Synesthete

by

Nathanael Gassett

Prolog: The Trains


This is a history of the City Chromatic. It was created long ago by people whose names are no longer remembered. They built the city as a unique experience, as the ultimate projection of art. The entire city was the canvas, dividing Chromatic into eleven districts: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Violet, Indigo, Black, White, Gray and Brown. Everything within the City is colored, and district colors must never be mixed. The grass and plants were injected with dyes, the streets painted, animals bread for certain colors, the people's clothes, the cars, the buildings, the signs, the paper, everything in each district must be within the shade of the district's color. It was quite a sight to walk through the City; it was a great symbol of beauty and order.
But beauty may easily be tainted, and often times when all colors are brought together an ugly shade is produced. So it was with the city. The crime rose steadily, the people grew ever evil. Homes were broken into, blood stained every street; nowhere was safe, every open space like a dark alley. The thieves and criminals held no shame and went forth with all bravery. There was never a united company, there was no banning together into gangs, nor was there any coming together to stop the singular criminals.
It was crime, not color that then ruled the City.
The Creators looked down from their tower and saw that what they had created was evil, what they had created had brought no peace to the world. They could not contain bliss in a single city, for even it was too large.
The Creators spoke amongst themselves and decided that it was time for a new creation: they would abandon the City and try again. They planted a garden, the most wonderful garden ever seen by any on the earth at that time. It would be a place of perfect power, a place of perfect peace. More sacred than Eden, it would be the greater sister of the two. They decided that this was better than the first creation. As planned, the Garden was smaller than the City, only so many would be able to come and those who did would be more carefully controlled. They were determined to control peace this time, and the Garden would allow them to do just that.
They built trains, many trains with many tracks, all with a straight course to the Garden, they were the only way to get there, the only thing allowed through the gates.
Tickets were sold at the Field, their price outrageous, riches determining who would go. Citizens sold all to buy one, homeowners put their houses to market; husbands sold their wives for sexual pleasure; mothers sold their children as slaves. Friends murdered friends for their belongings, sisters killed mothers, brothers their fathers, unlocking their inheritance for the sake of a single ticket.
All colors burned with selfish rage.
The tickets dwindled with the sanity of all, and soon but a few remained. The last few tickets were bought and locked away in a unique safe, guarded by color, protected by shade. Only the Synesthete can unlock it, only the Synesthete can see the invisible guardians, and all would fight to have him.
The Captains of the City, Saviors they are called, are determined to have those tickets. The Synesthete’s identity is unknown, but his condition is not. The Saviors issued a new law, banning synesthesia, capturing all whom they could find that had it. They tested these “Synners”, every one they could catch, but none could unlock the safe. The Synners were killed, and the Saviors vowed to never stop their hunt, not until the Synesthete is found.



The First Shade: Gray

The Narrative Begun by Hector

“Do you see the colors too?” she asked me. We were in the Gray Room, and all was pale and lifeless. I said nothing, acting as if she had not spoken at all.
“I see them all the time,” the little girl sighed. Looking to the floor she whispered, “I see them when the world makes a sound. People have color too.” She looked up at me again, kneeling with her hands in her pale little pockets. “Your color is a golden brown, like amber. It’s--”
“Shut up, deviant!” I exploded, slapping the girl across the face, sending her to the ground. “Do you want to die?!”
The little girl wept, dusty chalk from the floor staining her dress and face. Her tears pushed the pale powder from her cheek, cutting canals down her face. A spot of red grew in color on her left cheek, the only subtle change in the whole room.
“What did I do?” the little girl choked. “I was just--”
“Not another word!” I bellowed, catching the attention of others around me, the crowd tried to scoot away, but every inch of space was taken, filled by flesh.
“Hector!” a new voice, Ellen's, sounded in a harsh whisper, “Leave her alone, she’s just a little girl!”
A woman from among the mass of tightly packed people stood to her knees, looking over the hoards of sitting gray captives.
“She was talking about colors!” I hissed back, jabbing an accusing finger at the chalk-covered girl. Sever heads turned away, they were smart enough not to want any part in this conversation.
“What’s wrong with that?” spoke the girl again, smearing the dust and tear mixture with the back of her hand. “My mother and father told me to never be ashamed of who I am or what I saw."
“And where are they now?” I asked in a tone most begrudging.
“...I don’t know,” replied the girl with sadness.
“They’re probably dead, fools that they were, telling you things like that. Don’t speak of what you see, the people here will kill you too if they hear it.”
The girl’s eyes opened wide, but that only aided the flow of tears. She was frightened out of her wits. She would break.
“Hector, don’t talk like that, you’ll scare her!” spoke Ellen again, crawling towards the girl, pushing past gray clad prisoners.
“If the truth frightens her, she has reason to be scared.”
“What truth?"
“The one we are all bound to.”
“We are bound to no truth, it does not exist. It’s no more than a man’s set of morals.”
“Think what you will, but if you talk like she was talking, you will be killed no matter what you believe.”
The woman reached the girl and snatched her up in her arms, pressing her filthy face to her pale charcoal breast. The child would not stop crying.
“She’s too young to know of things like that,” the woman whispered, trying to cover the girl’s ears. “You’ll give her night terrors.”
“There are worse terrors then those of the mind. She is awake now, it’s about time she stopped dreaming and faced the nightmare we all have to deal with.”
“Are you saying you see the colors too?”
“Of course not!”
The woman eyed me, seeking knowledge. I dismissed her and the child, “Just take her away before she causes more trouble.”
“And what am I suppose to do with her?”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you saved her.”
“Hector!”
“Take her or all the Saints here will know about her little pigmented friends.”
“I hope you get what you deserve, Hector, and you know better than I do what that punishment is.”
“Hell is a place for Synners, not Saints.”
“Then there must be something worse in store for you.”
“Take the girl, Ellen.”
Ellen gathered up the thick fabric of her skirt and laboriously crawled back to her original spot, dragging the girl with her. The overflow had filled her little sitting area, she had to push her way back, fighting for even a tiny section of the concrete floor.

