In the blink of an Eye
#1 of The Rapture Institute
In the blink of an eye.
In ages past, there have been humans, men and women, who have had the Gift. Known by few, yet coveted by those who do, the Gift is something quite beyond the grasp of reason. Although only a handful of people alive know about it directly, the events wrought by the wielding of the Gift forever etched their influence into mankind's intertwined history and belief. It was the gift of God who made the Earth in seven days. It was the Gift of the Titans, bringing forth Existance from where there was None. It was the Gift of the august Spirit Courts and the Gift of Sorcerers and wicked witches. Merlin had wielded it by the side of Arthur, and Circe had used it at her every whim, ignorant perhaps of what she truly held. Few ever understood that they had the Gift when they lived; some never even used it consciously, and what they released was contained and subtle; yet throughout the Evolution of our species, it has been the key to many things previously witheld from us. To believe that intelligence sprung from slow mutations, across boundless generations, is to witness only the surface of the Watch; to perceive the hands on it move, yet never understanding why they do so. The Gift is the tools for the Watchmaker, the very Essence of Change, of Power, of Boundaries crossed like they were naught but paper walls. To the Gift, nothing is impossible, and Nothing is sacred...
"Can't you give us more time!?" The man, identified by the stars on his shoulders as a General wiped the sweat of his brow with a silk handkerchief, the other hand clutching the microphone of the short-wave radio like it was the only thing keeping him afloat in an ocean. The old thing was an amateur radio that had been dug out from a local's attic after damn-near every other device in a five-or-more mile radius had been fried. "You know very well that we can't communicate with the outside, you've got to give us more time!" The man bit his upper lip and moustache repeatedly as he waited for a response, a small gathering of similarly-clad men standing in observance.
For a moment there was just a low humming from the device until the speaker crackled to life once more, and the sound of a man chuckling slowly came from them. "I don't think you understand your situation here, General," the man mused (one could almost see the sly smile on him as he spoke), "I know very well exactly what's going on around here, and I still say you're running out of time. A wise man would have alerted his superiors before he made the decision you did, and now you have to face the consequences..."
For a moment everyone held their breaths, some turning only a slight shade of blue as they'd done so since the voice had begun. What was he going to do? The demands he'd made were reasonable, the general, if somewhat hushed consensus had been, but the US did not cooperate with terrorists... to the gathered mens regret.
As nothing happened, the general wiped his brow once more and flicked the switch in the handle of the mic, once more speaking into it: "Please, I've already dispatched men to get in contact with Headquarters, you can't expect them to have even gotten out of your dead-zone yet!"
"Dead-zone?" The voice seemed slightly less amused, "Is that what you call it? ...Ah, because of the disturbances I reckon... Funny, I experience no trouble over here. Aside, of course, from the odd flickering fluorescent lamp or two, but is that not always so?"
Suddenly another man, this one dressed in a wrinkled suit and with a worn look on his face grabbed the microphone from the general and yelled into it: "God damn you, Adams! My daughter's in there! You let her and the others go right now, or we'll have your head!"
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that," the man replied in a casual tone, "that would be far too dangerous I'm afraid."
"D-Dangerous? What, What are you talking about? You madman! You, you...!" He was suddenly pulled from the microphone by three other men who had apparantly decided they didn't really care for getting themselves in a sticky situation because some civvie couldn't handle the kidnapping of his daughter.
"A bad choice of word perhaps," the man identified as Adam chuckled and cleared his throat, "I do not rightly care for whoever of these miserable specimen is your spawn, but at the moment they're being prepared for the Physical Exams; a stressful experience for any young, blooming woman, I am quite sure. Having them leave now is simply... out of question..."
Jeremiah Adams flicked off the radio with a bothered sigh and swung around in the chair he was sitting in, accidently sending a couple of test-tubes crashing to the floor, the orange, green and blue liquids mixing with loud hisses and steam. He didn't really care for it, he had abandoned that project minutes ago, and now he felt the strange urge to do some collective punishment. Perhaps, if he'd remained on the line for a bit longer, he would have been able to discern the name of that annoying fellow's daughter, but he wasn't interested, anyone would do for now.
