Lumen

10. Bucket Full of Information

It was fair to say that The Agency building was not how I imagined. Situated in a leafy street of Edinburgh’s New Town, it appeared to comprise of around four or five townhouses which had been joined together to make their Head Quarters. From previous experience I knew that it would have five levels; ground, first and second floors, a basement level and an attic. The street went in a gentle curve, creating the left side of an oval. On the opposite side of the road were more townhouses creating the right side and in the middle was a grassy area with a sprinkling of trees and two benches.

It would have looked beautiful had the sun been shining but winter had been exceptionally miserable and dense, iron rainclouds covered the sky; threatening to pour forth its contents. As a result the whole area looked dull and had taken on dreary overtones.

I drew my jacket closer to me as I made my way up the small path and steps to the door. The door handle was slippery and cold beneath my already frigid fingers and as I opened the door and found myself in a spacious reception area. Everything was immaculate; the white walls, the polished floorboards. To my immediate left was a desk where a young male receptionist was busily typing. The gold Agency logo was on the wall behind the reception, gleaming in the soft light given off by the gilded chandelier. My eyes shifted around the rest of the area; to the right was a doorway leading into the depths of the building and in front of me was a staircase that wound its way both up and down.

“May I help you with something, Miss?” asked the receptionist. He had a kind, soft face which had a smile tugging on his lips.

“I’m here to see Mr Taylor. He’s expecting me at 10,” I told him.

He tapped a few keys on his computer before smiling up at me. It was one of those fake, professional smiles that so many people plaster over their faces. He couldn’t hide the fact he hated his job with his near to pallid complexion –to my eyes at least- and distinct lack of light.

“Mr Taylor will be down shortly. Please, take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the seats on the far side of his desk.

I sat. The seats where a hard, wooden affair: the same dark, polished wood as the floor and the reception desk. There was no clock in the reception area which made me fidget, I don’t like being clueless about the time. It’s disconcerting. While I waited for Samuel to grace me with his presence, I thought about my morning phone call with Pip.

“Helena,” he had whined, “What are you not telling me? I know you and I know when you’re being evasive.”

I had told him I was going shopping with Sarah but he didn’t believe me. I hate lying to my brother but it was necessary when it concerned my ability. He didn’t need to know.

“Pip,” I sighed, trying my best to sound exasperated. “I’m going shopping with one of my friends. What is so hard to believe about that? If you’re lucky, I might even find one of those American sweet shops and send you some candy.”

My faux American accent on ‘candy’ had distracted him so the topic was happily avoided. Mum was adamant that I should have told him but there was no way I wanted to explain it over the phone. Also, there was no guarantee that he would believe me. How could I provide proof? It wasn’t as if I could magic things to life with a wave of my hand or transform myself into any creature on my whim. If I told people they would think I was crazy; I would think I was crazy if I was people. They would say I was delusional, possibly that I was mentally unstable.

Despite my questions that morning, Mum was impossibly vague about how she had come to believe the truth of this ability when she did not have it herself. It was something I would have to work on, I decided.

My musings were cut short when a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in my line of vision. It was Amelia Brown.

“Welcome to The Agency, Miss Irving,” she said. “Mr Taylor will see you now. If you would follow me; please.”

We climbed the stairs to the second floor. From the glimpse of the first floor I had it was clear to see this was a well oiled machine as there was an open-plan floor with many, many cubicles full of people tapping on computers and wearing the company given uniform of fawn trousers and black polo shirts. The second floor was divided into offices and Samuel’s was at the end of the corridor to the left.

Amelia led me through an empty door way to a spacious room with two desks on either side of a burning fireplace. One desk was empty and the other had a slight young man behind it, talking furiously down the phone. On both my left and right side was a door set in the middle of each wall. I was shown through the one of the left.

Samuel was pacing and was livid. Shots of orange and red flew out from his body from a white base at his chest. A wall of heat enveloped him and washed over me as we entered.

“I don’t care!” he raged down the phone that was clamped tight to his ear. “That may have been the case but now this is the new one. There is a thing called freewill, and it is being used. No thanks to you that is – Oh, you tried? Well, not hard enough. This sets us back considerably, you realise this don’t you?”

I glanced at Amelia whose eyes were cast down. This was obviously not the first time she had come across Samuel’s temper. There was a pause as the person replied.

“I see, I apologise, Sir,” he muttered. The apology insincere on his lips. “Naturally, I am always willing to take up the gauntlet of any challenge. A report will be made once everything has fully commenced.”

He stabbed the end call button before noticing us standing in the doorway.

“Ah, come in. Thank you Amelia,” he said stiffly, waving her out of the room. She scurried away, closing the door before her with a soft click. “Please, sit.”

I did and he did too. His desk was simple and did not separate us in a great expanse of wood. There was no clutter; only the necessities of office life.