The Narrative Continued by Ellen

There was no seating in the Gray Room. It was an empty shell. The floor was cold and hard, covered in a chalky gray substance that took the hassle out of cleaning spilled blood. The walls and ceiling were tall, stretching high up into the sky, vaulted like a basilica. The front and back walls were plain, gray concrete with two doors at each end as the only distinguishing features. The walls on the left and right held six acrylic windows hostage, putting them to work for lighting. They were tall, eight feet wide they rose to the ceiling, curving into a graceful half circle at the top. The light brought no comfort to the child I held in my arms. I whispered sweet lies of comfort and safety, but the girl continued to cry.
“Why did that man hit me?” her voice was still cracked.
“Because he was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of you.”
“How could he be scared of me, I’m just a little girl!”
“I know sweetie, I know, I don’t understand it either.”
I patted the girl’s head and stroked her long blonde hair.
“You’re prettier than he was anyway,” said the child snidely.
“Oh, well I should say so!”
“Your eyes match perfectly, the shade and everything, it’s just like the rest of you.”
I stopped combing the girl’s hair. I was head to toe in differing hues of gray; dark grays and light grays, pale grays and hard grays. Only my eyes were blue.
“Yours is such a pretty color blue. My mommy told me the ocean is blue, I bet it’s the same shade.”
I pressed her close, trying to silence her yet again. It seemed that I too feared this child.
“Sweetie. Sweetie, don’t talk like that.”
The girl wrestled her face from my arms, “Why not?” She was indignant.
“Shhh! Only talk of gray here,” I said mechanically, “no other color should be mentioned. Only speak of gray.”
“But why?”
“Shhhh! Just don’t talk about them.”
“Why did that man call me a deviant? That’s what the Saints call the...”
“Yes, yes, that’s what they call the Synners.”
“But, I’m not a Synner am I?”
“Only if you want to be.”
“But if that’s the way I was born --”
“Then you pretend. Pretend you are a Saint. Everyone does it, just pretend.”
“But I don’t want to pretend, I want to be what I am.”
“No, no, no, you can’t do that, not here. You need to be what they want you to be, nothing more, sometimes less, just for a little while. Pretend you don’t see the colors.”
“But--”
“Just do like I do, and pretend you can’t see them!”
I tightened my hand around a wad of my ashen dress, hoping the child wouldn’t pick up what I had dropped. But she did.
“You see them too!” she whispered in excitement.
I cursed and then whispered, "No, I don’t see anything but your dirty face.”
“You do see them. I can tell.” The child’s tone had changed; she sounded almost like an adult; a horrible, sadistic adult like Hector.
“Come on, let me clean you up.”
“Just tell me. Please. I’m alone here, I’m different, you said so yourself. Let me know I’m not alone.”
“Darling, you are alone. It doesn’t matter what I see or what I don’t see, nothing will change that.”
“Just tell me.” There was that odd tone again, it scared me, and against my will I submitted to her request, “Alright, alright, I see the colors too. Whenever someone talks I see them, different shapes float around people like little insects as they speak. You cry little yellow circles from within. There, do you feel any better now?" I didn't care by this point, I just wanted her to be quiet. The child smiled, again looking much older than she was. “That’s all I needed, thank you.” She stood up.
“What are you doing? Sit down!”
She walked through the crowd a few paces, the fool! She pulled something from her small pocket and raised it to her mouth.
“What are you...?"
Static emitted from the devise, the angry color buzzed like furious red bees before her. I recognized the sound.
“Oh God.”
The girl spoke into the devise, silencing the static, “Yes, I've found a Synner: female, late 40s, section D--”
“No! What are you doing! Stop that!”
The two doors in the front opened. A swarm of men in gray cloths and gray glasses stormed out of the unseen and charged towards me, “Everyone remain seated please, unless you want to be taken as well.”
The crowd looked around in a panic, but obeyed the order as I wrestled with the girl, screaming. The child knocked me to the ground with the strength of an adult. I was frantic for aid, “Hector!” I screamed, “Hector help me!”

