They all stood there looking at him, their full attention fixed on No7 as he began.

  "Okay, here’s the thing: first of all, just to get it out of the way—my plan may take years to accomplish," he started. "Meaning: don’t expect it to be quick." He paused to see if they were following. Since no one objected, he continued, "So, here is the thing. For a long time now, I have been asking myself: why are we here?"

  "Well, we’re here because we got kidnapped," No3 answered, even though the question was rhetorical—a point No7 didn’t mind. He pressed on, "No, you’re not getting it. I am asking: why are we here? Why were you kidnapped while the child next door wasn’t? What makes you so different?" He paused to let the questions sink in. After a minute of silence, Tod finally broke it.

  "Well, what’s the answer?"

  "I think everyone here knows the answer. It’s actually simple—we have what no other children have. We have powers."

  Tod was so caught off guard that he momentarily looked at No7 with fishy eyes, millions of thoughts racing through his mind. What did he mean by that? Did he mean powers related to his vision? Was every child here able to see the future like him? Tod quickly composed himself, donning the same poker face he had before.

  "Hmm, what gave you that idea?" No11 asked in a tone that suggested a challenge. No7 could clearly see that No11 already knew what he was going to say—meaning that his question was just to gauge how far No11 had taken his own theory.

  "Well, for starters, I have powers, and I’m sure that some of you—if not all of you—know you have them," he posed, then started pacing slowly around the room. "And what I mean by 'knowing' that you have them is this: many of the kidnapped children didn’t know they had powers, mostly because they hadn’t awakened them or maybe because their powers are hard to figure out."

  Tod watched the pacing No7; from the fluctuation in his voice, he could tell that No7 wasn’t lying—or he could just be that good at it. But since Tod saw no reason to doubt him, he chose to believe what he was saying. From No7’s words, Tod deduced a few things. First, there were other types of powers aside from the visions he himself possessed. Second, No7 had already awakened his power before the kidnapping, which explained his deeper knowledge of it. Looking around at the other children, Tod noticed that they all had pretty relaxed expressions, which meant that No7 hadn’t said anything new to them. From this, he concluded a third possibility: he might be the only person who awakened his powers after being kidnapped.

  This, however, introduced new problems. If all the kids here had powers, why hadn’t he seen any during the two weeks he’d been here?

  "I don’t necessarily believe it requires a demonstration," No7 said—obviously referring to showing his powers. Tod remembered that No7 had refused to say how he had managed to get here, and now he wondered if that was because of his powers. In other words, No7 didn’t want them to know exactly what powers he had, which was understandable since that was his only trump card in this place.

  "There is no reason to waste time on that, I suppose," Tod said, with the others agreeing.

  "Since we’re on the same page, let me ask you this: why do you think they brought us here?" No7 asked.

  "Well, it’s pretty obvious—they want to turn us into soldiers," No11 answered.

  "Yes, that’s true, but what I’m asking is: why not experiment on us? Why go out of your way to kidnap over 2,000 kids—making you a target for the whole world, probably—just to train them?"

  "What they’re doing will cost them much more, and you can’t even claim that some of us are being experimented on, because every kid who doesn’t follow orders is directly killed rather than brought into a lab for research."

  "It’s because they already have the data," No3 said as the realization hit him.

  "YES!" No7 exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. "They already have data on us. They know everything there is to know about us. Wherever we go, they can track us down—they probably know my body better than I do."

  "So how do we escape that? How do you escape someone who literally knows everything there is to know about you?"

  "How?"

  "You study them, of course. You try to know everything there is to know about them—you search for any weakness, any loophole. And that’s my plan. This is a war for information. The only reason we may think it’s impossible to get out is that we have no information. We are surrounded by a vast unknown. It’s like searching for a needle in a field of grass while blindfolded."

  Tod could see where No7 was coming from. If they could somehow figure out where they were and obtain a map of the facility, their chances of escape would increase. The only problem was that they could still be tracked; however, if they understood how tracking was done, they might find a way to hide.

