Page 136 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

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I force myself to class, to uphold appearances, naturally. It’s in Psychology where we rehearse the same age-old questions and tactics of control. Today Hogan is talking about the subconscious and how we can influence it without the powers of Lucents like me.

“The easiest way to manipulate someone subconsciously is to do so without notice. That’s why the books boast about short sentences and pretty pictures. They’ll read the same thing tens, hundreds of times a day, and the message will begin to embed,” I say, answering Hogan’s repetitive question.

“Actually,” Desdemona says, “contrary to the popular opinion in these books,” I turn to face her seat, where she holds the book like it’s poisonous, “we’re not corenths, and we’re not much dumber than the lot of you either.”

“Oh, come on,” Fleur says.

“No, no.” Hogan lifts a finger. “What better way to learn than from them?”

“Whatever.” Fleur turns away.

Desdemona shifts in her seat. “Yeah,” I say, “come on. I’d love to hear the kind of insight you have.”

She sneers at me. “Well for one, ‘the key to peace is compliance,’ that’s one of your favorite statements, for all those who don’t know,” she looks around the classroom, “is total bullshit. No one reads that and thinks that slaving their lives away is doing them any good. It’s meant to make us feel self-important, but it doesn’t.”

No, compliancy is not peace. It’s torture. “Yet it works,” I find myself saying, despite my own reservations about the septic. “We’ve never had issues getting what we need from you.”

“First of all, Prince, don’t talk to me about what you need until you’re forced to work and starve. Second of all, my only point is that we’re not dim-witted.”

“You’re no?—”

Her tongue travels fast as she says, “Your fancy book says to make us tired and feed us ideas, which obviously means that you rightly know we wouldn’t believe your propaganda if we could have a moment to think.”

I begin again, but she cuts me off.

“You want the people to work more? Give them more. Starvation, dehydration, and a lack of sleep are only going to give you less production. But you’re all so focused on the mental aspects of everything. Physicality is just as important.”

“Wit wins wars,” I say, though it feels more like regurgitating.

“Partially, yeah. You need someone to plan where to aim, but what would you do if your soldiers couldn’t swing?”

Someone whistles behind me, and Fleur’s head whips around.

“She has a point,” the boy says. Andy.

“I do have a point, because I’m not dumb, and you all know where I’m from.” Her eyes shoot daggers at me. “Including you, Aibek. So should I mention that night? With the wine, and the dress, and… what was it? Oh, right!” She smiles and I know it’s mock enjoyment. “You trying to kiss me.” She enunciates each word slowly as she says, “A prince wanting dirty, septic, scum. Now what do your books make of that?”

There are a few murmurs around the room but I would sooner be damned before I allowed her to maintain the higher ground. I’d like to tip over this newfound pedestal she’s sitting on.

“Tell me, does your fire require mental or physical strength?”

“What?” she says.

“He’s asking if it took mental or physical power when you killed Breck,” Eleanora says angrily, and I see that both her and Fleur are throwing their own daggers at Desdemona, via their eyes.

Desdemona’s face goes blank, then it goes angry. “Neither,” she barks, looking around the class with a sneer. “Seeing as it was so damned easy.”

“Okay!” Hogan says, with a clap and a falsely cheery tone. His eyes are pinned on Desdemona. “It seems we’ve gotten far off track.”

“You don’t belong here!” Eleanora shouts. “You’re crass. Uneducated. Violent. Murderous. Scum. You will stain all of Visnatus! Walking around here with some perverted sense of hubris.”

Desdemona watches Eleanora with a blank face, and when everything has finished, she turns to look at Hogan. He stands with his arms crossed and a slight look of disapproval on his face.

“Really?” Desdemona says, sounding resigned. Hogan doesn’t acknowledge her and she says nothing more.

After class, Hogan calls Desdemona to his desk. I wait by the door.

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