The Narrative Continued by Hector

I again remained silent.
She bolted towards the back door, stepping on hands and faces, pushing through the crowd. I'd done it before, it was like running through water waist-high. She would never make it.
The hem of her skirt tore and snagged on someone’s shoe. She clawed at it wildly, freeing the tattered cloth and continuing to the door. Her breathing was heavy as dust and tears of fear and rage ripped down her face. She knew they would catch her. The door was never unlocked. The Saints reached her, taking hold of her arms. She screeched like a banshee, foretelling her own death. Ellen tried to turn around, tried to fight back, but it was useless. She knew it was useless, but by this point her actions were controlled by adrenaline, not reason. She wrenched her arm away; her captor’s nails cutting deep channels down her arm. Blood dripped onto the floor, the chalk sticking to it, turning her life liquid gray. The Saints soon regained control, holding her down from all angles.
Then the little girl, the child who she had held crying just a moment ago, approached her once more, a gray rag in her hands.
“Now do you see a reason to fear?” She shoved the rag into Ellen’s mouth, muffling her last cry as the drug took effect. Her eyes clouded over and she fell limp into the arms of her captors. As the Saints drug her away, the girl grabbed on of them by the arm, “Relay the chalk.” He nodded and followed the rest.
The child took her time and gazed through the crowd. Her eyes meet with mine, “Thank you sweetie,” she said in a tone that was sickening. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”