Running a hand over his unshaven five-o'clock-shade he walked out of the small Radio shack, a place that had become something of his meditative chamber these last hours. In there he could still smell the old woodwork and the faint smell of burnt dust; a scent that reminded him of his Youth. His shaggy, neck-long brown hair was held back in a crooked pony-tail, although strands of it fell into his face and tickled his nose something incredible. Still, it was good to be alive. His jeans were torn and had a large, rust-colored patch right above the knee, covering almost completely his left thigh. He made a mental note to ask for some clothes the next time. He wasn't even sure what he'd threatened with back when he made his demands, but he was sure it'd been something nasty and unpleasant; bloodshed possibly included.
Well, let the pigs have it. He had enough to at the moment without them sniffing around, and having them sweat over another attack so soon after the recent was well enough, they could go with shedding a few pounds. He drove a bloodstained hand into the right pocket of his labcoat, it quite as worn and torn as the rest of his getup, and fished out a cell-phone, the make looking like it'd been made around the time of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Interestingly, it hadn't even made a bulge in the cloth, yet it was one of the bulky, carry-around phones that only the filthy, and stupidly, rich could have afforded back in the days. He hooked off the receiver and put it against his ear and pressed in "2, 5, 1, 3, 5, 0, 0, 2, 3", and waited for a moment.
"Yes?"
"Tell the girls to line up on the sports field, we're going to have a bit of Exercise, and then we're going to have an examination." There wasn't a response from the other end, but Jeremiah, call-me-Jerry-and-I'll-kill-you, didn't seem to pay that any mind, "oh, and obviously we can't have any trouble with cooperation. So make sure that anyone who mucks about learn their lesson."
"Understood."
"I really wish you'd open up to me, you know," Jeremiah sighed as he put down the receiver. He was a good Golem ("Of course he is, I made him!"), but he seemed completely impervious to any attempts to give the old thing any emotions. He supposed a Frankenstein needed his Igor, and at least Gerald didn't talk with a lisp.
While strolling towards the fields, Jeremiah looked at what he was currently the self-made ruler of. Roughly six and a half square miles of land was what he had deemed just about right when he'd set at this, and aside from the annoyingly located village and apparantly secret military facility that were in the vicinity, the school had been absolutely perfect for his needs. Well, for a starters anyway, he had quite some ideas for it, and that required workers. He wondered whether he'd have to supply them with protection suits, or if they'd be fine anyway... Well, that was a problem for another day.
The school was privately funded, or so he'd learnt (he had only skimmed through the papers the principle had showed him, it wasn't really important who had been running the place), and aside from housing roughly four hundred female students, there had also recently been signed up another twenty or so male students living in a separate dormitory some bit away. Of course, he'd have to deal with them as well, but for now he'd have Beethoven and Itsy-Bitsy deal with them. He didn't like the way Itsy-Bitsy looked at him when he called him, but that would probably be because that particular Golem had been something of a botched test-run. There's nothing to a name really.
The school was mainly used for general education purposes, and therefore lacked much of the equipment he needed, but as the whole complex had been a pretty big farmstead back in the days, there were plenty of room for most of everything he required. Barnyards and Stables, large fields of lazily growing grass, a couple of pools, a lake, a view of the mountains that anyone else would kill for. There was more of course, he'd hardly even scratched at the surface, and the equipment he'd get once he sorted the whole Military Facility thing out would certainly aid his cause.
He glanced over at the rather large gravel field where currently about four hundred, give or take a few, pale-peach colored blobs were huddled together. To be fair, there were plenty of other colors there as well, but like most private schools it was for the discriminative and established; the old Rich. And some new Rich who thought themselves as the old Rich, but they were only tolerated.
