Excerpt: The Persephone Project

“I give her less than a minute until she smurfs.”

The other children erupted in derisive laughter, and Max ducked her head in embarrassment. Taunting was just a necessary part of the initiation ritual, and she knew that. But knowing it didn’t help to take the sting out of the name-calling and jeering.

“A minute?” Ellie said, loud enough to be heard over the laughter. “I’d bet ten chits that Wheezer Girl won’t make it thirty seconds.”

Another burst of laughter filled the abandoned storage container, ringing overloud in Max’s ears. She wanted to offer up a witty retort, but she couldn’t think of anything clever to say. Besides, she knew that talking back to Ellie, the group leader, would only prolong the torture. She gritted her teeth and shifted her weight from one knee to another, trying to relieve the pressure from the corrugated ceramometallic floor. The rubber gasket of her breathing mask felt slimy against her sweaty cheek. She just wanted to get this part of things over with.

“What do you say, Maxine? “ Ellie asked. “Ready to prove me right? Any last words before you lose consciousness?”

Plenty, Max thought. But she bit her tongue, and instead just glared at Ellie standing above her. In return, Ellie momentarily lifted her own mask and smiled. The grin of a predator, confident and hungry.

Ellie put her mask back on and said, “Let’s put her out of her misery, then.” She held up one hand and the chamber grew quiet. Even the wind, which had been whistling relentlessly against the container walls, seemed to draw still for a moment.

“Good luck, darling,” Ellie said, her words dripping with insincerity. Then her hand fell with a sharp chopping motion.

Max pulled off her mask and let it drop to her side. The cool air of the container felt refreshing against her face and she almost smiled. She thought about all of the other children staring at her – Ellie hovering above her, waiting to gloat – and laughter almost burst from her throat. Instead, she forced herself to adopt a meditative stance, with her head down and her gaze glued to the floor in front of her. Her father wouldn’t want her to give in to her baser instincts. He’d coach her to avoid stooping to the level of her torturers.

“Thirty seconds,” someone called out.

Max couldn’t resist. She looked up at Ellie, held up her hands and waggled ten fingers at her. Then she winked.

“What?” Ellie asked, looking momentarily confused.

“You owe her ten chits, Ellie,” another audience member said. A low murmur rolled through the crowd, and Max could see Ellie blushing underneath her mask. Max gave her a tight smile and then, before Ellie could respond, she dropped her gaze back to the floor and returned to her meditation.

“One minute,” the timekeeper intoned. The crowd shuffled a bit on their feet, not sure how to react. The girl kneeling in front of them was frail and sickly, and struggled to breathe in even the best conditions. How was she managing to hold out so long in the open atmosphere?

“A minute thirty.” This statement was answered by a few half-hearted cheers and a single clap. Max permitted herself awry smirk. Maybe she had a few fans in the audience after all. If so, she promised they’d be rewarded with a real treat in just a few more seconds.

As if in response to Max’s silent oath, someone muttered, “She’s gonna beat Ellie’s time.” Those words polarized the audience, as some people chose to cheer Max’s efforts more vocally. In response, Ellie’s more loyal followers shouted down the words of encouragement, and began a shouting some truly foul obscenities at Max, trying to disrupt her efforts.

To her credit, Max ignored her hecklers. If anything, she drew strength from their frustration. In almost no time at all, she heard the words “two minutes.” The crowd grew even more frenzied then, and Max’s supporters gained the upper hand, pushing to the front of the crowd and shouting down Ellie and her friends. Then, true to the fantasies Max had fostered in the days leading up to her initiation, a chant began.

“Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…Fifteen!”

And just like that, Max crossed the magical threshold. Two minutes and fifteen seconds in the open air of Langford’s Leap, with no mask to aid her breathing. The best time ever achieved during initiation rites, a record held for years, now broken. The crowd went wild. For the first time in her life, Max felt like part of something bigger. She felt like she belonged.

Grinning in triumph, Max began to stand up, but she felt a hand on her shoulder which shoved her roughly to the floor. Ellie stood above her, and underneath her mask her face was twisted in fury. The crowd, which had been celebrating Max’s amazing accomplishment, fell silent again.

“Nice job, mutie,” Ellie sneered. She reached down and snatched Max’s breather mask from her hand. “Guess you don’t need this after all, huh?”

Behind the two girls, the crowd let out a collective gasp. Touching someone else’s breathing mask was taboo. Taking away someone’s mask was tantamount to reaching out and strangling them. Without a mask, even the heartiest Langford colonist would suffocate in just a few minutes. Ellie had overstepped, and any remaining support she had from the other children quickly dissolved.

“Give it back,” someone said. Then, louder, “Give it back!” And again, “Give it back, Ellie!” Fear and anger were evident in the shouts, but no one seemed willing to step forward and intervene. The standoff stretched out across the seconds, with no obvious resolution coming.

Max heaved herself up off of the floor. She’d been without breathing aid for almost three minutes now. But she didn’t panic or lunge for the mask clenched in Ellie’s hand. Instead she drew back a fist and punched Ellie square in the stomach.

Ellie collapsed to the floor in a wheezing heap. After gasping for air for a few seconds, she hissed, “Stinking mutie! Not getting your mask back now!” She looked like she wanted to lunge at Max and choke the life from her, if she could just gain enough breath to stand back up. Before she got the chance, however, the container doors banged open, flooding the space with blinding sunlight and the roar of the wind.

“What’s happening in here?” a loud voice boomed. Children scattered like dust in a maelstrom. Through the glare, Max watched as the mask in Ellie’s fist was torn from her grasp. Then she felt strong hands force the mask over her face. Those same hands grasped her tightly by the shoulders and demanded, “What is this foolishness?”

“Nothing, Sister Sonya,” Max managed to answer.

Hidden deep within the shadows of her hood, Sister Sonya’s single eye glimmered. The color of the frozen sky, her stare pierced Max like a sliver of ice, demanding a better answer. Max shivered, but held her tongue. The stare stretched out for a long moment before the woman sighed in exasperation. “Nothing, eh? Doubtful, young lady. Very doubtful.”

Sister Sonya’s one-eyed stared seemed to stab something deep within her, almost causing Max to confess. But speaking about the initiation rite would eliminate everything she’d accomplished with her victory. The other children would hate her. She’d be an outcast again. She fought down her fear and held on until the Sister finally blinked, releasing Max from her glare. Max breathed a sigh of relief, and almost immediately began coughing against the inside of her mask.

The old woman released Max from her grip and turned to haul Ellie up from the floor. “And what say you, Elisabeth? Care to explain why you were holding Maxine’s mask while this poor girl risked suffocation?”

“No, Sister Sonya,” Ellie said, still short of breath.

“No?” the woman thundered. “You refuse to answer me?” She gave the girl a vigorous shake.

Ellie blanched, but she shook her head. Then she said, “I’d like to see my father now, Sister.”

“Your father?” The Sister leaned in close to Ellie, her hood enveloping the terrified girl’s face. From beneath the hood’s edge, Max could barely hear whispered words.

“Not this time, my dear. This time you’re mine.”