The Next Shade: Red

The Narrative continued by Alison


I gasped, inhaling sharply as my eyes snapped open. It made no difference in my vision whether they were open or closed, but my body pulled them open out of habit. I hadn't always been blind.
I felt my eyes move about in their sockets, seeing nothing but black, my least favorite color. The world was forever dark to me, but that is not to say that the world is without color, or that my eyes are blind to all.
I have synesthesia, the amazing condition that the City has outlawed. I have but one form of the 'disease', but it is one that I would not trade for any other.
My sense of smell is abnormal, heightened, and every smell has a color, each sent is visible in my mind. I can see people's color too, their pheromones inducing synesthesia, their presence is like a fog in my mind, a colored haze that is visible whenever they are close. Each person has their own unique shade, their own unique color and texture that seems to hover in front of the them. Now that I am sightless, the colors are all that I see. And though the colors are somehow peaceful, (often nicer than the person himself), and though very much a part of each person, it isn't the same as seeing someone's face and I regret the loss of my sight every day.
A glint of gold caught my attention. It was my husband, Shane.
I inhaled deeply and swung my feet out from under the sheets, the stiff fabric scraping my calloused feet unpleasantly but familiarly. My soles touched the cold concrete floor without pleasure, and I reached over to the side for my seeing stick. I felt the wooden side table, the paint was fresh and smooth, and moved my fingers slowly over until I felt the cold steel. The slick pole pushed the heat from my hands, taking with it the comfort I had felt in sleep. It was time to wake up.
With one more breath and a groan I pushed myself up, slipping the leather loop from my cane around my wrist. I didn't need it in my home, but I didn’t' want to forget it again, it would be suspicious for a blind to avoid people on the street without the use of an instrument or an animal.
I felt the cool morning air flow into the room as I neared the balcony; it aided in the waking effect. I always prefer the night to the morning; it's impossibly hard to wake up when your eyes still seemed closed.
The golden cloud moved slightly, the small fog-like tendrils branching off now and then like a slow flame. Shane always watched the City from our balcony. I used to watch it too.
I stepped out next to the color, my hands reaching until they felt the railing. It was chilled, like everything else, and though I couldn't see it I knew it was red. Everything was red here.
"Good morning," I said.
"Morning." He was not the talkative type, saying only what needed to be said.
"How's the City?" I asked, half knowing, half pondering the answer.
"Full of Saints, but their are Synners too."
"No. Not there. They're hiding someplace."
"We won't hid forever."
"We can't."
I wasn't sure I could convince myself to believe that. Looking down, I saw nothing. We where too high up for me to sense the pheromones of any citizens walking on their way to work, and the City was careful to keep the air spotlessly clean; it had no sent, and so no color. I remember being able to see people as they strolled down the sidewalks and streets, I had always wished there was a distinguishing mark between Synners and Saints, a slight difference in color, a shape or pattern that was unique to one group. But even to my synesthestic eye they look no different. That makes it so much worse; makes it hard to act on my justified prejudice.
"What time is it?"
"Six twenty-three."
"What, no second count this time?" I teased. One form of Shane's synesthesia revolved around time, each minute of each day has a color all it's own. He wares a watch for the sake of appearances, but needs it not for the telling of time.
"Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine..."
I felt him loosen up some; I think he might have been smiling too.
"How long till the meeting?'
"Twenty-five minutes, fifty-six seconds." He really was a master timesteller, and by far the best watchmaker in the City. We all enjoyed using our synesthestic gifts and Shane was no exception. There is something very pleasurable about the colors, they were far less sinister than the City's.
"Let's get ready."
I followed his color back into the warm, stuffy air, waiting near the bed and listening as he went to the closet. I don't need my eyes to tell you what he retrieved. For me, red pants and a long-sleeved shirt, leather gloves that had been dyed the color of blood, and a matching leather jacket that reached below my knees. This is my standard uniform for the month of November. It always had been, even before my sight was taken from me.
My husband helped me dress quickly; the others would be here soon.
"Do you want to wake Marilynn?" asked Shane.
I didn't, but I needed to, "Sure."
"I'll get breakfast ready."
"Something fast, Marilynn will have a fit if we eat during the meeting again."
I felt my way through the hallway, counting the steps to the side door. I reached out and knocked. The door vibrated slightly with each knock. I was pleased that I had counted right, hitting the door in its center. I heard my sister stirring, the sheets ruffling with a starched sound. I felt her light footfalls through the floor. I did not turn to face her, but stared into the blackness straight ahead. There was no point in my moving my head; there was nothing new to see on that side of my neck. The door opened and I saw her color, a hazy red, as bright as it ever would be. I knew she was already fully awake and thinking clearly, she is nearly the moment she wakes up every morning.
"Good morning," her voice was not quite as awake as her mind.
"Shane's getting breakfast."
"Just make sure your done eating before the meeting starts."
I nodded and counted my way back to the living room.
It's odd how one can feel space around them. I knew the moment I entered the living room that I was there for it felt as if the air suddenly got lighter, though there was more of it here.
The smell of fresh fruit wafted into my nose, the sound of a knife attacking a cutting board reached my ears. I followed the smell and the sound into the kitchen, holding my hands out a little just to be sure I wouldn't fall. I heard the ceramic clinking of plates and redware, then the sharp thud of them being set at the table. I ran my hand across the table until I found a chair. I sat down on the painted wood, feeling the familiar grains that it held. I felt for the fork and began to stab bits of fresh fruit, the juices squeezing out audibly. I loved strawberries, their rich green sent wafted up my nose, illuminating my mind. As I ate I watched the golden haze of my husband. I never tired of the color; it was always beautiful. I just wished I could see the rest of him. The color left me with half a picture, just a shining silhouette of what once was. I pushed the thoughts away and focused on my breakfast, the last thing I needed to do today was concentrate on my problems, they drew enough attention to themselves.
There was a knock at the door.
Shane's color vanished from the room like a phantom, almost making me wonder if I had seen it at all. I heard the door open in the other room; quiet greetings; footsteps.
Three fogs entered the room. Shane's golden haze lead the way, followed by the smooth, almost liquid green that I knew was Esther, and lastly a brown, more static than smooth: Knox.
"Good morning," I said without looking up.
"Morning," mumbled Knox. Though it was after 6:00 he wasn't awake yet.
"Hi, Alison!" piped Esther. I never had to worry about her being awake.
"You guys want some breakfast?" asked Shane. He had grown rather found of the both of them. We never had any kids, scared that we would pass on this curse, they were as close as we would get and they already had it. Knox lived at the orphanage, but they didn't care where he went as long as he was back by curfew, though he found it easy enough to sneak back out after the lights went out in the City. At first we didn't think he would be helpful at all, only keeping in contact because he was a Synner, his form of synesthesia seemed rather useless, knowing the gender and age of inanimate objects, but we soon found that it could be used as a memory aid. He is brilliant with directions, knowing each street corner and tile by it's gender, and has even used it to track people, their coat giving off this information.
For Esther, every thing she touches has a color unique to that object. She has to be careful when talking to others about any given object, making sure she refers to the color seen by all and not the synesthestic shade. She lived with a mother who seems to have forgotten about giving birth. Her mother had been married three times before and was constantly busy with a new husband, or lover, and never paid her daughter any attention. Esther didn't seem to mind, but I know that it has to get to her sometimes. When things aren't as they are supposed to be, there are reactions, even if we try not to experience them. That's something I learned the hard way.
"What do you have?" asked Knox.
"Raspberries, Strawberries, and some toast if you don't mind the dye." Shane answered.
"Have I ever minded the dye? It's in everything. Next they'll inject it into our bodies."
Esther's color brightened a bit, ever so slightly, I would have missed it were I not looking for it, "Do you really think so?" She sounded frightened. She always hated to think about what the City could do next. She used to be a bit naive about the scheme of things, and a lot calmer, but after she found out about what the City really does, and the agenda it has against people like us, nervousness and caution came hand in hand. Even so, I am not one who believes the ignorance is bliss, I think all would agree that it would be better to take a moment to look both ways before crossing the street than to walk blind, die, and never know what hit you.
"Don't worry," I assured her, "if they keep putting dye in all the foods like they have been, we won't have to get injections to change our color."
I heard the scraping of toast on the table. Esther had put her piece down.
"Lighten up," groaned Knox, "it was just a joke. No need to freak out." I heard the toast scrape the table again. Knox had picked it up. He was more pleasant in the afternoon, but that's not to say that he was every overly polite. He was certainly rough around the edges.
Marilynn entered the room. I watched, almost with regret that I had woken her up, as her color came close. I saw far too much of that hazy red cloud.
The colored essences of the resistance arranged themselves at the table, the sounds of scraping chairs and the putting away of food were prevalent in my ears
Marilynn had a way of taking charge that made me forever associate the color red with power, and also with a sibling's distaste
.
The Narrative Continued by Marilynn

