, the supersonic aircraft blazed through the sky, leaving tendrils of air to slip over its wings. Its time efficiency refusing to compromise amenities.
Although relatively small, the room contained a full fridge, personal bathroom, and shower. A digital interface appeared in every section of the wall he turned and a lightweight circular glass remote connected him to the room’s manual commands. Birds flew over the backdrop of a moving mountainous wall theme, which served as the room’s wallpaper like the background of a computer. An air decompressor built into ventilation accounted for the elevation adjustment of the ears, while a smart adapter automatically gauged and regulated a comfortable room temperature gauge by his body heat.
Picking at a thin white bandaid film, set around his wrist, he stared at the pale blue light which pulsed beneath it. Before boarding the jet, a medical tierless with a white and red cap stuck a needle in him, saying something about protocol as she did so. Thirty minutes after takeoff, his arm still throbbed. The elite guards had escorted him to his room shortly after the automated aircraft authorized movement in flight and from then on, had left him alone. Freedom he enjoyed.
His eyes drifted again to the dark formal blazer and pants which hung outside the closet. Too lazy to bother with anything other than relishing his solitude, he stared at it from afar. He also glanced every so often at the folded clothing on a metal platform that accompanied it. Scooting off the bed, Alex padded across the heated wood floor. Decorated down the front by two rows of engraved gold buttons, the double-breasted black blazer sported a red stripe over the cuffs and across the lapels marking it the uniform of a first year. Twin gold letter CAs pinned the collar, with a red tab dashed beneath. Folded on the side resided a white dress shirt, long black socks, and underwear atop the metal platform, an outfit completed by dress slacks and the pair of shined dress shoes lain together on the floor.
On the wall, a large blue dot glowed to life.
“Hello Alex,” an automated voice filled the room, pulsing in sync with the dot as it spoke. “I’m Sophia, your personal AI, also known as an artificial intelligence smart-system. I’m your cadet assistant for Corpus Academy. Congratulations on your admission. As you can see, laid out before you pressed and ironed by yours truly, is the academy’s dress uniform which you will wear to your monthly class assemblies and all formal campus and networking events at the battle-school.”
Alex stepped back and stared at the wall. “What the—?”
“I’m sorry,” the AI continued, in a peppy tone. “You must have questions. Ask me. What I can help you with?”
“Um, I—I didn’t sign up for—” Alex said and glanced back at his bed, regretting his decision to get up at all. “I don’t go to school here, machine lady.”
“My name is Sophia, your personal assistant. Correction. You have never attended an educational facility in Kaiga or any allied nations. You are neither affiliated with Victashia nor any of their allies. The Confederacy of Lagos also has no record of your existence. Would you like to know why?”
“I’m an Oddity?” Alex guessed.
“Yes,” Sophia said, pulling his record of Kaiga up on the wall. Alex didn’t bother trying to read the strange Lansar script. “Born in Portland, Oregon within the country of the United States of America, Alex, you are a registered Oddity from Earth. You are currently the only person in Kaiga to hold such a unique ethnic background, although there are currently four other living oddities in the world. However, while they are tiers. They all rank extremely low in creativity and positivity. Above all, they are handicapped in the belief of their own ability, trapped in dogma or denial. Be proud you have the rare opportunity to serve Kaiga, your new nation, in such a profound capacity. Corpus Academy is the sole gold tier secondary school in Kaiga. Located in the province of Miron it has consistently produced the finest battlemage officers for over two centuries and—”
“Hold on,” Alex said.
“Yes? How can I assist?”
He gestured at the clothes. “Why do I have a uniform?”
“You have been accepted and enrolled in Corpus Academy as one of the three hundred incoming freshmen of 3020.”
Alex blinked. “What year?”
“3020. Is there a problem?”
“I’m not—I don’t belong here,” Alex said, and taking another step back, he turned for the door. “I have to go home.” He stopped, the silver door had no handles of any kind. It was closed and unlike a door that could simply be pushed open, was sealed shut. “How do you even open this?”
“Alex,” Sophia intoned over the room speaker. “To open a door, put your hand to the smart-metal.”
“Thanks,” he said, following the advice.
“Glad to help—”
A flash of red-lit up around the door perimeter before fading.
“Error,” said the AI, the glowing blue dot appeared over the door. “Per the orders of your guardian, you cannot leave this room without wearing the academy uniform.”
