"Miss Renner? Are you awake yet?"

My eyelids flutter open, blinded by harsh lighting. I squeeze them shut and then ease them open again. As I furrow my eyebrows, an unfamiliar woman smiles at me. Her gray clothing has a signature plus-sign on it.

"Hospital?" I mumble.

She nods. "A lot of other Screeners are here as well."

"Screeners..." I repeat sluggishly, pain medicine dulling my concentration. Fire, smoke, and ash fill my thoughts vaguely. A young boy and my shaking gun. Stray bullet fired from my own fingers.

The bombs.

"Am I hurt?" I ask slowly.

"First degree and second-degree burns, a heat stroke," the nurse answers. "But not a problem. We have you fixed and healed."

"Okay." The feeling in my legs start to come back, the remnants of burning fire ready to eat at me again.

"Alright, I'm going to put you back under. You'll be out for another day."

I suddenly grab her arm as she makes a move towards my tubes, "But what-- about Stephen?"

The nurse chuckles. "He's been wanting to see you since you first arrived here."

"I-Is he--"

"Not at all. He's unharmed. Now get some rest, Miss Renner."

I struggle to keep my eyes open, repeating Stephen's name, the only person who can truly understand me anymore. My words taper off until I'm asleep.

-- -- -- -- --

"NO!" I wake up thrashing and afraid. I rip imaginary and real tubes off myself, my kicking discarding my sheets onto the ground. I continue to spazz out, panting hard until a nurse rushes in.

"The side effects," she declares to her fellow nurses. "Hallucinations, most likely."

"No, no, no, don't take me back there, don't take me back!" I scream as the staff tries to subdue. Two additional nurses sprint in, stretching emergency medical belts across me, identical to the ones connected to those cold metal tables. I scream even louder, my throat buzzing from my volume.

A male nurse delivers an injection to my arm. I try to fidget, but I can't. All I do is scream and scream and scream, trying in vain to rid myself of the torture chant repeating inside my head. Within seconds, I'm out cold again.

Welcome to the Enhancement Project. Welcome to the Enhancement Project. Welcome to the Enhancement Project.

-- -- -- -- --

My eyelids flutter open, blinded once again by the harsh lighting. I squeeze them shut a few times and then ease them open.

The same female nurse enters the room. "Miss Renner, are you awake?" I nod, rubbing my eyes.

"You've got a visitor."

My eyes shoot open, and I sit bolt upright. "Where is he?"

She chuckles, walking out of the room. I hear her faintly say something, and then a pair of feet run into the room. They stop a few feet from me, and Stephen, looking totally unrested with his crinkled clothing, exhales in relief.

My voice comes out more caring than I thought it would. "Oh, my God, Stephen, how long we're you here?"

"What?" he says, looking down at his own clothes. He straightens out his shirt. The wrinkles magnify.

He looks back up to me, a boyish smile on his face. "Better?"

I grimace playfully, shaking my head.

"I could just take it off, you know," he teases.

I laugh, beckoning him. "Come over here."

He takes a few steps over to my bed, arching his neck to kiss me. I stretch my neck upwards, meeting his lips halfway. Heat spreads across my entire body at his slightest touch. My hands magically find their way onto his shoulders, intoxicated. Fear brought us together in such a short amount of time. Now new attraction will hold us here.

Just as I'm about to wrap my fingers around Stephen's shirt and pull him on top of me, someone clears their voice from across the small room. We both jump apart, wiping our mouthes.

The speaker says, "Attention all citizens: due to the recently-scheduled awards ceremony, you will be required to watch the main broadcast television channel today from 12:00 to 12:30 today. That is all."

"Ah, crap," Stephen says, rubbing his chin.

"Ceremony?" I ask.

"For Screeners. The ones who acted heroically in the rebel attack get medals or something."

"Rebels?" I stop him. "How do you know they were rebels?"

"The stupid experiment people tried to block my hearing when I was guarding yesterday," Stephen explains, "But I heard an extra sentence: the rebels were all successfully arrested."

"Wow."

We sit in silence for a moment, and a loud vibration echoes around the room. My eyes dart to my bedside table, and Stephen pulls out his AirPhone from his jeans. We unlock our phones, anxious and surprised:

Dear HOLLAND RENNER,

The chief commander of Grand Rapids would like to formally thank you for your success in combatting attackers of the city. In order to reward your actions, he invites you to an honorary ceremony taking place in the Government Command Building.

Please dress in your best formal attire. A stylist will be sent to your apartment to assist you.

Signed,
C.C. WELSH

"What?" Stephen says. "I wasn't even near the bombings. This doesn't make any sense."

"Same here," I say. "I fired one bullet that was a complete miss."

"Miss?"

I briefly explain my internal struggle with the electrical pulses and the 10-year-old boy.

"So what should we do?" Stephen asks, scrolling through the message again on his Phone, "Blow off this thing or..."

"We should go," I say, "to find out what's actually going on. It's the only way to get a better idea, right?"