The dishes were cleared and the food put away. The meeting was finally underway.
"As you might have heard, information has leaked to our sources that the Saviors may have new information on the one that we seek."
Knox spoke, "Sources? Do they have names?"
"Yes, but they will not be spoken. This is a dangerous business, Knox, it's not fun and games, it never was, and we all have scares to prove it."
My sister curled her hand into a fist beneath the table; her fingers turned white, the same color that had taken her sight. Knox half rolled his eyes, but I let it pass without punishment, if only for my sister's sake.
"I know that the information is not always reliable, the sources don't always come through, but we have to take every lead, we have to try every option lest we miss the one that leads us to the Synesthete."
Knox nodded. I got through to him at last.
"What kind of information is it," asked Shane, his voice bringing my mind back to the point of the meeting. He had a way of doing that.
"And where is it held?" My sister, Alison, added.
"The file may lead us to the residence of the one we seek, it is doubtful that she still lives there now, but it might give us a name, or at least a smaller region to search through, a forward address, something. It is stored in the Green District, in a computer in the downtown library."
"Why the library?" asked Esther. She always needed an explanation, "aren't there more protected places to keep it, like in the bank or a safe or something?"
"Banks are broken into, safes are stolen; the last protector of this city is secrecy. But, as you can plainly see, even that is failing. Fortunately for us, that downfall aids us, at least for now."
"But there has to be a pass code right," said Knox, "It's not like it's just going to be a directory out for the public to read."
"Your right, the file has a pass code and is encrypted as well. I received the pass code along with the information, but we're going to have to cipher it our selves when we get it back home."
"What's the password?"
I held up a piece of paper with a series of colored lines printed vertically across it: Blue, gray, indigo, yellow, red, violet, white, green. We all knew what it stood for, though I doubted any but Shane could remember its meaning.
"The letters are merely a sporadic few, they hold no meaning that I am aware of. Try to remember their colors, you may need that knowledge later on when we go to extract the file."
"Wouldn't it be better if we all memorized the actual letters instead of the colors?" Knox was always questioning my advice.
"No. The less information you all know, the better. If any one of you are to be caught, God forbid that ever happen, I don't want you to have to lie when you say that you don't know what's going on."
"And besides," added my sister, "Memorizing the color patter instead of the word pattern will help remind you to keep quiet about this whole operation."
Knox spoke again, "If you're the only one who is going to be hacking the computer, then why do we need to know the code as well? We don't even know what it means."
"Because I'm human too, and I might forget it."

The Next Shade: Green

The Narrative Continued by Marilynn.

