The Ninety Percent

The air inside the orientation hall was thick, humming with an electric tension as if the very walls bore witness to the weight of fate pressing upon the thousand souls gathered within. A vast chamber of curved onyx panels and skyborne luminescence, it pulsed with the quiet hum of neural interfaces syncing, SkinScreens flickering like constellations on the bodies of the assembled initiates. At the front, on a floating podium in the center of the hall, stood an instructor—silver-haired, clad in a deep cerulean robe that swayed like a shadow cast by history itself. He tapped a single finger against the podium, and the sound rang like a judge's gavel.

"Settle down," he commanded. His voice did not need to rise; it cut through the murmurs like an executioner's blade.

The hall obeyed. Silence rushed in, vast and final.

"I want you all to look to your right."

Heads turned. Eyes scanned faces, each initiate searching the unknown futures reflected in another's expression.

"Now, look to your left."

Again, they obeyed. A thousand shifting gazes, some wary, some defiant, some bearing the sharpness of untempered steel.

"Ninety percent of you," the instructor intoned, "will not be here after the preliminary stages."

A collective exhale. A few nervous chuckles quickly swallowed. Kalvis felt something drop inside his stomach like a leaden weight. He glanced at Gan. The other boy, usually composed, showed no outward reaction—but Kal knew better. There was a shadow in his eyes now, a calculation running its cold fingers through his thoughts.

"You will find the program for the next two weeks transmitted to your neural interfaces," the instructor continued. A ripple moved through the crowd as hundreds of initiates swiped their fingers across their SkinScreens, retrieving the schedule.

The Dismissal

"Study it well. The next fourteen days will determine the course of your lives." A pause. A moment heavy enough to warp time itself. "You are now dismissed."

The chamber stirred to life, voices rising, feet shuffling, bodies moving as if the floor beneath them had suddenly become unstable.

Kal and Gan stepped into the corridor, the heavy doors hissing shut behind them.

"Two weeks." Kal exhaled sharply. "And ninety percent? I can't believe they have such a high cut-off rate."

Gan folded his arms, his voice as steady as a metronome. "Gallantry is a dangerous profession. Better to send someone home in tears than in a body bag."

Kal glanced at him, about to reply, but hesitated. Gan wasn't looking at him—he was looking through him, beyond, lost in the cold corridors of his own thoughts. It was a moment brief as a breath, but Kal caught it. He knew that look. The weight of yesterday sat heavily on his friend's shoulders.

Kal sighed. "Very true…" His gaze drifted downward, his mind suddenly elsewhere. Art. Karina. Roqs. Their faces, their voices—thinking about the promise he had made to Karina. He felt something tighten inside his chest.

Fingers snapped in front of his face. Snap snap.

"Oi, you sano?"

Kal blinked. Gan's face was inches from his own, brow raised.

"Yeah," Kal muttered. "Just got lost in my thoughts." Then, with sudden fire, he grinned. "But I know we'll make it through!" His eyes burned, wild and unyielding.

Sarsona's Arrival

Gan, by contrast, exuded pure nonchalance, his voice dry. "Your optimism is a wonder of modern science."

From behind them—

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyyy!!!"

The two turned just in time to see a figure moving at a near-run, a streak of energy slicing through the corridor. And then—

Thwack.

Gan's head jerked forward as a palm met the back of his skull with the force of a well-placed meteor strike.

Kal stared. The assailant, standing before them with arms crossed, was a girl—no, a storm in human form. Platinum blonde locks with golden streaks, luminescent sky blue eyes, a grin that could start wars. There was an ease to the way she stood, like someone who had never questioned whether the ground beneath her feet belonged to her.

"You absolute void-brained gutterspawn," she said, voice somewhere between exasperation and amusement. "I was looking for you everywhere before orientation started. Thought you got yourself deleted."

A Sibling Dynamic

Gan sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm sorry. I went with my roommate and completely forgot to send a message."

The girl's eyes flicked to Kal. "And who's this?"

Gan straightened. "Sarsona, this is my roommate, Kalvis. Kalvis, my sister, Sarsona."

Kal's heart reacted before his brain did. A thunderous rhythm, as if someone had taken a war drum and lodged it directly inside his chest. Time folded in on itself, the world narrowing to the curve of her lips, the glint in her eyes, the way her presence felt like the pulse of a dying star—brilliant, impossible to ignore.

Metaphorical arrows struck his heart, one after another, an unrelenting volley of fate itself. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Sarsona clapped her hands directly in front of Kal's face.

"Oi, you look *fluxed," she said, tilting her head. "You sano?"

Kal snapped out of his daze. "Yeah. Completely. I tend to, uh, zone out from time to time."

Gan, flatly: "It literally just happened."

Sarsona smirked. "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Kal. Hope you take care of my little brother here." She cast a sideways glance at Gan, feigning deep concern. "He's fragile."

Gan deadpanned. "By seventeen minutes."

Sarsona ignored him. "What're you two up to?"

"Getting food," Gan said.

"You should join us," Kal blurted before he could stop himself.

Sarsona's grin widened. "Kal, we just met, but you should know—where I go, this one goes."

In a blink, she had Gan in a headlock. He sighed, accepting his fate.

Kal laughed.

And for a moment—for just a moment—he forgot about the ninety percent, the looming trials, the razor-thin line between survival and elimination. Here, in this moment, in this hallway—he was simply alive.

Glossary

Fluxed - caught between two states, like unstable energy