“Ms. Iparis,” the lead examiner says. Her eyes are a very pale green, her hair blond, her skin porcelain white. She scrutinizes my face calmly before pressing on a small black device she’s holding in her right hand. “My name is Dr. Sadhwani. We’re going to ask you a series of questions. As you are a former Republic agent, I’m sure you understand as well as I do how capable these machines are. We’ll catch the smallest twitch of movement from you. The slightest trembling of your hands. I strongly advise you to tell us the truth.”
Her words are all just pretest hype—she’s trying to convince me of the complete power of this lie detection device. She thinks the more I fear it, the more reaction I’ll show. I meet her eyes. Take slow, normal breaths. Eyes relaxed, mouth straight. “Fine with me,” I reply. “I have nothing to hide.”
The doctor busies herself studying the nodes stuck to my skin, then the projections of my face that are probably being broadcast around the room behind me. Her own eyes are darting around nervously, and tiny beads of sweat are dotting the very top of her forehead. She’s probably never tested such a well-known enemy of the state before, and certainly not in front of someone as important as the Elector.
As expected, Dr. Sadhwani starts with simple, irrelevant questions. “Is your name June Iparis?”
“Yes.”
“When is your birthday?”
“July eleventh.”
“And your age?”
“Fifteen years, five months, and twenty-eight days.” My tone stays flat and emotionless. Each time I answer, I pause for several seconds and let my breathing become shallower, which in turn makes my heart pump faster. If they’re measuring my physical rates, then let them see fluctuations during the control questions. It’ll make it harder to tell when I’m actually lying.
“What grade school did you attend?”
“Harion Gold.”
“And after that?”
“Be specific,” I reply.
Dr. Sadhwani recoils slightly, then recovers. “All right, Ms. Iparis,” she says, this time with irritation in her voice. “What high school did you attend after Harion Gold?”
I face the audience watching me behind the glass. The Senators avoid my stare by pretending fascination with the wires snaking around me, but Anden looks back at me without hesitation. “Harion High.”
“For how long?”
“Two years.”
“And then—”
I let my temper go up, so that they might think I’m having trouble controlling my emotions (and my exam results). “And then I spent three years at Drake University,” I snap. “I got accepted when I was twelve and graduated when I was fifteen, because I was just that good. Does that answer your question?”
She hates me now. “Yes,” she says tightly.
“Good. Then let’s move on.”
The examiner purses her lips and looks back down at her black device so she doesn’t have to meet my eyes. “Have you ever lied before?” she asks.
She’s moving on to more complicated questions. I speed up my breathing again. “Yes.”
“Have you lied to any military or government officials?”
“Yes.”
Right after I answer this question, I see a strange series of sparks at the edges of my vision. I blink twice. They disappear, and the room comes back into focus. I hesitate for a second—but when Dr. Sadhwani notices this and types something on her device, I force myself to turn back into a blank slate.
“Have you ever lied to any of your professors at Drake?”
“No.”
“Have you ever lied to your brother?”
Suddenly the room vanishes. A shimmering image replaces it—a familiar living room bathed in warm afternoon light comes into focus, and a white puppy sleeps next to my feet. A tall, dark-haired teenager sits next to me with his arms crossed. It’s Metias. He frowns and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“Have you ever lied to me, June?”
I blink in shock at the scene. This is all fake, I tell myself. The lie detector is conjuring up illusions that are designed to break me down. I’d heard of devices like this being used near the warfront, where a machine can simulate sequences to play out in your mind by copying the brain’s ability to create vivid dreams. But Metias looks so real, it’s like I could reach out and tuck his dark hair behind his ear, or feel my tiny hand in his large one. I can almost believe that I’m right there in the room with him. I close my eyes, but the image stays embedded in my mind, bright as daylight.
“Yes,” I say. It’s the truth. Metias’s eyes go wide with surprise and sadness, then he vanishes along with Ollie and the rest of the apartment. I’m back in the middle of the gray lie detector room, standing before Dr. Sadhwani as she jots down more notes. She gives me an approving nod for answering correctly. I try to steady my hands as they stay clenched and trembling at my sides.
“Very good,” she murmurs a moment later.
My words sound as cold as ice. “Do you plan on using my brother against me for the rest of these questions?”
She looks away from her notes again. “You saw your brother?” She seems more relaxed now, and the sweat on her forehead has faded away.
So. They can’t control what visions pop up, and they can’t see what I see. But they’re able to trigger something that forces these memories up to the surface. I keep my head high and my eyes on the doctor. “Yes.”
The questions continue. Which grade did you skip during your time at Drake? Sophomore year. How many conduct warnings did you receive when you were at Drake? Eighteen. Prior to your brother’s death, had you ever had negative thoughts about the Republic? No.