“Privileged”

“I am going to be crowned Privileged.”

That phrase had permeated Julia Lynch’s life for as long as she could remember. She’d spoken it to her parents every night at dinner.

“How was school today?” they’d ask.

“Good. I learned things that will help me be crowned Privileged,” she’d reply.

She’d spoken it to everyone in school: her friends, her teachers, even her bullies. It was her answer to every question she’d ever been asked.

“Why don’t you ever look at people when they’re talking?”

“Because I’m going to be crowned Privileged.”

“Why do you keep twitching like that?”

“Because I’m going to be crowned Privileged.”

“Why do you think you have any chance of being Privileged?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re not going to be crowned Privileged, like me.”

“Why do you want to be privileged?” they would ask.

“Because you’re not going to be,” Julia would reply. Many assumed Julia was being cruel, but her answer was born of pure, apathetic honesty. She spoke as a shining intellect, drowning in the oppressive sea of normalcy.

Let the others have their petty squabbles over what to eat or what to wear, their senseless attention to the excruciating details of what color went with what and how soft the couch was and how pretty the artwork on the wall appeared to be.

Let them compete over who could run faster, or jump higher, or lift more weights, or who could kick a ball or shoot a ball or tackle each other with the most gumption.

Let them spend hours upon end discussing their emotions, the oft-repeated phrase “I feel” sounding like a dissonant screech in Julia’s ears—as if she cared about the vain, irrational sensations that passed through the fickle hearts of humanity. No, Julia would rise above all of that and find her place among the brilliant, if only to escape the intellectual stench of the rest of the mundane human race.

The Privileged were the best and brightest of society. They would understand, as Julia did, that there was more to life than the omnipresent trifles of sentiment.

Unlike many childhood dreams, Julia’s desire only intensified as she grew older. She didn’t just study; instead, she turned her assigned reading into a full-fledged war: Julia v.s. the teacher—who could carry a greater mastery of the material?

The answer was always Julia. Her teachers weren’t going to be Privileged, like her.

It didn’t surprise Julia when she was marked higher than any of her classmates, when she received perfect score after perfect score on every exam. It came as no shock when Julia was scouted by the Descartes’ Institution for Fledgling Geniuses at the age of fourteen. Such was to be expected for one like Julia.

Her parents shed many tears over the departure of their only child, but Julia left home without sparing her former life a second glance. Julia’s parents were as steeped in the cesspool of human inadequacy as the rest of the unprivileged.

Julia found more of a home in Descartes’ Institution than she ever had in her pitiful public education. The teachers pushed students far past what seemed moral or decent, as if they were trying to find the children’s breaking points. Hours upon hours of homework, surprise tests and exams accounting for massive portions of the students’ marks, asinine requirements that had almost nothing to do with respectable education…

It wasn’t enough for Julia. The standards were far too low and the students and teachers stank of barely-concealed stupidity. She could smell it on them, every time there was a delay in their responses, every time their faces would furrow in concentration to get their ice-slow brains to function, every time they looked down on Julia for the way her head constantly twitched with impatience, waiting for the world to finally challenge her.

Julia would prove her superiority. She drafted essays that were filled with the most complicated rhetoric known to man, asked questions that would stump even fifth-tier educators, and every day, in every class, vocalized the constant, unrelenting complaint:

“Professor, I’m sorry, but could you find some way to make this material more challenging? I’m going to need a lot more of a push from you so I can become Privileged.”

She was an outlier. A blemish of sheer excellence on the face of Descartes’ Institution. The faculty threw their best, most vicious educators at Julia, and none were able to dent her unrelenting resolve and her penchant for making even the most brilliant minds of her day feel insufficient.

Unwilling to admit defeat to a now sixteen year-old-girl, Dean Walters of Descartes’ Institution did what any self-respecting chairman would do; he issued Julia the Test of Privilege to her more than six years early.

This Test was the exposition of human brilliance, the culmination of raw intelligence. It pushed, poked, and prodded the human intellect in order to judge its worth. As Julia sat in the pristine metal classroom, fingers flying across her keyboard, eyes scanning the page with the precision and speed of a motion-sensing camera, Dean Walters felt confident that the test would finally humble the irrepressible Julia Lynch.

