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Triptych Chapter 2

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 Chapter 2   Candor Sometimes when she closes her eyes, she can see the world. See its simplicity in shapes and colors instead of reading hard-coded facts about it. It only works when she is alone in the dark, and she closes her eyes tight until the 1’s and 0s that make up her monochrome world disappear into a cacophony of colors. Reds, blues, and greens appear into the darkness behind her eyelids, and for a moment, the world is quiet, her mind relaxed. “Are you quite alright Lana?” Her father asks from his seat beside her. She opens her eyes and it all comes rushing back. She turns to look at her father, observing his eyes – generation two business class lens, optimal for language translation – trained on her. They’re almost unnoticeable compared to her unnatural silver eyes, and she wonders how he sees her. Would he be able to untangle the mess of aimless thoughts and pointless information inside her head, and translate it into something she can understand? Or would he...
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Triptych Chapter 3

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 Chapter 3 Candor “How are we doing today Miss Candor?” Lana looks up from her feet at Dr. Stein, takes in his haywire hair and friendly smile, and feels herself smile back on reflex. She’s always liked Dr. Stein better, even though he and Dr. Yates clash regularly with the psychological aspects of her enhancements. “I’m trying to keep my distance.” She answers truthfully. “Nervousness brings out the over-analysis, and analysis doesn’t always lead to positive outcomes. Negative outcomes may lead me to – not be in optimal condition for this.” Dr. Stein smiles in understanding. He doesn’t reprimand her for shying away from the problem, and doesn’t suggest a checkup of her inhibitor nodes. As always, he allows her to breathe. “So what are you thinking about?” he asks curiously. Lana scans the room, and follows everyone’s focus attuned to their specific tasks before she whispers, “I’ve been wondering if I can transmute my fingers into multi-colored brushes and paint a full po...
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Triptych Chapter 4

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Chapter 4   Mac Katherine McKenzie took the mandatory aptitude test when she was ten. After years of begging her mother, who for some reason, was convinced she wouldn’t score high enough to land in a reputable class. She wasn’t smart enough for the medical or engineering fields, and anything below a technician is just shameful. Living her life without undergoing some major enhancement means acknowledging you serve no meaningful purpose in the perfect machine of society. “Thank god you’re pretty.” Her mother used to tell her, four words that always followed some sort of complaint about her cognitive development skills. Little Katherine was absolute pants at math, a hazard with sharp objects and too easily distracted by the bright colors of the world to memorize something in minimal time. Her mother thought she was too hopeless to be controlled by the strongest inhibitor, and her less-than-stellar test score sealed her fate. As the boys from her apartment complex gradually got fi...
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