“So, I take it from your being here that you have spoken to your mother and are ready to take up my offer,” he said. His voice was now calm but it was the same calm that is experienced in that hot, close moment before a thunder storm.

“Still with questions though.”

“Fine, shoot.”

“Can I tell the condition of the soul of a person?”

“Yes, that will be covered in our training.”

“Okay, how does an Ereptor hunt?”

“Paralyses its victim’s mind before withdrawing the soul with its hand.”

“How do you stop it?”

“A fight of the mind.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” I asked sardonically.

“Not really, your training will cover that question.” His face was unreadable as he stared me out.

“Right, fine. So everything will be covered in training will it? I’ll save my questions then,” I snapped.

Samuel had the amazing ability to wriggle his way right under my skin and lodge himself there. I let out an exasperated sigh. Faint red and orange flashes pulsed outwards from my chest as I quietly fumed.

“Are you sure? I’m a bank just waiting for you to withdraw knowledge, Helena,” he purred. Those pale, burning eyes regarded me as he leaned back in his leather swing chair.

“I want guarantees,” I said after a moment. “Is this job worth it? I have a life with a future, I can go to Uni, get a degree, get a job and do everything else that everyone else I know is doing. Will I lose my life outside of my ability if I join The Agency?”

My eyes dropped to my hands and I picked at the ragged skin around my right thumbnail. As the words had crawled form my mouth I had realised that that was what was keeping me from jumping at the opportunity. Like my mum had said, I was in the middle of a transition. I had thought my path was set. Perhaps had I known about everything a few years before I wouldn’t have hesitated but I had been so sure of my path for so long that for it to be derailed so close to the end game was disorientating.

“Valid concerns, Miss Irving. In being a Seer you gain a family of people who will give you more support than any of your regular friends are able to,” said Samuel softly. “It is true that with us you will not gain a degree but in our line of work that isn’t necessary. You will be trained initially for field work - to the highest level and gain qualifications that way. We are a branch of the Ministry of Defence and should you move from field work to desk work or a trainer post etc. then you will take the necessary exams and these are often the equivalent to an Honours Degree. The Agency is well thought of in many circles – though they know not exactly of what we do.

“As for your concerns of your life outside of your ability, I can make no promises. Every Seer must make sacrifices. For many it is family and friends and it is likely to be the same case for you. Indeed, very few Seers can conduct a meaningful relationship with a ‘normal’ person and it is unusual for that to happen, hence why so many of us are born into double lineage. After all it is not as if we can leave our work at work when it is built into us.”

It was an information barrage that pressed in on me.

“I understand that this is difficult for you to understand. This is usually why a Seer is told at a younger age,” he said.

“When did you know?” I whispered; in shock from the reality my ability brought.

“I have known as long as I can remember and I am two in my first memory. My first Agency mission was when I was sixteen but I had been freelancing for a year and a half before with my parents.”

Without much success I attempted to organise my thoughts and there was one more thing I really needed to know.

“Doing what we do – does it help people?”

“In short, yes. Yes it does. We can prevent the suffering of many, many people by doing what we do.”

“Okay. I’m in.”

We talked through my contract for the next hour and a half and by the end my head was pounding loudly right behind my eyes and against my temples. It was as though I had a ball being pumped up in my skull and it was straining for more room.

I was taken on the tour; dormitories on the 3rd floor, general workers on the 1st, meeting rooms and kitchen – ground floor and training area in the basement. The majority of the training area was taken up by a large gym with varying equipment to strengthen and condition the body. However, there was also a small three lane pool and several smaller, padded rooms.

“Everybody at The Agency must keep fit and strong. We are like athletes and despite our sport being in the mind we must have the physical strength to maintain our fight,” explained Samuel as we passed a group ranging from sixteen to sixty doing circuits.

“What are the wee rooms for?” I asked, peering into one where three middle aged woman lay on a gargantuan mattress, apparently asleep.

“These are the rooms to train your mind. This is the most difficult part of all your instruction because your mind must be elasticised in order to effectively fight against an Ereptor,” said Samuel. I was suddenly bursting with more questions but Samuel had already moved on.

It seemed utterly bizarre that I’d have to ‘elasticise’ my mind, whatever that meant.
________________________________________

Before I had left Samuel had given me a fitness programme to work on for joining The Agency in the New Year. It was full of long runs, muscular exercises, swimming drills and it even had an attached eating plan. To me, it seemed excessive but dearest Sammie insisted; having eyed the slight podge around my middle distastefully. Such tact! Amazing, natural people skills!

My delayed join up date gave me plenty of time to organise school which I had no objections to. He had told me to say I was going to join the MoD as an intern which wasn’t exactly a lie. While I doubted my rector would believe this I was told to give out Samuel’s card just in case. Further questions from others were to be fended off with, “I’ll eventually become part of the logistics team.” and then “It’s too complicated to explain.” Despite these stock answers I had no confidence them. Especially with Pip. I had no chance.