Forty-two minutes into the three-hour test, Julia stood and approached the Dean. “Giving up?” he asked.

Julia’s head twitched, and her mouth twitched into what could almost be described as a smile. Her cold brown eyes stared at the wall behind Dean Walters, her gaze as sharp as an eagle’s. A small alert sounded on the Dean’s pad. He swiped his finger across the glassy surface, and Julia’s results shone through.

She’d scored ninety-eight percent.

Dean Walters stared at the numbers on the page, trying to comprehend it. She’d passed the Test of Privilege—a test so impossibly difficult that Einstein himself would’ve failed. She was something different. Something completely, utterly inhuman.

“Dean Walters?” Julia said, her head twitching again, her tone laced with condescension. “Clearly my intellect is insufficient. I have much work to do.”

“Child, you passed. With this score, you can—”

“I have no interest in hearing you grovel,” Julia said, still glaring at the wall. “You are clearly incapable of expanding my knowledge. I will search for the answers I need, and in a week’s time, you will administer the test again.”

Dean Walters staggered. “But with a ninety-eight—”

“I do not intend to be ninety-eight percent Privileged,” Julia said. She turned and walked out the door without sparing Dean Walters a second glance.

The Dean—normally quite agnostic to any religion—stared up at the sky, silently praying that after one week, Julia Lynch would never again darken the door of his institution.

She was not human. She was a fiend, sent from Hell to torment those who thought themselves clever.

Julia spent the rest of the week in complete isolation. She was absent from every class and she skipped every meal. The only indication the faculty had that Julia was still alive was the sound of fingers pounding on a keyboard, desperately seeking the secrets behind the one test question that had the audacity to fool Julia Lynch.

The cooks, fearing that the girl would starve, left food outside her door every night. The plates were untouched.

After four days, Julia emerged from her room, her cheeks sunken, her eyes bruised by several sleepless nights. Amidst stares from the other students, she strutted down the hallway, her head twitching, her strict, rigid posture exuding confidence and strength. Her eyes, barely visible from beneath her long, raven-black hair, passed over the other students, as though she judged them unworthy of any form of acknowledgment.

Julia didn’t have to find Dean Walters; as she expected, he came to her as soon as she left her room. The man met Julia at the end of her hallway and led her into an empty classroom. No words were spoken as he set up the test. Even a respected educator like Dean Walters was insufficient to warrant Julia’s attention.

She was to accomplish far, far greater things.

Thirty-seven minutes later, Julia rose to her feet. She walked past Dean Walters, moving towards the door.

“Don’t you want to see your score?” the Dean asked as she was leaving.

“We both know what it is,” Julia replied. “Prepare a shuttle for me to leave within the hour. I desire to begin my Trial today.”

“Ms. Lynch, shouldn’t you get some rest?” the Dean asked, a trace of pity in his voice.

From deep beneath her steely expression, a small chuckle escaped Julia’s lips. “I’ll sleep when I’m Privileged, Dean Walters.” Julia shut the door behind her, leaving Dean Walters alone in the empty classroom. His pad beeped at him, then displayed Julia’s test score.

She’d aced every question.

Fifty-seven minutes later, Julia found herself alone on a trans-continental shuttle. The stainless-steel walls glistened beneath the Pennsylvania sunlight, the cool, glass windows peering out into the gorgeous silver streets of Lancaster.

As the shuttle hurtled through the town and across the Atlantic ocean, Julia reclined on the leather seats, imagining her future. She was to become great. A towering intellect, capable of matching wits with the greatest intelligence the world had ever known, a crown of Privilege resting atop her head.

It was everything Julia had ever wanted. And she expected no less from a world that was insufficient to truly challenge her.

The shuttle deposited Julia deep in the heart of the South African jungle. As she stepped off, Julia was met with an entire forest of metal trees, shaped so delicately that they seemed even more authentic than their wooden counterparts. The brown velvet carpet on the ground cushioned Julia’s bare feet. The man-made forest seemed a testament to the sheer power of human ingenuity, a spectacle that proved man’s dominance over nature.

Julia strode past the trees without giving them a second glance. If this was the best that man could do, Julia would have no problems surpassing it.