  In short, all they needed was to gather enough information.

  Huh... The only remaining question was: how exactly do we do that? He might be able to map out the facility where they were held captive, but learning how they were tracking them would involve searching for classified files—which they neither knew the locations of nor could access safely, as those areas would be heavily guarded.

  "And how do you suppose we go about collecting information, might I ask?" Tod said.

  "Well, each and every one of us will start collecting information on our own, and we can arrange meetings like this to share it so that when the time comes, we will have devised a way to escape," No7 said, finally stopping his pacing.

  "Are we all in agreement then?" No7 finally asked.

  "That’s fine by me," No3 said.

  The others agreed as well, and they quickly set a meeting schedule to share their findings. After a brief argument, they settled on meeting on Mondays during lunchtime, with one meeting every two weeks to avoid drawing suspicion.

  Because their plan—if discovered—would likely mean their deaths, they agreed not to discuss it outside the designated meeting area.

  As the time for the end of prayers drew near, they ended their conversation and left the secret room one by one.

  ...

  The Tower: 10th Floor, The Master’s Office

  The master sat in his office, watching camera footage on an iPad. His smile, more demonic than human, hinted at the cruelty behind his actions. This was the same man who had delivered the speech in the conference hall when Tod was first brought in. Back then, he had thought the trainees were all disappointments, but now he saw that his judgment had been mistaken.

  On the screen were four separate videos from different areas of the facility—four groups of promising talents, young rebels. “Master, if you so wish, we can arrange for their execution,” said a man standing before the master’s desk; he was the master’s assistant.

  Looking up, the master’s smile instantly turned into a frown. He detested stupidity—especially when it came from his own men. “Zayne,” the master said as he set his iPad aside.

  “Yes, master.”

  “Let me ask you a question,” he continued, rising from his desk. Slowly, he made his way to the large glass window that offered a view of the entire camp. From up here, one could see all its areas: the shooting grounds, the track fields, the training fields, and more—both those currently open to the trainees and those that were not. Beyond it all lay the endless expanse of ‘The Sand,’ sometimes called the Empty Quarter.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Why do you think we have brought these children here?” the master asked, still gazing out at the camp.

  “It’s preparation for the war to come, sir,” Zayne replied.

  “Then what do you think we should be training them for?”

  “I don’t get your question, sir.”

  “Okay, let me put it this way: don’t you think they should be trained for what they are meant to do?”

  “Yes, sir, and I do believe that’s what we are currently doing.”

  “You might say that, but if you really want to create a soldier, you must first give them purpose.” Turning to face Zayne, the master continued, “After all, he who has a ‘why’ to live can bear almost any ‘how.’” Zayne fell silent; honestly, sometimes he couldn’t quite grasp what the master meant.

  “You seem confused,” the master observed, a smile returning to his face. “Let me make it simpler for you: what we are doing is creating puppets rather than soldiers—puppets only meant to live as they are told.”

  “But sir, we want to make a difference, don’t we?”

  “Yes, I believe that is our true purpose, sir.”

  “Well then, let me tell you this: no man has ever made a difference by being a puppet.” The master’s smile grew even wider. “These trainees, by disregarding the possibility of death, choose to rise to the occasion and reclaim what was stolen from them.”

  “But sir, this might lead to insubordination in the long run.”

  “You have a point there, my dear Zayne, but that’s the funny thing about trying to escape—you never really can. Maybe temporarily, but not completely.”

  The master returned to his desk and handed Zayne the iPad. “Monitor them for me. You are allowed to exercise your power over them in any way you like, but do not disturb them during their sessions.”

  “Let’s see how far they go,” Zayne muttered as he left the master’s office and returned to his own adjacent office. He still couldn’t fully figure out the master’s plan. He understood why the trainees were released, but he worried it might lead to chaos. After all, an escape attempt could spark a riot among the trainees. Even if the situation were contained, the cost—in terms of money and a promising batch of trainees—would be high.