“Huh? But you just said…” Alex said, trailing off as he put his hand to the door again. The same red flash barred his exit.
“Error,” Sophia repeated. “Per the orders of your guardian you cannot—”
“Shut up. I heard you the first time.”
“Understood, Alex.”
“Who’s my guardian?” he asked. “Wilson?”
“His Excellency Director Wilson Milson of the Commerce Sector has been assigned as your temporary guardian and academy sponsor by the joint sanction of their Supremacies, the Keepers of the Kingdom.”
“Who?”
“The Keepers of the Kingdom—”
“No, not them,” Alex said. “I meant, why do I have to walk out in that thing?” He gestured to the uniform.
Sophia’s blue dot bobbed on the wall. “The Corpus uniform has been a part of the academy’s tradition since it was first sponsored as a military battle-school by the Kaigan administration in—”
“No, shut up,” Alex said and rubbed his head. “You won’t let me out until I put it on?”
“Affirmative.”
“What, does the uniform have a chip in it or something?”
“Negative. The Corpus uniform—”
“How do you know if I’m even wearing it?” Alex cut in and glanced around. “Cameras?”
“Socratic lenses cover the entire wall of this room from every angle to ensure user moderation and interaction will not be impaired.”
For a moment, Alex said nothing. “Then,” he said quietly, unnerved. “You can see me?”
“Yes!” Sophia said with an enthusiastic chirp.
Alex put a hand on his arm, uncomfortably. “Will you still be able to see me when I change?”
“Affirmative,” the AI replied. “However, due to the addition to the personal privacy law act on page 455, section 5A, paragraph three: the monitoring of citizens through artificial intelligence is regulated by—”
“Hey, um,” Alex interrupted, “do you have an off button?”
“You are not an administrator.”
“Turn off!” Alex shouted.
“Negative,” Sophia replied. “Command not processed. You are not an administrator.”
“I’m not going to let you watch me dress.”
“Whatever do you have to hide?”
“My… balls,” Alex muttered, feeling self-conscious in his hospital pajamas. “I have no clothes underneath this thing.”
“Not to worry, Alex,” said Sophia. “Per the personal privacy act, all inappropriate recordings will be deleted within thirty days.”
“That’s… this is terrible. It’s like, you’re spying on me.”
“I don’t understand,” the AI said and repeated in a haunting tone. “Whatever do you have to hide?”
* * *
Putting his hand to the door, Alex walked out of his room in the black blazer of the Corpus uniform. Passing down a dimly lit hall, he turned into the cabin lobby. In a plush circular booth, Wilson sipped at a drink. Swiping at the air, he handled business affairs on his digital display. For a moment, Alex looked on from the open entryway before he walked inside. Hearing him, the director looked up.
“Oh, so you finally got around to wearing it,” the man said, appraising the uniform. “Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t suit you.”
“Wilson,” Alex asked and touched the white film on his wrist, where the faint blue light still pulsed. “What did you put in me?”
The man looked at him for a moment, then turned back to his work. “A tracker,” he said absently. “You are confirmed to be valuable, after all.”
“What—what does that even mean?”
Glancing out the window, Wilson motioned to him. “Sit down.”
Starting forward, Alex paused, wary. They were not alone in the room, two elite guards stood by the wall. Close enough to act, but far enough to ignore. “I thought I was below you,” he said cautiously.
“You are,” Wilson agreed, “but I invited you to sit in my presence. Be honored and follow the order. Make me repeat myself twice, and you’ll stand.”
Alex slipped into the booth across from him. “Why—why do we have to fly on this thing?”
“How else would we get to Corpus?” the man retorted. “Do you expect me to walk?”
“I expected privacy.”
“You were just in a closed room.”
“One filled with cameras,” Alex scoffed.
Wilson laughed. “As if your primitive technology didn’t watch you when you were back in America.”
“It—” Alex began in protest.
“No matter,” the director said and took another sip of his alcohol. His gaze turned back to the window. “We will land on Corpus’ campus within ten minutes.” Soaring over the sprawling city where skyscrapers stretched to touch the sky and the bright lanes of air-cars could be seen through the clouds, the sonic jet slowly began to reduce its speed and direct itself to the academy’s landing strip.