Julia encountered a building among the metal trees, made of a soft, shiny bronze. She opened the large, brass doors without knocking and entered a small room, barely larger than her confined dormitory. A white, fluorescent light shone dimly against the metal walls and floor, revealing a few words engraved on the wall next to an archaic wooden door.

“If you desire to become Privileged, enter through. But know that these doors open only one way. The things you learn cannot be erased. You will not escape the person you will become.”

Julia smiled. “I have no desire to,” she said aloud. She was certain that the Privileged were watching her, judging her worth.

Julia pulled the door open, and as she crossed the threshold, it swung shut with a resounding click.

On the other side of the door, Julia found herself in a larger room, filled with the noise of rushing water. Julia spotted a river running straight through the center of the metallic floor, gallons of water roaring past.

As Julia approached the river, she felt indentations beneath her feet. She bent over and read these words on the ground.

“Your first task is to cross this river. How will you do it?”

Julia smiled. “I expected more. I will cross over this river by using the bridge you will provide me with.”

The ground shimmered, and the engraved letters shifted, forming new words.

“Explain your reasoning.”

“The gap is exactly twenty feet across—too far for any human of any level of strength to jump. The river is flowing at approximately eighty miles per hour, and judging from the tones of the noise, it’s at least thirty feet deep, meaning it would be physically impossible for anyone to swim through the river.”

“You could’ve hidden some form of tool in the room, but that is far too obvious for those who passed the Privilege test. No, the only test that would pose any challenge is one where the solution is to do nothing.”

The letters faded, leaving one word behind. “Correct.”

The air around Julia shimmered, and a sheet of solid metal formed over the river. Julia strode across without hesitation. Those who ran the test would never let someone as valuable as her fall.

Julia opened the door, leading to another empty room, this one completely dark. She stepped forward, her footfalls careful and deliberate. As she expected, she felt more engraved letters beneath her toes. Julia slid her feet across the ground, her mind forming the letters into words.

“My next question. How did I form the bridge?”

Julia paused for a moment, the gears whirring in her brain. This test was much harder than the last. She was being asked to explain a technology she knew nothing about.

After pondering for almost an entire minute, Julia spoke. “The bridge was created by the transformation of the molecules in the air.”

The words shifted beneath Julia’s feet. “Explain.”

“The matter could not have been brought into the room by some form of teleportation because if instantaneous relocation of matter were even possible, it would require enormous amounts of energy and there was no sort of discharge in the air. It couldn’t have been invisible, because the sound of the river was distorted by the arrival of the bridge.”

“The shimmering in the air also supports my theory that this occurred through some form of transformation. Because matter cannot be created or destroyed, transformation is the only logical conclusion, though admittedly it could’ve been transformed from a source of energy rather than matter, the lack of discharge in the air would tend to suggest its base was in fact material.”

Julia’s voice echoed through the empty metal room for a few moments. The room abruptly filled with light, and Julia shielded her face from the illumination. When her eyes adjusted, Julia looked forward and saw letters made out of pure, white light floating in the air in front of her.

“Correct.”

Julia allowed herself a small smile. This test was nowhere near her expectations.

The door in front of her swung open, and Julia strode through to the next room. As the door slammed shut behind her, Julia didn’t spare it a second glance. No use in lingering in the shadows of what she would eventually accomplish.

Another plain, metal room greeted Julia. She stepped forward and read her newest set of carved words.

“In the year 2542, a man named Laurance Greysteel invented the technology you just witnessed, referred to as Matter Synthesis. By reallocating the molecular bands and reappropriating the protons, electrons, and neutrons, any matter can be transformed in any way.”

“Fascinating,” Julia whispered.

The words vanished, and new words appeared. “You may proceed to the next room.”

Julia frowned. For the first time in a long, long while, she didn’t understand what was happening. “Why aren’t you testing me?”

“You have misunderstood,” the words replied. “You already passed your Test. This is your Trial.”

Julia reeled back as though she’d been slapped. She’d gotten it wrong. From everything she’d been told of the Privileged, she’d anticipated some immensely difficult challenge for her Trial. Instead, she was learning—the easiest thing in the world to her.

“Forgive my misconception,” Julia said, stepping through the next door.