  Once at his desk, Zayne pulled out the files on every trainee featured in the footage. He made a short list of their names and estimated powers. In total, there were 16 trainees:

  The 1st group: 1 boy and 2 girls.

  The 2nd group: 4 boys.

  The 3rd group: 5 girls.

  The 4th group: 3 boys and 1 girl.

  That made 8 boys and 8 girls altogether. Judging by their estimated powers, he could see why they thought they had a chance at escaping. “One of them can even see the future—although, given his low level, I doubt it’s much help,” he noted.

  Zayne placed the report aside, preparing to send it to his trusted guards so they could keep a close eye on the misfits. Looking at the files, he felt satisfied with his work. All that was left was monitoring the trainees and ensuring they didn’t cause trouble. After all, they had all worked so hard, and their progress wasn’t about to be undermined by a few unthankful brats.

  ...

  od sat in class, not really following the lesson—even though it was one he actually liked very much—physics. Right now, though, he couldn’t concentrate; many thoughts were swirling through his mind since the first meeting.

  He had been so occupied lately that he felt immensely tired. During lunch breaks, when they were given an hour to move around, he would take the chance to map out the campus, committing every corner to memory. He also spent much more time up on the tower’s 7th floor just to observe the areas that weren’t yet available to them. His primary goal was to find “secret rooms” — as they had come to call them — hidden spaces around the campus that Tod believed were meant for emergency situations. In case the facility was ever discovered, the top guys would have a way to hide. These secret rooms were so well concealed that they were almost impossible to find. In fact, the one secret room Tod had discovered was by pure luck.

  He made it a point to memorize every corner of the area he was allowed to access. During one of those strolls, he had come across a crooked vase; when he attempted to readjust it, the vase revealed a trap door hidden behind it. Now, he was tasked with actually finding more of these rooms. Although his search hadn’t been very fruitful, he had found one hidden right in the middle of the field. It was so well hidden that one wouldn’t know of its existence unless they were specifically looking for it. After trying to open it and failing—while attracting some guards’ attention—he decided to inspect it later. As expected, even after a prolonged search, he didn’t manage to find any others, so he resolved to first explore the one beneath the field before moving on.

  During the same period he was searching for secret rooms, Tod began researching powers—not just his own but those of the other trainees as well. Through this research, he discovered why he hadn’t seen anyone use their powers. As No7 had mentioned, many of the kidnapped children didn’t seem to know they possessed any, and the few who had awakened theirs were careful not to draw unnecessary attention. In a situation where the captors already had means of detecting powers, hiding them would be pointless.

  Since no volunteer subjects were available for his experiments, Tod decided to experiment on himself. On one hand, this was beneficial because it eliminated biased data; on the other, it prevented him from carrying out more complex, potentially dangerous tests that could incapacitate him. Beggars can’t be choosers, as the saying goes.

  Tod first set out to understand precisely how his powers worked. From prior knowledge, he knew he could glimpse one of the many variations of the future. Through repeated trial and error—a method as ancient as science itself—he had learned that some futures he predicted wouldn’t come to pass, mainly because any action taken after seeing the future could potentially alter it. At best, he could see about 20 seconds into the future.

  What Tod needed now was a way to strengthen his ability. Currently, he could only see one possible future; he longed to view multiple futures simultaneously. He eliminated one possible method—brute force—as he had already tried to see multiple futures at once, only to suffer a nosebleed and faint. His next idea was even more radical: to maintain the ability indefinitely, almost like entering a trance. By doing so, he could assess the impact of every change he made on the future. However, he quickly realized that his brain would be overloaded, making it impossible to move even a finger. Even his attempts to remain in this trance for more than 10 seconds proved to be a tiresome, frustrating ordeal.

