Page 28 of Doom

“Thanks,” I said, fervently but distractedly, before rushing off.

She called out my name, sounding flabbergasted, but I didn’t have time to chitchat, especially considering how long-winded she could be at times. I felt slightly annoyed with myself that it had been posted, but I’d missed it. Tons of people would likely volunteer, and spots would no doubt be limited. I needed this. Although my head knew Doom had died, my heart refused to let go. If this telepathy business worked, I could try to reach out to him, or to Legion, or Wrath.

I entered Room 24A, a classroom repurposed temporarily as a sort of clinic. To my disappointment, only humans greeted me there, not even a Hulanian. I didn’t know any of the medical staff administering the treatment. They apparently arrived just yesterday and had that secret agent vibe to them that slightly gave me the creeps.

Before we could even enter the small auditorium where they would give us an info session about the project, we each had to submit to an MRI. The device reminded me of a round hair dryer hood. Seeing a few people ahead of me getting eliminated right there freaked me out. The test only lasted seconds that felt like forever and a day. I all but held my breath while waiting for the young man who had administered it to give me his verdict. When he smiled and gestured with his head for me to go in, I could have wept with relief.

We were ushered into a pretty bare white room, with five rows of six square table desks a lighter shade of beige than the sturdy plastic chairs behind them. Two thirds of the seats were already filled with a mix of men and women from sixteen to late forties. I settled near the front so that I wouldn’t miss out on anything and to avoid getting distracted by the people sitting ahead of me. In the twenty minutes it took to fill the room, I again read through the material that had previously been handed out explaining the general nature of the project.

All chatter suddenly ceased, a hush falling over the room when a man and a woman finally came inside to address us. The room thrummed with expectant energy as we collectively held our breaths.

In his late fifties, tall and lanky with short blond hair, narrow brown eyes and an impressively long nose, the man gestured with a certain degree of deference for the woman to proceed into speaking first. She had a nerd-chic look with her patterned sweater and grey cigarette pants beneath her white lab coat. She looked at us with pitch black eyes through her oversized glasses that somewhat softened her attractive but stern face.

“Hello everyone and thank you for answering our call in such large numbers,” said the woman. “My name is Dr. Anita Shivani, Chief Medical Officer of the AACD—which stands for Alien Alliance Coordination Division. This is my colleague, Dr. Peter Landon. You have come here as volunteers for one of the most momentous events in human history. I will not bore you with details again about the Xian Warriors and the Intergalactic Coalition who have come here to help us defeat the Kryptids, but instead I will get straight to the point. You are here to enter an experiment which should result in you gaining a set of psychic abilities that will help us in the war effort. This procedure was developedbya humanforhumans specifically to grant us the ability to communicate and interact on the psychic level with the Warriors.”

My heart skipped a beat upon hearing those words. I first thought they were planning for us to merely interact with our own human troops, but to hear that we were actually being prepared to work directly with the Warriors exceeded all my hopes. I wouldn’t have to sneakily seek to establish contact with Doom as I’d originally planned since that would be part of my very role.

Dr. Shivani signaled Dr. Landon with her head. He nodded in response then turned on the giant screen on the wall behind them.

“This brief video will explain to you the various steps of the experiment you are about to partake in,” she continued. “Please listen carefully and write down any questions you may have. We will then have an open Q&A session for as long as you require. Any and all questions are welcomed. We want you to feel safe with this process, and we will accompany you every step of the way.”

The twenty-minute video left me excited and dying to know even more. They didn’t dive into any of the technical details or the science behind the procedure. To the relief of many, no injections or implants would be required. Over a period of two weeks, every twelve hours, we would be required to drink a tall glass of water in which they would pour the contents of a small vial. It contained some sort of enzyme that would help develop our psychic powers. It sounded almost too simple to be true. However, in order to make sure we were taking the treatment in the right dosage and in a timely fashion, a schedule would be established for when we were to come get our next drink—essentially one in the morning and then the second in the evening.

The best part was that we had absolutely no other changes to our daily routine: no physical or dietary restrictions, no quarantine, no isolation. In terms of side effects, the worst thing they mentioned were mild to severe headaches, temporary dizziness, or blurred vision in the hour after receiving the enzyme. All such side effects were expected to fade within a couple of hours with no risk of recurrence unless the tester was exposed again to the alien enzyme.

While quite open about the fact that a successful response to the treatment would give us telepathic abilities allowing us to discuss with a single target over a long distance, even up to hundreds of kilometers, the most powerful among us could also mentally communicate in groups. However, they hinted at additional abilities that some of us might develop but refused to go into details about that, claiming it to be classified for the time being.Thatnaturally got me beyond curious.

After the flurry of questions finally died down, Dr. Shivani cooled our general excitement with sobering words of caution.

“I should warn you that having passed the first scan and attending this presentation does not guarantee your acceptance into the program,” Dr. Shivani said gently but firmly. “Those of you still interested will still have to sign all the release forms and then pass a psychological evaluation that will determine your suitability for the role. But even should you pass that, there are no guarantees your body will respond sufficiently to the enzyme treatment. Some of you may not develop powerful enough psychic abilities to be assigned to a Warrior.”

After exchanging a glance with Dr. Shivani, Dr. Landon continued the warning in a less friendly fashion.

“Remember that this is not a game. The lives of the Warriors and of the billions of people they are trying to save could be lost if you misuse the gift that will be bestowed upon you. Please, understand that if you are here merely for the coolness factor of saying ‘I can read minds,’ you will be culled from the program,” Dr. Landon said sternly.

I didn’t miss how his gaze flicked towards a young man at the back who had asked a series of questions that had raised a few eyebrows; namely, if there was a chance we’d develop powers such as telekinesis, teleportation, or mind control. Technically speaking, they were fair questions considering they had hinted at potential additional psychic powers. However, it was the way he had asked them, like a teenager would speak of how awesome it would be to have superhero abilities, making us wonder what his true motivations were.

“We’re looking for people willing and eager to serve for the greater good, even putting your lives at risk for the sake of others,” Dr. Landon continued. “This is not only an opportunity to save your planet from annihilation, it might also be your chance to see other worlds and save them as well.”

A common gasp rose from everyone in attendance as his underlying meaning sank in. Of course, if we proved powerful enough, the Vanguard and the Coalition might want us to continue to serve in the defense of the other planets coming under attack. A shiver of excitement coursed through me at the thought of exploring the galaxy alongside my golden giant.

If he’s still alive…

I chased away the glum thought and focused on the final words of Dr. Landon and Dr. Shivani. At the end of the presentation, they gave each of us a thick pile of documents to read and sign, discharging them of any responsibility.

I signed up. Doom promised he would get back to me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t meet him halfway.

I handed over my signed forms to the clerk waiting to collect them outside the room. She glanced over them to make sure I had properly filled it then, to my utter surprise, her eyes widened upon seeing my name.

“Oh, you are Dr. Lashan!” she exclaimed. “You may begin the treatment right away. You have been dispensed from the psychological evaluation.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, baffled.

“Your name has been added to the fast-track list,” the clerk said with a friendly smile.

“How? Why? By whom?” I insisted, taken aback.

“I was hoping you would tell me,” she said with undisguised curiosity. “You must have friends in high places because only the Vanguard and the Intergalactic Coalition can add people to this list. The psychological evaluations are monitored by the psychic people from the Vanguard and by some of the Warriors as well. I’d kill to meet one in person instead of always catching a glimpse from a distance.”

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