"Girls, girls, aren't you all looky peachy today!" He said with a jovial grin as he approached the field, arms spread out in a greeting. Many of the girls were trying to cover themselves, a futile attempt to be sure, and others almost cowed before him as if they could sense some strange aura of power palpating from his very being. How silly. "Now, girls, I know you're probably feeling a bit cold, what can you expect with this weather, but I'd like for you all to have a little run around the field to warm yourselves up. Afterwards, we're going to have a bit of a check-up, and those of you who behave yourself will get a nice treat for lunch. I've talked things over with Madam Balkins, and she assured me that she agrees the food here really needs to be kicked up a notch, don't you all agree?"
Silence, and maybe a murmur or two, but then to his surprise a young woman walked up to front, hair fiery red, eyes green as emeralds and freckles on her face, her breasts perky and her somewhat prominent nipples standing at attention because of the chill in the air. She didn't seem to mind though, as she was glaring at him with a mixture of hatred, resolve, and a tiny ounce of fright.
"Who are you?" She demanded, and the frankness of the question made him blink in surprise. "Who are you and why are you here? Why did you take our clothes, why do you keep us locked up and WHAT are those things?" She pointed a shaking finger at Gerald who loomed like Ayers Ro... no, it was called Uluru these days, wasn't it? Anyway, he was looming like a big rock, or a mountain... no, more like a rock, anyway...
"A-Answer me!" the girl shivered, most likely because of the cold, but she was growing redder in her face, obviously her courage was waning a little as she actually went through with the impulse.
"Ahh..." he began, scratching the back of his head before digging up a cigarette from his stained pocket, lighting it and putting it into his mouth absentmindedly. "Where should I begin? With the golem, or why you're naked, or...?" he shrugged a bit and looked as the girl pursed her lips slightly. "A feisty one," he thought slowly as she opened her mouth again to speak:
"You have ABSOLUTELY no right to keep us here! Where are our parents? Where is Mr. Fitzerwaldt?" Jeremiah looked slightly taken aback, embarrassed even, by this torrent of questions and accusations.
"My dear girl,"
"Sara," she said with a defiant glare, "Sara McIntyre."
"My dear Sara, there is so much I could be telling you right now, and all of it true, I might add. But I don't believe in explanations, I believe in action. Now, I also believe in the Carrot and the Whip. If you want someone to do something, you tempt them with the carrot. If they don't do it, you threat them with the whip. Carrot and the whip." He took a deep breath of the cigarette and blew out the smoke through his nose before continuing. "As I have chosen this school for my project, you have all been chosen to take part in it. I won't call it either an honor or a punishment, a carrot or whip, but I think most of you will come to like it. I do not judge based on your skin, on your build, your personality or your history. You are all here naked because that is the way you are born into this world, and without your clothes there is nothing to distinguish yourself from others aside from your genetic make-up..." he paused for a brief moment and hoped that no one start to question that as well. It WAS mostly for that reason, but apparantly this was something done to humiliate prisoners before, he'd seen it in some movie, and he really didn't want them to have an ounce of pride left when he really got started, it'd help them along the way.
"...and?" The red-haired girl, ah, Sara, folded her arms, and he grimaced as he just had another of his brilliant ideas. Yes, she was perfect for that.
"Aaaand that's all of it. Your parents aren't coming, never ever... for now, and when they do you're not going to be leaving anyway, so just look forward to that and try to go with the flow." he scratched the back of his head again and snapped his finger to Gerald, who suddenly clomped towards the small building containing the sports equipments. "Now, if you all get into a light jog, we'll have this done in no time. Don't be shy girls, I'm a professional." he sat down just as Gerald put the chair he'd carried out underneath him, settling a table in front of it with his other hand. "Thank you, Gerald," Jeremiah muttered with the cigarette in his mouth, but the golem didn't reply.
The girls looked at each other for a few moments, one or two made some motion to start running, but the looks from the rest of them made them stop in their motions.
"Well...?" Jeremiah frowned as Sara once more walked up to him.
"If we... if we agree to do what you say, will you promise our parents are coming? And you'll tell us what's going on?"