  Nevertheless, Tod persisted, trying and failing repeatedly until he hoped to eventually succeed. He only wished that he could master his power soon; the repeated use of his ability combined with these trance states was taking a heavy toll on him. He had gone from being a strong, young boy to resembling a haggard bag of bones. Were all powers this physically and mentally demanding?

  “Man, you look like you haven’t slept in ages,” No3 once commented during lunch. “Yeah, what have you been doing to look like that?” No11 asked with food still in his mouth. “Swallow first,” No7 hissed at him. “For God’s sake, do you have no manners? … Anyway, 666, are you okay?”

  Slumping down at the table, Tod replied, “Well, to be truthful, I’ve seen better days.” “Obviously, you seem to have aged overnight,” one of them remarked. “What can I say? Time hasn’t been kind to me,” Tod replied, and he meant it quite literally. “Ha-ha, you can say that again,” No3 laughed. “Anyway, jokes aside, let me ask you a question,” Tod said. “What’s wrong?” “Is there a way to move without being consciously aware?” Tod asked, looking around at the others. After hearing this, No7 slowly shook his head. “Sorry, can’t help you there,” No7 replied. Shifting his gaze to the others, Tod noted that No3 shared No7’s uncertainty, but No11 had a knowing smile—which he quickly concealed, resuming his usual demeanor that didn’t escape Tod’s notice. “Well, you should look into something called muscle memory. I don’t know much about it myself, but you can ask around,” No11 offered. Tod considered this for a moment and finally thanked him. The conversation soon drifted to other topics, but Tod had gotten what he needed—and even a little bonus insight.

  ...

  The Tower: 2nd Floor, Medical Facility

  Tod knocked on the door and entered, immediately seating himself on one of the two chairs available—one for him and one for Dr. Al-Salil, the assigned doctor. It was time for his daily checkup; every trainee had one, and each doctor handled up to twenty checkups, which often made the wait unbearable for those unfortunate enough to be assigned to a particularly rigorous doctor. Unfortunately, Tod was one of them.

  “Good evening, doctor,” Tod began.

  “Good evening to you too, No666,” Dr. Al-Salil replied as he rose from his desk. He proceeded to run Tod through the standard exams—checking his heart rate, looking for infections, diseases, and the like.

  After reviewing the final report, Dr. Al-Salil frowned.

  “Is something the matter, doctor?” Tod asked, noticing the change in expression.

  “Well, yes—something is the matter. What in Allah’s name have you been doing?” Dr. Al-Salil’s voice started rising.

  “Whatever do you mean by that?” Tod replied, trying to dodge the inevitable scolding.

  “Do you take me for a fool?” Dr. Al-Salil challenged, his tone edged with disbelief.

  “Of course not,” Tod managed to say.

  “Then tell me why these reports say you’re two days away from death. You seemed completely fine just the other day,” the doctor continued, still incredulous. Normally proud of his diagnostic skills, Dr. Al-Salil now began to doubt his own assessment.

  “As you probably already know, doctor, I have awakened my power,” Tod finally confessed.

  “Yes, that much I know; God knows I wouldn’t be a doctor if I didn’t,” Dr. Al-Salil said.

  “Well, you see, the reason I am like this is because I used it,” Tod explained quietly.

  “But that shouldn’t have put you in such a state. Using your power shouldn’t be harmful to your body unless—” the doctor began, then paused.

  “Unless you overload your brain, apparently,” Tod finished for him.

  “And what in hell possessed you to do that?” Dr. Al-Salil demanded, clearly furious.

  “Well, I was experimenting,” Tod murmured, his voice so low that even he had difficulty hearing himself.

  Dr. Al-Salil continued to scold him while administering some medicine. He then prohibited Tod from using his power until he recovered and dismissed him from the office. Before Tod could leave, he inquired about muscle memory—and the doctor, satisfied with his answer, explained further.

  As Tod exited, Dr. Al-Salil sighed. “Kids these days are so intelligent—too intelligent for their own good.”