She entered another small room, this one filled with what seemed like impossibilities. A metal ball floating in the air with no push. A pool of some silvery substance that constantly fluctuated between solid, liquid and gas. A wall that continuously shifted between wood, metal, and soil.

“Matter Synthesis,” Julia said, nodding. She spotted more words written on the far wall and inspected them carefully.

“Three questions, Julia.

1. What is the powering mechanism for the Matter Synthesis process?

2. What was the immediate result of Laurance Greysteel’s invention of Matter Synthesis?

3. Is Matter Synthesis commonly used today?”

Julia immediately recognized the difficulty of these questions. She closed her eyes, her mind cycling through every scenario, desperately grasping at the answers she required.

It took her almost twelve minutes to arrive at a conclusion.

“The powering mechanism is human intelligence. The immediate result was that Laurance Greysteel was required to build some form of restricting mechanism, programmed to allow for external control over Matter Synthesis. And Matter Synthesis is behind most of our buildings, structures, and productions, but is not used commonly, due to the rarity of the individuals who can use it.”

The words reformed into the exact answer Julia expected.

“Explain.”

Julia smiled, wetting her lips in anticipation. “Matter Synthesis must be fueled by intelligence because you’re telling me about it. Only the brilliant are Privileged, and from what I’ve experienced here, only the Privileged can utilize Matter Synthesis.”

“The immediate result is likewise extremely obvious. Perhaps Laurance Greysteel himself was brilliant enough that he could fuel the Matter Synthesis process he invented, but due to the nature of what he accomplished, it could only have come as the result of extreme funding and logistic support. That means he was carefully watched by the global government every step of the way.”

“Matter Synthesis could rewrite the world itself, creating a slew of social and ethical dilemmas. The only way the government would allow his machine to exist is if they were certain it could be contained, most probably by some sort of inhibiting device.”

“Matter Synthesis also explains several things in modern society that as of yet have remained inexplicable to me. The proliferation of metal, the sudden boom in creative, complex architecture, the solvation of starvation at the turn of the twenty-sixth century, even the metal forest I walked through to arrive here… all are evidence of Matter Synthesis.”

“However, Privileged only account for a minuscule portion of the population. This means that Matter Synthesis can only be accessed by a select few, such as myself.”

Julia caught her breath, unable to hold back a grin. With almost no information, Julia had just given an exposition on a technology she’d discovered mere minutes ago. This is what she’d lived for: the thrill of complete intellectual superiority.

New words appeared on the metal wall. “You are correct in the reasons you first listed. You may proceed to the next room.”

Julia frowned. The words implied that there was an error somewhere in her analysis. Her mind churned, trying to discern her mistake.

The wall shifted, revealing new words. “Proceed to the next room, Julia.”

Julia shuddered and did as she was told. The person creating the text was one of the few people in the world who had the authority to command Julia Lynch.

The next room was bare, much like the last. More engraved words greeted her on the wall.

“The basis for Matter Synthesis came in the form of a language known as human binary. Much like a computer runs on a sequence of ones and zeroes, human minds run on a sequence of what are referred to as nodal connections: electric energy moving in intricate patterns that denotes a sequence of information. These electric impulses were cataloged, translated into language, and written into a computer code. This allows for a direct interface between man and technology.”

Julia blinked. In all her life, she’d never conceived that such a thing was possible. Perhaps there were still individuals in the world who could challenge her intellect.

For now, anyway.

“You may proceed to the next room,” the words added.

Julia gave a stiff nod and stepped forward, entering yet another cramped, faceless room.

“Through Matter Synthesis, the electrical impulses in the brain are harnessed to bend matter to the will of man. But these same impulses run every function in the human body.”

Julia nodded, then hesitated. The word ‘but’ stuck out as though it had been bolded. “What do you expect me to do with this information?” Julia asked.

“This is your trial,” the words replied. “You may proceed to the next room.”

Julia closed her eyes. There was something there, some dark secret engraved on the wall. The same impulses that run the technology run the human body. What did that mean?

“What happens if I refuse to move forward?” Julia asked.

“Then you will stay here,” the words replied. “There is no going back. You were warned of this.”

Julia nodded. “I am to become Privileged,” she said, clenching her teeth.