Jeremiah guffawed as the chair smashed to the ground with a crack, sending gravel flying. He'd been leaning on it, but now he was so shocked by the request that he'd lost his balance. "Haha, yes, yes of course I will!" he proclaimed happily, his arms once more spread out, "Honestly, you're going to love this, all of you!" Somehow it didn't really seem to convince everyone. He noticed a few sobs here and there; in fact, there'd been a few sobs the whole time, but he really couldn't care less. Such was the fate of the Revolutionary, he thought bitterly as he once more settled into a half-leaning position, observing the girls on the field. Yes, Sara would definitely be the first one, no doubt about that. She had the right making of her, and with a short leash she'd do an excellent job.
After the girls had been, rather slowly, going a few laps around the field, Jeremiah clapped his hands twice and shouted: "All right, that's it for now. I hope you all got a good warm-up now, because we'll be doing some tests now, and I don't want any complaints of stitches in your sides, or sprained ankles!"
The girls moved slowly towards him, and it seemed they'd gotten at least a little used to him being there; he supposed the (imagined) threat he posed to any disagreeing parties was enough to keep them in line.
"Alright, this is going to take a while, so I want you all to sort into... ahh..." he frowned, "how many of you are there anyway?"
"398," Sara responded immediatly, "Jenny from class 2-A's got a fever and Esmeralda from 1-D refused to come...." Sara repeated with rather neat reports of the remaining four or so missing students; Nothing bad really, most of them were either sick or too frightened to leave their rooms; he'd make sure Itsy-Bitsy put them together in the special group later on.
"Now, girls," he rose from his seat and began to pace back and forth, "I think that, in this day and age, schools are becoming far too incapable in handling the physical aspects of education in exchange for larger classes, incompetent teachers and half-assed workbooks. There's going to be a change to that. Every day, starting from today, we will be doing a set of exercises that you will ALL participate in. IF you do chose not to do this, I will put you in the SPECIAL group, together with those of you who weren't here today. You have been warned."
There was a low, worried murmur regarding this revalation? Were those too sick to participate to be punished? What was this?
"SILENCE!" he suddenly roared, and the large group of young women fell silent except for the odd squeak of terror, "Thank you. Now, this will not be a harrowing experience, in fact compared to the life of an active athlete it will be quite enjoyable. We will measure your Stamina, Strength, Flexibility and Coordination. You will ALL form groups of four and you and your partners will work together through thick and thin, hail and snow, etc. to make sure that your Performance Reports are all written correctly; Your fates depends on it. We will also regularly take measures of height, weight, breasts, waist and hips; this will be done once a week." There was a slightly louder murmur of discontent at this. He ignored it.
"As some of you will perhaps be at times unable to perform in the daily activities, I need to make sure at least ONE of you will be handing in the reports to me every day. No matter what. I assure you, I WILL read them."
"Hey, wha-" Sara suddenly began, looking furious,
"YOU will speak when SPOKEN too, Miss McIntyre," Jeremiah noted with a sudden sharpness in his tones, pushing up his glasses with his index-finger and taking another breath from his cigarette; the damn thing didn't seem to run out.
"AS I was saying, some of you will be surprised by the improvements you will experience from this routine, and I can already say that you're quite welcome, there's no need to thank me."
"Now that I am done with the introductions and Aim for this particular program, I will tell you some rules that will be in use here at Rapture Institute. And YES, I am aware that this school was PREVIOUSLY named S:t Margrat's something something, but that is now changed. Rapture Institute, whether you like it or not. It may be changed whenever I feel like it, but learn the name."
"The rules are: 1. You are not allowed to leave the school grounds unless under Orders from me, and under the Supervision of me, my Golems or one of the School's Prefects. Prefects will be appointed by me based on my criteria. As it is physically Impossible to at the moment leave the Institute, I think the first rule will be quite easy to Follow."
"Rule Number 2: There will be obedience. I have a Divine Plan for Rapture Institute, and this Plan can not be altered by you, or anyone else. Therefore, you WILL comply, one way or another, CARROT or WHIP, to what I tell you to. I say "Jump", you say, in the middle of the air "When should I come down?"."
