The S.E.C.R.E.T. Act

The fluorescent hum of the FBI field office did little to cut through the quiet tension that permeated Agent Smith's cubicle. His expression was one of almost preternatural serenity as he slowly sipped from his thermos.

"Sir," Chen began, stepping up with a tablet in hand. "The new bill, the Supernatural Education, Cultivation, Recruitment and Executive Training Act, has passed with a two-thirds majority in both houses, and it's been signed into law. Various federal agencies, in cooperation with state agencies, are now expected to implement the screening across high-school individuals from fourteen to eighteen years of age, starting next month."

Smith took another slow sip of his tea, his gaze distant. "I guess we're doing psychic now," he murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him.

"Sir?" Chen prompted, unsure if he'd heard correctly.

Smith shook his head, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. "It's nothing, Chen. So... what exactly is our role in all of this, and how do we proceed?"

"Huh? You're asking me, sir?" Chen cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. "Well, according to the new directives, our primary role is to maintain security around the psychic testing centers and, more importantly, protect the psychic testing devices from probable spies from foreign countries as mass testing begins across the United States. And then, once individuals have been identified as having psychic potential, we're to screen them, build comprehensive profiles, and later document their character and loyalty for the Paranormal Department. Standard background checks, psychological evaluations, the whole nine yards, but with a new, unusual twist."

"Good," Smith said, his gaze returning to his thermos. "Well, let's do our thing."

Chen frowned, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Are you alright, sir? You seem... different from usual."

Smith chuckled, shaking his thermos cup with a soft sloshing sound. "Chen, they enchanted this cup, believe it or not, to be able to hold a lake worth of liquid. I had to learn what a 'Hell Gate' is today, in detail. I'm just planning for my last vacation, before I truly died of stress, you understand?"

Just then, Agent Wallace burst into the cubicle, a wide grin plastered across his face, holding a sleek, futuristic-looking pistol. "Stress aside, boss, at least the Paranormal Department is nice enough to share some of their toys with us! Check out this beauty!" He brandished the weapon. "It can fire infinite energy bullets that vaporize small objects instantly! They called it a 'Vaporizer Sidearm.'"

Smith raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Doesn't those things tend to overheat and melt if used too much, Wallace? Vaporizing your own hand seems counterproductive."

Wallace struck a pose with the gun, admiring its sleek lines. "Ah, well, all good things come with a downside, right? But it looks so cool, don't you think?"

"Chen," Smith said, ignoring Wallace and pushing himself up from his chair. "I'm recommending you as the next director when I retire."

"Hey!" Wallace protested, lowering the gun.

"I... I appreciate that, sir," Chen stammered, surprised. "But I'm still a newbie compared to you."

Smith stretched, a weary creak in his joints. "Stop being so modest, Chen. Well, gentlemen, we better get to work. The world isn't going to save itself, apparently."

_______________________________________________________________

Inside the sprawling, manicured campus of Westwood Crest High School, nestled in the affluent suburban hills of Greenville, California, the atmosphere in the bustling quad was a strange mix of adolescent apathy and crackling excitement. Designer backpacks were slung over shoulders, and the latest smartphones glowed in every hand.

"Seriously, a lot of people are transferring in lately," a male student with perfectly coiffed hair remarked, scrolling through his phone. "Our school populations jumped like ten percent this week."

A female student, casually leaning against a sun-dappled locker bank, tossed her long, straightened hair. "Duh, it's the S.E.C.R.E.T. Act, remember? The Democrats added the condition that only public high schools are to receive psychic testing. So, all the private school kids and homeschooled students are kinda screwed if they wanna get awakened. They're all rushing to transfer in before it's too late."

"Yeah, so are all you guys going to get tested?" another male student chimed in, adjusting his baseball cap. "I mean, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to actually get superpowers, right?" His eyes gleamed with a childish wonder.

"Totally," a fourth student, a female with an impossibly bright smile, confirmed. "I completed that thirty-page paperwork packet. Got my qualifications verified last night, if I do possess the potential, I can get awakened."

A male student with a slightly more serious demeanor piped up, "Same here, but it kinda sucks that if you do awaken psychic power, it's mandatory to join the Paranormal Department. Like, what if you just want to use it to win the lottery, not fight monsters?"

"Who cares about that, dude?" the first male student scoffed, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand. "We get psychic powers! That is, if we even manage to awaken it in the first place. Think of the TikToks!"

"I don't know, I'm kinda scared, honestly. Those agents were dealing with real-life monsters, like... the ones from New York, or that thing in Japan. Stuff we didn't even know existed." the other female student voice dropped to a whisper. "Did you see the footage from Nasu? That giant fox..."

"Well, someone's gotta defend this shithole of a country," the cap-wearing male student declared, puffing out his chest with a sudden burst of performative patriotism. "And I'm up for it, if I awaken anyway. Imagine being a real superhero!"

"What kind of power do you guys think you're gonna awaken?" He asked.

"Oh, definitely telekinesis myself," the first female student sighed dreamily, stretching her arms. "It's perfect for my lazy ass."

Just then, a crackle filled the air as the school's PA system came to life, an amplified, slightly distorted voice echoing across the quad. "Attention all students, attention all students. Please make your way to the auditorium for the mandatory S.E.C.R.E.T. Act screening. Repeat, all students to the auditorium. This is not a drill."

A wave of nervous excitement rippled through the assembled teenagers. They began to excitedly move out, forming a stream flowing towards the auditorium.

The sheer scale of the sprawling auditorium was a testament to the public school's substantial funding. Yet, despite its considerable size, the auditorium was packed to capacity, overflowing with students. The recent influx of transfer students meant that some, unlucky enough to arrive late, had to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the packed hallways, craning their necks to catch glimpses of the stage through the open doors.

