We step through the frosted glass door and I hear Zula gasp in awe. The office is beautiful. Sunlight filters delicately through the stained glass windows sending multicolored light skittering over the white furniture and the white… actually the whole room was white excepting the stained glass windows. It seems the designer left the windows to do the coloring. It looks amazing. The windows themselves showed images of girls and boys doing feats of magic well, they were focusing really hard on objects hanging in thin air in front of them.
“Hello Gattaca, Zula!” squeaks a voice that seems to fit only Alvin of the Chipmunks. I try to find the rodent rock star but find only a large portly man who is oozing out the sides of his overlarge desk chair.
“I am the principle at your new placement or at least I will be in a week, my name is Josiah Hickleburrroe, but that’s Mr. Hickleburrroe to you. Now-“
I try. Zula is barely controlling herself. She’s trying so hard tears are trickling down her face. I permit myself a loud snicker to ease the strain in my chest.
“Is there something you two find funny?” Mr. Hickleburrroe asks in deadly voice. I’d be terrified by the look on his face alone, but for the fact he sounded like a squeaky toy that a dog had gotten hold of.
That puts us over the edge. Zula and I collapsed into a heap of mirth tears flowing freely from our eyes as we clutch at each other trying to regain control. Finally regaining our composure takes a while but we finally manage and find a man who could only look more furious if we had just killed the last donut maker in the world.
“ Girls, if you will please just pay attention to me for ten minutes I can explain how you can survive this training,” the donut-eater squeals. “So please have a seat and listen. Now I understand that you two turn thirteen in a week, correct? Well I can tell I am by the astonished looks on your faces.” He was clearly cheering up while our hearts were sinking.
“Here in the Youths with Miraculous Gifted Minds Academy, or YMGMA we prepare you for The Army. Each individual has a mental capability that surpasses the most intelligent minds in the outside world. Some have can track where objects have been, others can move objects with their minds, others can make other people their puppets, still others can-“ the chorus of California Girls erupted from his pocket. Mr. Hickleburrroe pulled it out and stared at it squinting and turning it this way and that trying to read the caller ID. When the song reached “Sex, sex on the beach…” he shot us a sheepish look and answered it with a squeaked “Excuse me a minute”.
After a rushed conversation with a “Slick” that consisted mostly of “I’ll call you back later ok?!” he shoved the phone violently back in his in his pocket.
“So where were we girls?” Mr. Hickleburrroe squealed. “Oh yes. So you Zula have the unique ability to warp time in your favor, which in enables you to move extraordinarily quickly to pinch things from you fellow orphans and supervisors.”
“I am not an orphan.”
“What?”
“I was stolen from my parents on my fifth birthday, I am not an orphan”
I have never seen Zula so furious. She is shaking and her hands are curled into lethal fists and she rose to her feet. Her small form of 4’10 (and a half)” seems to fill the entire room. She looks so dangerous I almost cower under the enormous desk like poor Mr. Hickleburrroe was attempting to do. I had learned long ago (the hard way) never to mention her parents. I half expect her to beat the lesson into Mr. Hickleburrroe so I place a tentative hand on her arm and whisper “ Zula, it’s ok, he doesn’t know, all he knows is what he’s been told. It’s ok Zula.” She has tears trickling down her freckled face, I see a flash of red the exact color of her hair and I’m falling down, down, down…
I’m at a five-year-old’s birthday party surrounded by her kindergarten friend’s and her opened presents. There’s chocolate cake on her mouth and on the front of her brand new princess dress. Her mother hurries over with one last present and a napkin to clean her daughter’s face. Her dad comes over with a camera and everyone crowds around the Birthday girl, who looks up and laughs her bright green eyes twinkling. They have to retake the picture because her best friend had been pulling the Birthday girl’s red hair from her mouth.
She rips open her last present and her mother smiles at her delight. It’s a brown bear with a red ribbon around his neck a tiny farm embroidered on the bow. She runs to hug her parents to thank them but is caught by a stranger in black nobody had noticed. Her parents begin to scream, and so does she, kicking and scratching at the man, still clutching the bear. They stuff her in a car as a woman steps out she smiles at the parents and the terrified kids and hands a replica of the small scared Birthday girl to her parents explaining about a misunderstanding…
I’m sitting next to a terrified Young Zula in her new black bedroom. The door opens tentatively and a Young Gatt sticks her black haired head in. She tells Zula everything is going to be okay and where did she come from. Zula beats her up and asks where she is…
“Gattaca! Are you okay? What happened?” I’m back in regular time.
“Oh Zula,” is all I manage before I burst into tears and hug her.
“Gatt what happened? You’re not usually this mushy.”
“She has just showed us a magnificent example of her skill. She can tap into any memory fell any presence or read any thought of those around her; these skillsmature at the age of thirteen but there is a slight preview at the age of one. We kept Gattaca just a little to long and her parents-““What?”
“I said that-“
“I heard you,” I snarl. “I had parents? We are called OWP. Orphans With Potential. Orphans. Children whose parents have died. And you are telling me that I had living, breathing parents who were getting worried about my well being and you just TOOK ME?!”
“Well Gattaca it’s different then that, we did give them a daughter back-“ Mr. Hickleburrroe is getting very worked up but I don’t care. I was stolen, kidnapped. Like Zula, did my parents scream my name? Did they chase the car? Did they search for me? Call the police, cry for me?
“Listen Gattaca we left an exact replica of you with them, they never new the difference. So as I was saying-“
“Look I’m still a little hung up o the whole I was kidnapped from my parents thing so if we could get back to that-“
“Gatt, remember what you told me earlier? He only knows what he’s been told, nothing else. Let’s hear what else he has to say before we leave okay?” I look a Zula’s pleading face and realize she’s right. Mr. Hickleburrroe is a mere puppet.
“Alright now that that’s settled. Gattaca you were going to be sent back with your parents when you did something magnificent, something never seen before, we weren’t sure where to pit her in the academy-“
“Just get on with it! What did I do that was so superb?” I’m practically screaming at him.
“Well you se there’s the problem, I don’t know. They won’t tell me. It’s driving me bonkers. Now Gattaca would you please do me a huge favor? As soon as you learn to control your powers come back here and go up through this door here and find out what you did and tell me? Thank you ever so much!” He is squealing in excitement.
“Now girls here are your schedules locker combinations where all the supplies you need will be, and finally you dorm number. Good luck!” Mr. Hickleburrroe attempts to stand to chivalrously open the door for us, but his extraordinary mass has become permanently wedged in his chair. “Good day ladies!” he squeaks instead in an obvious attempt to get us to leave so he can summon the fragile secretary (who was listening to our entire conversation with and ancient ear pressed to the door) over to help him.
