Page 29 of The Pansy Paradox
“Let me get you wired up, and then I’ll power on the course.”
I stand, arms outstretched. I’m wearing a vest studded with sensors and recording devices. Agent Darnelle moves around me, so close that the heat of his body touches mine. A hint of that vanilla lingers in the small pockets between us. I didn’t think to ask if this is appropriate. Not that we need a chaperone. Not that I’m the least bit fearful of Agent Darnelle.
In fact, I’m more curious than annoyed. Was it the shift in his demeanor, or possibly mine? True, he still might fail me. I hold no illusions about that. But it feels more like we’re in this together rather than apart.
And besides, if nothing else, job termination is easy on the eyes.
“Now for your umbrella,” he says.
I hand her over, and the polka dots fairly blur with excitement. His own umbrella is slung cross-body, but the strap has come undone. It flutters in the breeze. Very conveniently, the strap on my umbrella loosens as well. They ease toward one another. It’s both surreptitious and blatant. They’re like two pre-teens trying to hold hands while hoping no one will notice.
Agent Darnelle glances down at this interaction and then pushes his umbrella farther behind his back.
My umbrella slumps in his grip, despondent.
“I’m surprised they didn’t issue you a larger umbrella, Agent Little.”
Now my umbrella bristles.
“She might be small, but don’t underestimate her.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckles under his breath. “‘And though she be but little, she is fierce.’”
I stare at him.
“Shakespeare,” he says. Unnecessarily, I might add. He coughs, clears his throat before stating, “Let’s see how fierce you are, Agent Little.”
I’m starting to get annoyed again.
He hands me a pair of goggles. The course is like the best virtual reality game you’ve ever played. I will need to fight off any number of Screamer attacks, anticipate ambushes, discover fissures, and repair them on the fly, all while running around until I drop.
The sensors record all this and any hits from the virtual Screamers. Although, since the stings from those hits are very, very real, it’s more like the worst virtual reality game you’ve ever played.
Agent Darnelle crouches next to the control panel. He’s already laid out the course. An expanse of land near the back of the development is now strung with transponders sitting atop slender poles.
“This should give you plenty of space.” His gaze travels the field. “Do they mow back here?”
“They don’t mow anywhere.”
“Then how?—?”
I give him a look. Just one of the many features of this space. The grass may be more brown than green, but it resembles the sort of golf course turf pictured on the Camelot Lots sign. Maybe the creature that claws its way out (or in) enjoys meticulously mown lawns.
“Anyway, it’s crucial that you complete the course in one go. Don’t remove your goggles. Otherwise, you’ll have to start all over again.”
I nod to show him I understand.
“I’ll be on guard the whole time, so there’s no need to worry.”
What he means is, he’ll watch for any actual Screamers that might decide to show up and ruin my exam, which they might. But I sense they’re off somewhere, pouting.
Just in case, I tip my chin skyward and scan the evening sky. The air feels calm enough, the housing development benign enough that it’s worth placing my trust in him. Since it’s July, the sun won’t set for a few more hours. I can do this, then hustle him out of the space before dark.
“Also.” He shuts his eyes for a moment as if what he’s about to say pains him. “They’ve rigged the course to deliver more stings than actual hits. I’ve adjusted the settings to as low as possible, but just know it’s not a true reflection of your progress or ability.”
“Thank you for leveling the playing field.” I mean it sincerely. It’s not like the Enclave ever would.
His nod is terse. “All set?”