On the brightly lit stage, flanked by two stern-faced individuals in dark suits, stood the school's Principal, a man whose usually composed demeanor seemed a shade more strained than usual. He adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat before speaking into the microphone, his voice echoing through the vast hall.

"Good afternoon, students, faculty, and esteemed guests," the Principal began, his voice resonating with practiced gravitas. "Today marks a truly unprecedented moment in our nation's history, and indeed, in your lives. We stand at the precipice of a new era, one that challenges our understanding of the world, and indeed, of ourselves."

"Many of you are feeling a mix of emotions right now – excitement, perhaps a little apprehension, even uncertainty. And that is perfectly natural. What we embark on today is a journey into the unknown. But remember this, Westwood Crest students: throughout our time here, we have always emphasized the importance of resilience, of embracing change, and of striving for excellence. Regardless of the outcomes of today's events, you must carry these values forward. Your future, and the future of our nation, will be shaped by your courage, your adaptability, and your unwavering commitment to doing what is right."

"Each of you holds immense potential, unique talents waiting to be discovered. Whether that potential manifests in academic brilliance, athletic prowess, artistic expression, or indeed, in ways we are only just beginning to comprehend, your journey continues. Embrace it. Learn from it. Grow from it."

He then gestured to the side of the stage. "And now, it is with immense honor and a deep sense of responsibility that I welcome the personnel from the Paranormal Department of the United States."

As if on cue, the two stern-faced individuals in dark suits, now clearly identified as agents, began to wheel a large, covered object onto the stage on a cart. They pulled back a dark cloth to reveal something that silenced the entire auditorium. It was a pristine, angelic statue of a woman, sculpted with breathtaking detail. Her form was gracefully serene, draped in flowing, saintly robes, her hands clasped in an attitude of gentle prayer, and faint, feather-like wings unfurled subtly from her back. It was an object of profound, almost unsettling beauty.

One of the agents stepped forward. Without touching the statue, he extended a hand. An unseen force rippled around the angelic figure. The massive statue lifted itself from the cart, floating a few feet in the air. The agent then guided it and lightly placed it onto the middle of the auditorium ascended stage, settling it with a soft thud that was barely audible over the collective, astonished gasp of the students.

"In an orderly fashion," the agent instructed, his gaze sweeping over the eager faces, "please ascend the stage and stand before the statue."

A male student in the very first row, his posture stiff with a mix of excitement and nerves, was the first to comply. He climbed the short set of stairs, walked to the designated spot, and stood rigidly in front of the serene, angelic figure. Seconds ticked by, but nothing happened.

"Fail," the agent announced, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. "Next."

Visibly deflated, the first student descended a separate set of stairs at the other side of the stage, his shoulders slumped. Another student immediately ascended, taking his place. "Fail. Next." The process continued, a methodical parade of hope and disappointment. One after another, students stood, stared, and then dejectedly walked away.

Then, a flicker. A soft glow emanated from the statue as a student stood before it.

"Pass," the agent intoned, a hint of something like satisfaction in his voice. "E Rank. Please proceed to the designated area at the back."

The successful student, beaming, hurried off. More failures followed, but among them some pass, then another. "Pass, C Rank." "Pass, D Rank." Each success was met with a ripple of hushed excitement, quickly subdued by the agent's stern presence.

Next to ascend was a female student with long, nearly iridescent white hair flowing behind her like a silken cascade. Though not quite albinism, it was the result of a rare genetic trait that gave her an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. As she approached the statue, it didn't merely glow—it ignited with a blinding radiance, forcing many in the audience to shield their eyes.

"Pass!" the agent's voice cut through the brilliance, charged with a rare note of awe. "S Rank!"

"Wait, isn't that Eleanor Prescott?" a student whispered loudly from the crowd, elbowing his friend. "From the Ascendant Industries? Her family practically runs a sixth of the global tech industry and has major investments in national defense! They're old money, like, American founding families old, but they diversified into everything."

"Yeah, that's her!" another added, a mix of awe and envy in her voice. "An S Rank, too? She was already extra untouchable with her family's wealth, but now she's going to be literally untouchable! I don't even know what 'S Rank' would entail, but it sounds serious."

The conversation died down as the agent's sharp gaze swept over the crowd, a terse "Next" breaking the spell. A gloomy-looking male student with perpetually unkempt black hair ascended the stairs. He seemed to shrink under the weight of a thousand curious eyes as he stood before the statue. After a prolonged moment, the statue pulsed with a faint, almost hesitant glow.

"Hm," the agent mused. "Pass. F Rank."

A muffled, hushed conversation erupted through the auditorium, laced with disbelief. "Isn't he Ethan Miller?" someone whispered, "That loser who always hangs around Eleanor Prescott? He passed?"

"I guess he just leached off her extraordinariness," another snickered, low enough to avoid the agents' ears, but still audible to Ethan, who flinched almost imperceptibly, his expression darkening further as he trudged to the back.

Not long after, another murmur swept the crowd. "Pass. A Rank." A student with a confident swagger and bright smile strode to the back. "Isn't he Grant Lockwood?" someone else whispered. "He's from the Lockwoods. Their families, the Lockwoods and the Prescotts, are super connected. I even heard rumors their grandparents practically set them up to be fiancés. He's always trying to hit on Eleanor, and now he's an A rank? Figures."

Afterward, no new commotion erupted. The passes became rarer, the ranks predominantly lower. A single notable B Rank appeared, while the majority of successful awakenings resulted in D to E Ranks, with only a scattered few C Ranks amidst the growing number of failures. The extraordinary was quickly becoming ordinary, at least in its statistical distribution.

In the end, out of nearly two thousand students, less than one percent passed.