(BtVS/Firefly/Push) Pushing Towards Tomorrow
Disclaimer: I'm poor. I own nothing
Notes: I watched 'Push' again the other night and this idea just refused to leave until I wrote it down.
Pushing Towards Tomorrow
There have always been the odd person born with power throughout human history, but it wasn’t until the Second World War that psychics as we know them today really came to be. Hitler took a great interest in psychic warfare back then. He never got to see those experiments come to fruition, though the first of the ‘modern’ psychics was born from them.
After the war other governments followed suit and started their own research into identifying, training, and improving psychics. Off the books of course. Most of these programs were simply referred to as Divisions, if they even had a name at all. It’s ironic, really, that the States and China’s respective programs were such bitter rivals only for the twos superpowers to merge in the exodus from Earth.
Both were arguably the two most powerful Divisions on the planet back in the day. Both with a wide range of psychics at there disposal; voluntary or not.
Pusher can ‘push’ thoughts into someone else’s head making them believe or do whatever they want; Readers can read the thoughts of another person; Movers can move objects with their minds; Watchers see glimpses of the future; Sniffers can gleam the past from objects; the list goes on and on.
It didn’t really matter what your power was or what country you were in there was usually only two choices for a psychic. Join Division or die. Some choice huh?
I guess that’s one good thing that came out of the Exodus. When it came time for humanity to leave Earth-That-Was most of the information on psychics was lost or destroyed in the confusion and panic. And for a while at least we got to taste true freedom.
It must have been nice. I wouldn’t know.
Now it’s five hundred years later and the Alliance has a Division of its own, only they call it The Academy. Collecting the best and brightest, anyone who even shows a modicum of potential. Mostly children, and mostly those who have no idea what they really are.
All in the name of research. The same old experiments, the same old reasoning. It’s all about the weapons.
Who am I? Damned if I know to be honest. I go by the name Xander Harris, but I honestly don’t know if that’s my real name. It’s as good a name as any other I suppose.
All of us here are put through a custom battery of experiments. Mine messes with my sense of identity pretty good. Sometimes the dream world they have me live through seems more real than the one out here.
It’s a world of old and of magic and monsters. I’m pretty sure the images of the vampires and human like demons are taken from files on the Browncoats, the ‘enemy’ we’re being prepared for in a war that is already over.
I’m a Mover here, but in that world I’m powerless among the powerful. There’s probably some deep psychological reasoning behind it. A subconscious impression telling me that in this world they are the strong and I should obey. If that’s the case then it’s not working. Hell, for all I know they just do it for kicks.
It just doesn’t matter. I doubt it’s event he first scenario they’ve made me live through. It’s just the most recent and the most vivid. There are fragments of others, but they’re too fluid and I can’t grasp the memories. Sometimes I wonder which is the real me. Sometimes I wonder if the real me is even left in here.
But I can take the pulling of my mind in ten different directions; I can take the pain; both the psychological and the more physical pains the experiments rack through my body. I have to. At eighteen I’m the oldest and I have to be strong for the others.
Most I don’t see very often. We only pass in the hallways from one torturous experiment to the next. There is a girl though in the cell next to mine that I watch over as best I can.
Her name is River, a reader who never even knew of her talent before coming to The Academy. I don’t know exactly what they are doing to her but I can imagine. None of it is pretty, that’s for sure. Every day she’s brought back to her cell a little less lucid than the day before. Every night I whisper sweet lies to give her hope and anchor her as best I can. There are microphones of course, but with a Reader I hardly have to whisper with my words.
It’s a risk on my part, but I can’t not
try to help her. That I know just isn’t me. If they ever found out I’d be in for a heap of trouble. I’m supposed to be too drugged up and broken to think of consoling others or using my power.
My mind may be confused but it’s not broken. Their drugs may be strong but my body has grown used to it and adjusts. I could have broken myself out of here by now no problem, but only myself. There’s no way I could just abandon the others to these butchers. So I wait and I plan.
And then I curse. Internally of course.
I don’t blame River’s brother, not really. He couldn’t know that I had been planning our escape for months. He couldn’t know that in a few days I was going to get everyone out. He’s just trying to save and protect his sister and I can hardly blame him for that.
It still screws everything up. Now The Academy will change protocols and tighten security and all my careful planning will be for nothing. They’re on alert now as it is and I know I won’t be able to get everyone out anymore, but I’ll have to risk it.
If nothing else River’s brother just proved that The Academy’s Watchers don’t see everything; or at least don’t tell them everything. At least a few of them know I’m planning something. I’ve passed them in the corridors and seen the knowing look in their eyes and wondered. Had they told them what they saw? If they kept it to themselves is it because they know I fail anyways, or that I’ll take them with me when I go?
Whatever, I can’t think about this right now. The alarms aren’t blaring anymore, but everyone is on alert and jumpy still and it’s now or never, while they’re still confused.
I raise my hand and blow the door off my cell right into the face of a startled guard.