The nurse enters the room again, holding a stack of clothing. She shoos Stephen out before letting me change into the pale t-shirt and jeans.

I thank her for everything before joining Stephen again in the hallway. He leads the way through the maze of blank corridors, dropping down a flight of stairs that we exit onto the street through.

We weave through the summery city, hands linked together. A sudden memory flashes into my mind: my parents holding each of my hands as a child, whipping me through the air as we walked. A syrupy feeling thickens in my stomach. I miss my mom and dad a lot, but at least they know I'm alive.

Before I know it, Stephen and I are right back where we started: the hallway between our apartment doors. After a quick good-bye, I find myself in my living room, staring blankly at the carpet.

I shake myself out of the reel of childhood memories playing in my head. I still can't understand how I went from innocent schooler to human test dummy.

After a handful of minutes, someone knocks on the door. I cautiously unlock it, fearing every possibility running through my head. I crack open the door.

A dark-haired woman in ashy black smiles, adjusting the handle on one of her suitcases, "Hello. I'm here to prepare you for your ceremony."

I let her in without any questioning. The stylist leads me into my living room and dolls me up using make-up and other foreign powders.  With her help, I fit into a white and gold dress with sharp accents cut out around my stomach. The stylist makes a big fuss about not allowing me to look into the mirror until I'm completely finished. I refrain from insulting her.

Who cares about my clothes when I could have electric pulsed through me at any moment? I know it's not her fault, but it's hard to remain smiley and happy when the world is out to ruin you. It really is.

Finally, the woman allows me to look in the mirror. My hair is straight, like always, but slicked back behind my shoulders. Heavy make-up coats my eyes, and my overall look is flashy and sharp.

I fake a smile and tell her it's amazing. When the woman finally leaves, I analyze myself in the mirror again. I look fierce and power-hungry. I don't like it, but I don't know how to fix it.

I check the time: 11:42. Sighing at the beautiful mess the stylist made me into, I walk alone to the elevator and into the street. Stephen didn't answer his apartment door when I knocked, so I conclude he already left to find the ceremony hall.

I follow a man in a white suit the entire distance. He leads me pass a few city blocks, into a building, and through a long marble hall. We step into a highly-decorated room, about 50 people standing in two lines across a low stage. Cameras position themselves in two of the four corners of the room, ready to show the city, maybe even the nation, how dedicated Screeners are to Grand Rapids.

I join a random row of guests, and no one glances at me for sliding into place. I immediately spot the back of Stephen's head in front of me. Subtle relief reassures my sanity.

A minute later, the chief commander, or C.C, walks into the room. All of us salute him while the cameras roll, and he salutes back. Mounting the stage, he starts his speech.

"Welcome, Screeners, to your honorary ceremony of bravery and service. You have all proven yourselves loyal to your country during the attack on September 4th. Protectors like yourselves are the best supporters of our glorious motto: freedom with limits, security over privacy. I will now recognize you each individually and award you with a prestigious Hybriad Star alongside a job promotion.

"I begin with Evan Skyle. Mr. Skyle killed three rebels and rescued two citizens from the blast zones."

The white suit bends his neck, accepting his blue medal. He shakes the C.C.'s hand with a smile.

The C.C. flies through seven other Screeners before reaching someone whose story I want to hear. "Stephen Moore. Mr. Moore successfully disarmed a bomb, saving countless lives."

I suddenly feel sick. What kind of lies are these people telling and why? Stephen wasn't even near the bombs. Yet it doesn't matter. Stephen bends his neck with the same arch he used to kiss me just an hour ago. He accepts his medal, not that he could refuse it, and he shakes the chief commander's hand. The facade disgusts me.

Thirty more people are recognized before its my turn. By this time, I'm nervous and ready to run off stage.

"Holland Renner. Miss Renner disarmed three rebels in a blast zone, injuring herself in the process."

I keep my face stiff as a medal is slung onto my neck. I look the chief commander right in the eyes, trying to read his expression. I come up empty he shakes my hand and moves on to the next Screener.

I see the cameras turn to the girl next to me. I watch the lenses' hawk-like movements, zooming in and out on their targets. Why would someone bother live-streaming this? Why would rebels even be attacking a city like Grand Rapids anyway?

How are there even rebels to begin with?

Suddenly, I realize that I'm not the only one who's wondering this. Gears begin to turn in my head. This isn't a real award ceremony or a real promotion; this is a commercial. The government wants citizens to know they have everything under control, we shouldn't worry. The Screeners succeeded in stopping the attacks; we proved ourselves loyal to our country, like robots to their controllers.

All of these events are happening too fast, one right after the other. There must be a connection between the Enhancement Project and the bombs.

There has to be.

-- -- -- -- --

"rewarding" honor won. hehe, i enjoy Hephen more than anything else. anyone else ship it? haha lolz.

okay, i'm going to stop now.

Pick a remaining choice: a "subtle" change or a "rebel's" conviction.