We changed our clothes from red to green, hiding the new color as quickly as we had donned it, pulling red stockings over our green shoes, packing green gloves, green pens and green paper into a small red bag. We all wore long, crimson trench coats that came nearly down to the floor. Our stockings were long enough to take it from there, covering up the rest of the green. As we buttoned out coats from the collar to the bottom, the green was sealed completely within, like a pearl within a clam.
"Ready?" I asked, surveying our red-clad resistance. Everyone looked as the City said they should look, the varying shades of red piecing together to form the perfect image of City dress code.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
I stole one last glance at the code, not daring to take it with me. Being caught with a card like that, with all the colors put together in that way, there would be no denying that I was a Synner and not a Saint.
"Let's go."
We took the long spiral stair down to the first floor, the freshly painted red steps and red railing were dangerously smooth, as if covered in blood. We exited out of the back door into Crimson Street, one of the busiest in all the City. It was a bustling, blood-colored stream of people, and I knew that it would sweep us away like a rapid if we weren't careful.
"Stay together," I cautioned, and then we slipped into the street, blending Synner and Saint in a way that no one would notice. We looked the same as anyone else there, there was no marking a Synner, not noticeable baring of the curse of Cain, nor the tattoo of one punished, we were mark-less and mingled with everyone else. But though we looked the same, we saw things completely different. The sounds of the crowd colored my vision, performing great arts on my synesthestic stage, making the mundane and everyday interesting, almost a show. Though it cursed us, at times it could be wonderful to have synesthesia.
We made our way to the crossing, shedding our red skins for our green ones, turning our jackets inside out, removing our red stockings and storing them in a green bag for later use. We passed the threshold without the alarm going off, signaling that we were safe. It was always a tense moment, passing under the sensor, if any of us had missed a speck of wrong color, there would be Saviors to inspect us, possibly even question us. There was no need for unnecessary risk, we were careful to show only green.
The district was large, but a bit smaller than the Red District, of course that could be said of all districts, Red was the largest.
We stopped a block from the library, by the small, planted forest that lay between the Red and Green districts. As the leaves changed from green to red, it would become part of the Red District, furthering the color's territory. For now, the trees belonged to Green.

The Narrative Continued by Knox

Marilynn called me over to where she was standing beneath the trees, I knew what was coming, and I wasn't happy about it.
"Yeah?"
"You and Esther are going to stay with Alison. Wait for me and Shane to finish in the library, are we clear?"
"Why don't I come with you?"
"Because three's a crowd. It will look suspicious."
"It will look like you're helping me with my homework."
"Then the teachers will try to help you."
"So let them. I can distract the employees while you and Shane have free access."
"We wouldn't need to distract the teachers unless you came along. It makes things more complicated. Stay here with the others."
"Why won't you just trust me?"
"I do trust you," -she lied through her teeth- "this just isn't a good idea."
"Whatever."
"Listen, no one's making you be a part of this, if you aren't going to follow instructions--"
"I'll meet you with the others."
I turned by back and walked away, ending the conversation with my words, knowing it would tick her off.


The Narrative Continued by Esther

We stopped to wait for instructions under the trees. Marilynn was talking to Knox, we all knew what that was about. I didn't mind waiting here at all; I loved the trees, the air was so fresh beneath them. I touched the leaves on a low branch; cool gray glowed along my hand. It was similar to Shane's color, but much lighter. I put my glove back on, the familiar transparent blue gracing my hands, and looked at my watch, 8:45:07 I wasn't sure if that was right though; on missions like these our interpretation of time needed to be exact. I asked Shane, he knew time better than any of us.
"Shane, what time is it?"
"9:04:04."
I knew that couldn't be right, but he said it so seriously.
"But, it can't be---"
"It's 8:46:09," Said Alison, though she was not correcting him.
"Remember the time," Shane said to me, confusing me further.
"What do you mean?"
Marilynn interrupted before I could get an answer.
"All right, me and Shane will go to the library, get the information and meet you all on the corner of Mint Street in a couple of hours, it will be busy with people by the time we get there. Hang out here for a little while before you go there, we don't want anyone having suspicions. Everyone clear?"
"Sure," said Knox sourly.
Marilynn flashed him a look I would not have liked to receive. I complied quickly and politely.
"Good."
Shane stood up and followed Alison, "Be sure to remember the time," he said. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I quickly memorized the numbers. White, blue, green, violet, black. I repeated the sequence to myself, white, blue, green, violet, black...