Julia walked through the door. She tried to hold it open, but it flew from her grasp, slamming shut and locking in place. For the first time, Julia turned back towards the door, only to find that it was gone. She faced solid metal walls on three sides. The way forward was the only way at all.

“Explain the significance of what was told to you in the last room,” the words said.

Julia shuddered. “You explain it to me. Nothing will be gained from my deduction.”

The words shifted. “The door will not open until you do as you’re told.”

Julia took a long, deep breath, as though something in the air might clear the cold, shivering sensation running through her heart. She knew she could find the answers.

But she was afraid of what she might discover.

“It… it means that excessive—or perhaps any—usage of Matter Synthesis causes the physical body to break down. The cells of the user begin to decay from the lack of neuro-electric energy,” Julia whispered.

“Incorrect,” the words replied.

Julia breathed a sigh of relief. It was wrong of her to assume the worst. Mankind would never have invented something that—

“It does not merely cause cellular decay, it begins to separate parts of the body, piece by piece, from the user’s mind. Matter Synthesizers lose their form, bit by bit, with the edges of their fractured existence marked by constant, excruciating pain.”

Julia choked on her breath. Her world knew no war, no hunger, no desire. Julia could scarcely remember if she’d ever felt pain. All was given and all was provided. Such cruelty could not possibly exist among humanity.

“When you are ready, you may proceed,” the words said.

“Ready for what?” Julia asked.

“To finish your Trial.”

Julia stared back at the blank wall. She saw in it everything she’d seen in the world, everyone she’d ever known. But they were just shadows. Images of what might’ve been, what would’ve been if she’d been anything other than Julia Lynch. She searched her heart for something she’d held dear, for some deep, hidden desire that could make her regret her fate. But her frenzied mind could only provide her with was a single, penetrating phrase.

“I am going to be Privileged. I am going to be Privileged. Come what may, I am going to be crowned Privileged.”

Julia grit her teeth, fists clenched in determination. She threw the door open and stepped into another room, small and cramped as the first.

In front of her sat a man, slouched in a metal chair. His features were truly horrific, as though some terrible creature had bitten off large chunks of his skin. His face was riddled with holes and bare flesh, the stench of rotten flesh permeating the room. His hair, still long and black with youth, grew out in patches, and his hands and feet were gone, only stumps remaining on the end of his limbs.

As Julia stared into the man’s eyes, she saw intelligence that far exceeded her own. And she also saw pain. Pure, indescribable pain.

Without any movement from the man, words of light appeared in the air. “You will be fitted with a Matter Synthesis device with a clamp. It will cause the degradation I currently experience. Your Matter Synthesis will be used to continue sustaining the world.”

Julia closed her eyes, her heart inflamed with pure, unadulterated rage. “You lied,” she said through her teeth.

The man stared at her, his grey eyes twitching in the dim light. New words appeared in the air.

“Explain.”

“The Privileged are promised a life of prosperity. They’re promised safety, and respect, and greatness. I did everything I could to become Privileged, and you’re killing me for it!”

A single huff of air escaped the man’s lips, almost like a chuckle. “You have misunderstood,” the words said. “The Privileged ones are not those who pass the Test. They are the ones who fail it, or better yet, those who never take the Test in the first place. You, Julia Lynch, will never be Privileged.”

The words slammed into Julia, and she staggered under their weight. All her life, everything she’d ever worked for… And she was insufficient. Too intelligent to be Privileged, too blind to comprehend what it really meant.

The chair turned and carried the man towards the end of the room. A new door appeared in the metal and swung open.

“Wait!” Julia called, her voice breaking. The man continued on his way.

“Which is it?!” Julia bellowed, her voice screeching through the cold, metal room. The man turned and spared Julia a second glance.

“‘You will be fitted with a Matter Synthesis device with a clamp,’” Julia quoted. “‘It will cause the degradation’. So which causes it, the Matter Synthesis device, or the clamp that inhibits it?”

The man stared into Julia’s eyes, then turned his back on her. “Tell me!” Julia screamed. “What’s going to kill me?!”

The man opened his mouth and spoke, his voice as weak and raspy as a dying man’s last breath. “You figure it out. You seem like a smart child.”