"Rule Number 3: There will be no mingling with the lads over at the Frescati Campus... or whatever you call it. If and when you meet them, it is under my supervision and order."
"Final Rule... for now. Be patient. I cannot express strongly enough what we are doing here. You will come to understand my Plan once we are approaching its completion, and you will find it Good. In the meantime, try to relax and enjoy yourselves, okay?"
The air seemed to sag out of him as he dug his hands into his pockets.
"Now, I want all of you to nominate ONE of you that will serve as a spokesperson to me. That person is the ONLY one I will talk to unless I see it fit to talk to you. Do you understand? I have no time or patience for small complaints, and this spokesperson will have some manner of influence in how things are done. Choose wisely."
For a few seconds the only sound was the breeze in the nearby trees, then almost unanimously the large crowd of girls seemed to look at Sara, who at once blushed crimson red, yet seemed almost to have expected it to turn out like this. "Call'em like I see'em..." Jeremiah mused inside his head as he nodded to the young woman.
"How old are you Sara?" He grinned as she looked taken aback by the question. The girls at the school were of varying age, though the youngest was probably no older than fifteen... sixteen maybe? The loose organisation was partly the students' fault, very few of them hadn't had to re-take a year or so, studying had generally been somewhat neglected.
"I...I'm seventeen." She said with a grumble, and Jeremiah nodded.
"Have you ever been a figure of authority before, Sara?"
"I was the Class representative five years ago." She mumbled, suddenly feeling like she was ten again, and the principle asked her why she hadn't attended the Student Council meeting five times in a row.
"I see. Then, I believe you will be the perfect one for the job..." He took his right hand out of his pocket and grabbed hers, shaking it, "Spokesperson."
Sara smiled a little, but only for a very short while, and then she pulled back her hand, her brow furrowed and her eyes attentive, "I don't know what you're trying to pull... but I'll keep my eyes on you, and you better make sure our parents come around soon!"
"Indeed!" Was all Jeremiah said before he turned to the rest of the gathered, "Now, if you would all please prepare some good exercises for me, please. I want you to make sure we've got running, jumping, throwing, gymnastics and some good team-sports. I also want one member of each Team to come up to this table here and collect your Report cards and pencils. And don't even think of trying to stab me with them, we will be collecting and counting them after we're done, and I've lived through a bulletwound withhout getting slowed down." He indicated briefly the large stain on his pants, "Get to it!"
The whole procedure was over and done with within three hours. For some reason, the wind had gotten milder as the large group of women had gotten to work with setting up the equipment, and by the time the last pencil and report card had been handed in, it felt almost like mid-summer. Some of the girls even jokingly talking about "how good it felt running laps in the nude, like the old Greek", but Sara had yelled at them about taking this seriously, which had shut them up.
In the dressing rooms, where they each had their own lockers for towels, shampoos and even spare clothing, they found that every single locker had gotten its door removed, and only the towels and washing supplies remained.
"Oh no, I had the ring I got from grandma in here," a girl groaned as she dug through the things in her locker, "what's dad going to say?"
No one really seemed to have an answer for it, and the mood was rather stiff and worried as they all got cleaned up. The fact that they all weren't even allowed to wear clothes in school bothered some of them immensily, and Christina D'Artiet, a pompous girl whose family ran some kind of Perfume business (and had, as rumour spoke, taken the name to sound more french, as they all came from some midwestern farmholeI) complained loudly how they couldn't possibly be treated like this. A lot of them agreed, yet they felt that there was nothing they could do. At least the townsfolk weren't there to gawk at them, and the fact that the small group of young men that had recently been spotted attending classes in the same building were forbidden from seeing them was somewhat encouraging.
"Alright, everyone, I want you all to know that if there's ANYTHING, come to me," Sara told the rest of her class as she wiped her hair with her towel. The girls had taken it in turns to use the showers and dressing rooms and her group was one of the last. A small, dark-green spot on her towel was bothering her slightly, but as there were about fifty different brands of exotic and expensive soaps and the like floating around the crowded rooms, someone must've obviously spilt it on it. She sniffed at it cautiously, and found to her surprised that it smelled somewhat sour, yet pleasantly so, like a green apple-lolipop.