The Narrative Continued by Shane

We checked into the library, gaining an sixty minute pass to the computers. That would be plenty of time for Marilynn to find the file and begin the decoding.
We sat side by side in wheeled chairs, I kept watch as Marilynn typed; the terminals were not walled off.
She clicked off the library's electronic database and summoned the task bar to the green-tinted screen. Typing 'fwlgcmk3' into the search engine brought one result. She opened it and received a warning: "Tampering with the contents of this file may cause suspension of library privileges. Continue?" The library's security system was active.
With a few simple key commands she brought to the screen a dark green box that was blank save for a blinking widget. Typing "override//securityfwlgcmk3;code4cc" dismissed the warning without having to select 'yes' or 'no'. So far so good. The file opened and began to load. There were a over two hundred pages, all of them encoded, a mass of jumbled letters and symbols; it would take ages to decode, and that's just what I wanted.

The Narrative Continued by Claudia

"Mr. Wyeth, I believe there is a resistance."
"A resistance of what?" asked the lead Captain of the City, the Colorless Man.
"Of us."
"Under whose name?"
"The Synesthete, no doubt."
"They will not be a problem, see to it that my words are made true."
"They will be at the library in the Green District this morning at nine o'clock, someone tipped me off."
"Is the information reliable?"
"One can never be sure, a woman named Alison called the Savior's Office and told me they would be there."
"A fake name, but perhaps not false information. What if no one is there?"
"The new Harket novel is supposed to be good, perhaps I'll check it out."
Mr. Wyeth laughed in his vile way, pleased with the joke.
"Very well then, go find the resistance!"


The Narrative Continued by Marilynn

Shane seemed a bit nervous, more so than he had been on any other mission, even ones much more dangerous than this. I wondered why. It was just a simple extraction. It was like he knew something that he wasn't telling me, a bit of knowledge that I might need to know. I tried not to worry about it, and focused on decoding the file.
We had been here nearly and hour and the decoding was slow; the progress bar moving sluggishly along. We didn't have much time left.

The Narrative Continued by Shane

Claudia would be here any minute, our chance to capture her. Me and Alison both knew that Marilynn would never go along with it, but we had to try. Of course I felt bad about deceiving Marilynn, and I knew it would damage our trust, but if we could catch Claudia it would be worth it. She would know more about the Synesthete than we could ever learn from a file, even if one did exist. The one we were looking for was planted by ourselves. We know of Claudia's weakness, we know that her own blood will turn on her within a day without dialysis, if only we could keep her for that long.
Colored minutes passed by my mind, black the stronger, yellow slightly weaker, the pale tan off to the side. 8:59. Almost time.

The Narrative Continued by Marilynn

I clicked away, deleting our tracks, making our visit to the library nonexistent in the flow of recorded time.
My watched beeped quietly, a small yellow dot. 9:00.
"We better go," Shane warned, taking the portable drive from the computer.
We got up from our seats, would have to finish the decoding at--
The elevator door behind us opened: Claudia and a host of Saints stood in the opening.
"There they are," I heard her say. We were the only ones near the computer terminals; her murderous gaze was on us.
Shane told me to run.

The Narrative Continued by Knox

We waited several streets across; people were just beginning to exit the buildings and fill the roads, blocking our view of the library.
I heard faint gunshots from within. The citizens paid no attention to it, it was normal in this City, but we watched the doors intently. Citizens flooded the streets.
The doors burst open, Shane and Marilynn running down the high stair.
"Get ready," Alison warned. I heard Shane shout to Marilynn, "I'm right behind you, go to the others!" She cut through the crowd like a needle as he doubled back, his actions shouting the lie he had told.
Claudia and two of the Saints of Green exploded from the library, scanning the crowd.
Marilynn reached us, hysterical, Alison stopped her and tried to calm her down.
The frantic woman turned around and realized that Shane was no longer behind her.
"Where's Shane?"
"Marilynn please listen--"


The Narrative Continued by Marilynn

"Shane!" my voice cracked. The crowd devoured him in a sea of green.
"Where is he going?" I demanded, wanting a straight answer, nothing to soften the blow.
"He went to find Claudia," Alison said, trying to do just that.
"What?" I turned from them, my seeking eyes as useless as Alison's. There was only green to be seen.
Then it donned on me, "Esther, go find him."
"No," said Alison firmly. She thought she was the leader here, and she wanted me to know it. She always acted this way in the field. I ignored her as I did at home, "Esther, please, find Shane, look for his color!"
"Marilynn, he knows what he's doing, we don't need someone else getting lost."
"You have no idea what Claudia is capable of."
"She took my sight from me, I know what she can do!"
I ignored her again, "Esther, please," my voice strained, "find him!"
Like a frightened rabbit she stood there, shifting nervous glances between my sister and me.
"Go!"
She took off running into the crowd, ripping the gloves from her hands.
"Esther, no!" Knox shouted after her.
Alison grabbed my arm, "Come, I need to talk to you."
"Alison, we don't--"
"At least grant me that, sister, if nothing else."
I'm not a cold person, this was a request that I could comply to.
I followed her into an alley, "I don't know what you are trying to do, but it won't work, not like this."
I heard a sickening whack and put my hand to my head. Blood stained my hands. I fell to my knees.
Alison stood above me, blood showing brightly on her green cane. I fell further.
"I'm sorry, sister."
Black took over.