“That,” the man continued pointing, “is Corpus Academy.” Even from the sky, Alex could see the enormous gate which stretched around a vast area of land of over a thousand acres. Domes and large buildings scattered a campus which, as they rapidly descended, seemed to go for as far as the eye could see. “It’s the top tier battle-school of the country,” Wilson went on. “The hell where pampered cadets are reborn anew.”
Sitting back after a moment, Alex watched the man with a brooding expression. There was something that’d bugged him ever since they’d left the hospital, which Wilson wouldn’t tell him. “What happened to Neal?”
“Oh, him,” the man said dryly, turning his eyes from the window. “Nothing.” He smiled. “It was all a setup.”
Alex stared at him. “What?”
“A test of your resolve,” Wilson continued dismissively. “You were being gauged by the rate of your heartbeat. In other words—monitored. The Keepers were interested in your reaction with America and Victishia being mentioned in the same sentence. However, your heart rate did spike quite that adamantly when Neal mentioned your country. It was interesting but predictable. No doubt, your lingering ties will be cut off soon enough. Yet, you also reacted to the mention of Victashia. There was… debate to whether there was a connection. The similarities between America and Victashia.” The words dripped off his tongue like poison. His slate-blue eyes watched Alex with the intensity a bird would prey, calculating, and cold.
“I—I don’t know anything about that place,” Alex said. “Neal said all that on his own.”
“A true Kaigan would have denounced the enemy to his country,” Wilson muttered and swallowed back another sip of alcohol. His expression suddenly turned thoughtful, and he chuckled. “Tazing Neal, though… that was fun.”
“Why am I going to school?” Alex changed the subject.
The director eyed him for a moment and smirked. “How else will you receive the training you need?” he said. “Besides, its where the Keepers want you stationed. What they say goes… Of course, I’m against it. Even if you are an oddity, someone of your… uh, caliber surely belongs in a lesser school, amongst lesser stock. Your tier hasn’t even been confirmed, and yet you’re already admitted. Rank favoritism. They think you’re something special to be putting you in the same class as the Paragon. Perhaps, they’ll arrange to mix your blood with the golden star of your generation. Oddities are rarely spat from the Dark Realm’s titus sands, after all. Either way, you should count yourself lucky.”
“What’s a Paragon?”
“She,” Wilson said with a sober look, “is our only salvation.” Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, the director placed a square chip device on the table and indicated to it with a gesture. “A gift of sorts. Put it on.”
“How?” Alex asked, picking it up. He turned it over ponderously.
Smiling, Wilson tapped the band coiling his under his ear. “Press it against your neck, under the ear.”
Alex looked down at it and holding it forefinger to thumb, he pressed the chip-like device where he was told. A spasm surged through his body and slamming his head on the table, he fell out of the booth in a crumpled heap. Sweat rolled down his face. The veins along his neck went purple, highly visible. Staring up, he lay there in a silent scream.
His head felt like it was being split apart. Everything he’d ever known, anything he’d ever learned, his memories, himself, all fragmented for a moment before rushing back in again re-filed and organized. Shuddering as the pain subsided, Alex gasped, coughing with heavy breaths as if he’d just run a mile. A red trickle of blood slid down the side of his neck. A tool for his brain and embedded into his skin, the device felt like a part of him.
“What the hell?” Alex seethed, sitting up with his hand on his neck. “What did you do to me?”
“It’s just a precautionary measure,” Wilson said. “A helpful piece of technology, if I do say so myself. You handled the pain admirably. I’m almost surprised you survived. Yours is more advanced than most, there’s only one other who has the same model.”
“Server encryption complete,” an automated voice said in Alex’s head. “Subject connected.”
A digital display lit up before Alex’s eyes. Dumbfounded, he reached out and passed his hand through it. Accidentally choosing a command, music began to play in his head.
Looking around, Alex got up, bewildered. “What is this? How do you turn it off?”
“It’s called a nano-computer,” Wilson said, chucking back the rest of his alcohol. “It has a steep learning curve but will be your primary tool when you’re in the academy. See it as a parting gift.”
“I don’t want it,” Alex said, trying to pull it out. “How do I take it off?”
“You can’t,” Wilson smiled. “You already put it on.”
Hello! We’re D.J. Hoskins
We are Davena and Jason Hoskins, co-authors of 30+ books and siblings who write under the pseudonym D.J. Hoskins. Three years apart and in our twenties, we have been fascinated by stories from a young age. Davena is a student attending Princeton University, and Jason attends Georgetown University.
