Prodigy

broadcasting that, when all the other headlines from the same time have long since made way for more recent news?
Maybe they’re trying to convince people that it’s true.
    Another one flashes by.
    ELECTOR TO ANNOUNCE FIRST LAW OF NEW YEAR TODAY AT DENVER CAPITOL TOWER
    I want to pause and read this headline again—but the car speeds past and then the ride’s over. My car door opens. Soldiers grab my arms and pull me out. I’m instantly deafened by shouts from the crowd of onlookers and dozens of federal press reporters clicking their little square camera screens at me. When I take in the people surrounding us, I notice that in addition to those who are here just to see me, there are others. A
lot
of others. They’re protesting in the streets, shouting slurs about the Elector, and being dragged off by police. Several wave homemade signs over their heads even as guards take them away.
    June Iparis Is Innocent!
says one.
    Where Is Day?
says another.
    One of the guards nudges me forward. “Nothing for you to see,” he snaps, hurrying me up a long series of steps and into the giant corridor of some government building. Behind us, the noise from outside fades away into the echoes of our footsteps. Ninety-two seconds later, we stop before a set of wide glass doors. Then someone scans a thin card (about three by five inches large, black, with a reflective sheen and a gold Republic seal logo in one corner) across the entry screen, and we step in.
    The lie detection room is cylindrical, with a low domed roof and twelve silver columns lining the rounded wall. Guards strap me standing into a machine that encircles my arms and wrists with metal bands, and press cold metal nodes (fourteen of them) onto my neck and cheeks and forehead, my palms and ankles and feet. There are so many soldiers in here—twenty in total. Six of them are the examination team, with white armbands and transparent green shades. The doors are made of flawlessly clear glass (it’s imprinted with a faint symbol of a circle cut in half, which means it’s one-way bulletproof glass, so if I somehow broke free, soldiers outside the room could shoot me through the glass but I wouldn’t be able to shoot back at them or break out). Outside the room, I see Anden standing with two Senators and twenty-four more guards. He looks unhappy, and is deep in conversation with the Senators, who try to cloak their displeasure with fake, obedient smiles.
    “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