The Narrative Continued by Knox

"Her color is faded, she's out," Alison told me, "Hand me a rag."
I froze. The plan sounded fine when we talked about it, I had no problem with it, but seeing it in play, Marilynn on the ground with blood all around her, was different. Alison defrosted me quickly.
"Knox, the rag, now."
I dug a green cloth from my pocket and handed it to her. She felt along her cane until she came to the section with her sister's blood. She wiped the color from it, feeling the female cane with her hands to be sure.
"Is it all gone?"
"Yeah."
"Quick, help me pick her up."
I responded as if entranced. Marilynn was heavier than I thought, and I struggled to keep her torso in my arms.
"Where is the trash bin? The one we decided on?
They all looked similar, I couldn't focus, "I can't remember the gender."
"The big one, the male, older didn't you say? Think, Knox!."
"OK, there it is," we had gone over this before, but panic fogged my memory.
We shuffled over to the large green tub, trying not to drop her.
"OK, open it."
It was empty, the trash had been picked up on schedule.
She felt for the edge of the bin then dropped her sister's feet in. I nearly dropped the body from the momentum of the fall, Marilynn's body rattling against the empty, metal bin.
"Be careful!" Alison scolded, "place her in carefully."
Again I froze. I hate that I do that.
"Put her in the bin, it's the only place she'll be safe until we get back."
I couldn't move, Marilynn's head was still in my arms. Though I had clear instructions, I didn't know what to do. Her Blood dripped down on my arm.
"Oh just move, I'll take care of it. Head back to the apartment, you're done."
Still I could not move.
"Knox!"
I nearly dropped Marilynn, but recovered enough to hand her to Alison.
I turned from the scene; the sound of Alison closing the bin reached me. I didn't dare look back.

The Narrative Continued by Esther



I tried to focus on finding Shane. I tore off my gloves and ran into the crowd. A rainbow of colors flashed before me as I felt person after person, touching every glove-less hand. There were smooth hands, rough hands, reds, blues, purples, yellows, all colors of all shades; but no gray. I kept walking, trying to pick out the colors as they came. There were so many people; it was impossible to focus. The colors flashed and faded as if angry. I would never find Shane in all of this, I just couldn't do it. Then I remembered the time. I checked my watch: 9:03:39, I still had time. I raced to the center of the plaza, people bumping into me and sending color into my mind, I had to find the center of the tiled boardwalk, the light green circle. I pushed and shoved; trying to get there, color surrounding me everywhere. For a second, I almost wished they would go away.
Then I saw her. A child stood in the middle of the green street. Claudia.
I turned my back to her quickly, gasping. I didn't bother trying to hide the fact that I was scared. I held out my hands again, palms open, fingers spread, channeling color from all directions.
Come on Shane. I can't find you. You have to find me. I looked at my watch: 9:04:03. Please.
Gray flashed before my eyes, Shane! I grabbed the hand that caused the color and followed him to the left, crossing streets and passing people, stopping in an alley.
"Shane!" I nearly hugged him on the spot.
"I'm glad you figured out the plan. Come on, we don't have much time."


The Narrative Continued by Shane


I knew Ester was a smart kid; Marilynn doesn't give her enough credit. But I wanted her to be calm; that was the tricky part.
"Ester, I need you to listen, okay?"
"But Marilynn sent me to bring you back, Claudia is out there!"
"Look, Ester, it doesn't matter, we'll take this one at a time, okay? One thing at a time." Her voice trailed off, but her eyes were still in a panic. This might be harder than I thought.
"One thing at a time, understand? Only one thing."
She nodded but still looked scared. I don't blame her.
"All I need you to do is follow me, okay, and do exactly what I tell you to do, got it?"
"Uh huh.""Stay close." I grabbed her hand; hoping my color would comfort her, keep her calm. It seemed to work. Now for the hard part; capturing Claudia. I knew Marilynn would be furious, but we couldn't let her ego get in the way of something this important. We had to act, and deal with her chaos later.