"Yeah, take it up with the Spokesperson," D'Artiet heckled with an almost desperate grin on her face, "as if he's ever going to do ANYTHING you tell him to. He only made us appoint you so that he can make us believe we've actually got a say in the matter. You know what I think? I think he's killed Princip..."
"I think you ought to shut up, D'Artiet," Sara suddenly snapped, to her own surprise as much as the others, "and mind what we ought to do instead. We're stuck like this, and none of our cell-phones work, right?" She couldn't help but sniff at the spot again, it smelt so good!
"Oh, like you're one to talk!" Christina grumbled, but she kept quiet, drying herself before heading out into the summer-like warmth. It was hard to believe it was mid-April right now.
Sara stood and watched as D'Artiet and her small clique of girls walked outside, and she found to her surprise that she had her nose buried deep in the towel. Slightly disgusted with herself, she threw it into her locker and looked at the few remaining girls with a helpless expression.
"Don't worry Sara," Rose, a slightly pudgy but good-natured girl said with a weak attempt at a smile, "I'm sure our parents are doing everything they can right now to fix this."
"Yeah, I hope so..." Sara responded with a sort of absent look on her face, her eyes slowly drawn towards her locker. The rumble of her stomach, however, took her out of her daze and she walked towards the exit. "What kind of food do you think they'll be serving today?" she asked out loud as she headed over to the dining hall.
She awoke with a start, her eyes wide open as she fumbled for the light on the bedside. Turning it on she hoped for a moment that it had all been a dream, but to her utter dread she was lying naked under her blanket, her small room illuminated only slightly by the weak lamp; the school had been very much against late-night reading. She sat up slowly, and realized something had fallen to the floor.
Her towel! Her eyes widened as memories of the lunch sprung back into her mind; They'd been served Veal, fine Vegetables and Juice from all kinds of different plants. Although the standard of the School Cafeteria was pretty good, all things considered, this was four- maybe even five-star dishes! She'd eaten a bit, although something had been gnawing at her insides, and before she'd known it she'd been back in the locker-room, taking out her towel. The green spot was there, and she'd sniffed it, sniffed it so deep it had felt as if her nostrils would cave in. Then she'd brought it to her room, and she'd gone to bed... Why? Well, there hadn't been any announcements of classes for the rest of the day, obviously, and those big, stone things seemed happy enough as long as they didn't either a) Wear clothes, improvised or or real, or b) muck about, as they'd said.
So she'd gone to bed... And then... the blanket... She looked down on it and her stomach churned uncomfortably; that smell was in the air now, so strong, musky, yet... yet she couldn't TASTE it! She bent down to pick it up and felt a sudden stir in her loins. It wasn't unfamiliar, but at a time like this?
She spread her towel on her pillow and stared at the green spot. So small, so innocent, so irresistable. She licked it. She gasped in surprise at what she was doing, but she licked it just the same, again and again, her tongue stroking against the soft cloth as she felt the sour, musky, earthy taste. The smell! She suckled on it, her sex exploding in heat as she began to rub her thighs against each other instinctively, yet she tried to resist the urge to outright finger herself. She gasped in pleasure as the green droplet seemed only to taste more and more, and then she realized she was already pumping her fingers deep into her snatch, her beedsheets soaking with her copiously flowing juices. She'd NEVER been this horny before! And there wasn't the usual half-fuzzy images of some movie star or something, what she usually tried to get off to (and failed at). No, this time there was only the raw sex in her mind, the feeling of a hot, stiff, cock, even though she'd never experienced it, filling her, the lust that nature itself created to make sure that the act of procreation is performed. A need to be fucked. She ground her clit with her thumb, moaning and gasping as she came again and again, her entire world surrounded by a hazy and musky fog of sex and sour, juicy green apples.