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Chapter Fourteen: Echoes in Silence

They haul me back to the cell, but my body already feels different. For three days now, I have hidden behind blank eyes. Now I curl up on the cot and explore. The cell is silent and safe. I close my eyes and listen to the quiet around me. The hum of the heater. The faint hiss of the ventilation. Then I reach into the silence.

Across the corridor, I feel a presence. It is old and tired. A man — or a woman? — whispering something inaudible in their sleep. I rest my hand on the wall, trying to find them in the dark. I sense sadness, warm and heavy. Next cell over: anger coiled tight, a mind like a trapped beast. Each cell around me holds a hidden life, a half-heard story. I press my forehead against the cool metal and learn them all — feeling them like shadows in the next room.

I practice telekinesis next. A pebble from the floor rises and hovers in front of me. Carefully, I send it spinning in place. It wobbles, but I steady it. Slowly, I lower it back down. My hands fly up reflexively, but I keep them still — no one is watching. A strand of thread floats toward my palm, then curls back around my wrist. All of this is silent, imperceptible to the guards. Each act is a whisper on the edge of my senses.

Books and scraps of paper swirl around me like leaves in a breeze. A few water droplets on the table lift and dance. The air tastes electric. I shape quiet winds in the corners of the cell, moving the sunlight itself. I hold gravity in my palm, momentum beneath my feet. If only I could send this peace outside these bars.

Night after night, I test my limits. The spoon lifts again, exactly as it did that first morning. Then a metal tumbler, then the table itself.

Each day, my abilities settle into me. These powers are mine, to command or to hide. In this solitude I become more than a prisoner — I become something else, something stronger. I tell myself the isolation is my refuge, a quiet laboratory. One day soon, I will unleash everything I have learned.

When I head out to the outer dome it is morning as I had to one of the dome rooms that we can use. The door slides open. Vale, Kei, and Mira step inside and freeze when they see me. They grin and rush in. "Jane!" Vale exclaims, wrapping me in a hug. My chest aches. They have no clue. None of them suspect a thing. I smile and let them hold me. Inside, I begin to listen.

Their minds are soft echoes. Vale's gentle worry, Kei's cautious relief, Mira's warm gratitude — all swirl like a breeze in my head. They speak quietly: "We were so worried." I nod, my voice sure. Underneath, I reach out. It's just a touch, a gentle probing. No one would notice. I assure myself they're not thinking anything about me. They aren't. They know nothing.

Out in the dome, they walk me to the food hall. A breeze of voices washes over me. I catch fragments: Oh no, not again… Claire is dead by tomorrow if we fail… Images flicker of transfer protocols. They think of normal fears and gossip. I gently quiet them. When Kei's eyes narrow, a panicky question forming, I press softly at the edge of his mind: calm. When Mira's chest tightens, I cradle the panic in a thought: steady. Vale's dread aches with a fractured hope I push away like a knot in the dark. They smile at me, comforted, and I smile back.

We eat under the artificial sky. My hands pick at the food; I barely taste it. The crowd's thoughts filter in: routine anxieties of others unaware of anything deeper. I practice weaving through them. Nearby, two men coordinate a prank in whispers: they plan to leave clues so the guards won't scan them. I send a little nudge of confusion their way. If it keeps a friend from being taken, it's worth it.

During the midday break, I wander to the dome's edge by the fake windows. Beyond the painted sky, my mind stretches. There — a vast weight presses at the edge of my senses. Guard minds, countless and distant: they stand like mountains far out at sea. Each mind is shuttered tight, but I sense their presence. The facility feels like a great island ringed by water. In my mind's eye I map its shape: walls reaching out to the ocean's cold edge.

I kneel and rest my hand on the cold metal floor. I close my eyes and reach out, tasting the edges of the dome. Salt tang of the sea bristles the boundary. Faint minds of distant scanners patrol in rhythm — heavy, emotionless. On the far side of the island, massive turbines and gun-metal arms glint menacingly. I catch a flicker of a guard thought, "What was that?" but I abandon the stretch. The outer darkness is too thick. This ground suddenly feels alien now, held at arm's length.

Vale touches my arm softly. "Everything all right, Jane?" he asks. I blink and focus. I nod, listening for his heartbeat. Everything is fine, I lie. It's more than fine: I have knowledge they cannot imagine. We walk back through halls lined with blind eyes. Beyond the dome's lights, I sense it: towers glinting in sunlight, a forest of antennae and robotic arms crowding the far horizon of the island. The ocean beyond glints with distance, but behind me I feel the terrible weight of many eyes on the shore.

I stand in the crowds with my friends, but now I am truly alone. And I have never been more aware.