A few days before graduation, my best friend of 16 years killed himself.
Graduation was less than a week away. Unlock day followed immediately after. For our entire lives, we had been told that was when everything would make sense. When the chip's limiter would be adjusted, our abilities would finally manifest in a controlled, measurable way, and we would be told what we were meant to do.
Maybe that's why I didn't understand his decision. I didn't get it at all. Our school was visited by the American Hero Alliance, or AHA for short, right before spring break of senior year. The representatives had selected a few of the students they deemed promising for future hero contracts, and Cole was one of the lucky candidates. He got to be near and work alongside some of the top Super elites in the entire world for the whole of break while the rest of us busted our asses studying or working.
I hadn't heard from him at all in these weeks. On the first day back, was when we would see each other again. Everything seemed fine enough. There were no problems with anybody, and nothing unusual Cole had said or done. Matter fact, anytime I asked about his stay with AHA, he would brush it off, saying things like, "Don't worry, man! You'll find out for yourself soon enough."
It was a little annoying to think Cole was keeping things from me now that he was one of the lucky chosen. I mean, I can't blame him. He was probably under lock and key. Plus, he didn't know of my plans for the greater future of the world, so even though the information he had would have been helpful, I respected his boundaries and didn't push the matter.
Now I'm thinking maybe I should have.
The same thing happened during the winter break, except this time, when Cole returned from his expedition, he looked noticeably skinnier and aggravated. He would snap at anyone and everything. He was constantly on edge and jumpy. None of the other chosen were like that at all. They all came back having nothing but positive things to say, while Cole was becoming unlike himself as the seconds passed.
I wasn't one to talk much, so he and I never got into qualms in this period. To be honest, in our relationship, he was the chatterbox who couldn't stay quiet, so most of our hangouts then became silent hours. I was unsure how to deal with him, nor did I really care to. Yes, he was a friend, but he didn't care to tell me anything either.
On one of these days, when we had silent hours on our way back home, Cole finally spoke to ask me a question.
"Say...back in elementary. Do you remember when we were told that one story of the kid and the city?"
"Yes?"
I knew which story he was talking about. It was "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" by Ursula K. Le Guin. A story about a happy world whose entire happiness was tied to the misery and torture of a young child.
"Did you think walking away was the right thing to do?" Cole asked me.
This was the first time in a long time he was having a coherent conversation with anyone, so I tried my best to keep it going.
"To be honest, I think I would just trade places with the child myself. I would try my hardest to find a way to at least. And you?"
"..."
'...Alright, back to silence, I guess?'
And then, the very next day, he threw himself off the clock tower! Just like that. I didn't get it at all. We were so close to graduation. So close to our dreams and unlocking our powers.
This morning, I went up to the rooftop alone. It was blocked off, but I knew my way around the locked doors. Amazing what a single piece of metal can do. The wind was stronger than I expected, pressing against my clothes and tugging at my hair. From up there, the ground didn't look as distant as I thought it would. I could see the district building from there. Everything looked so normal.
'This was your view, huh? You saw all this and still decided to jump? Why?'
My implant hummed faintly near my temple, monitoring stress levels. A subtle warmth spread across the right side of my head as it adjusted my neurochemistry.
I stepped closer to the edge and looked down.
For a brief moment, I understood him.... sort of?
'Maybe he just got tired of waiting. But isn't that more of a reason to keep going? To finally GET what you are waiting for?'
Seemed I didn't understand him at all to the end. What was his issue? AHA made a mistake. It should have been me they chose. I could've handled it. I could've done better. I would never cowardly run like that.
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Graduation arrived with theatrical precision. The stadium was filled with white banners and polished metal structures, all gleaming under artificial lights. Suspended above the stage was the insignia of the school and AHA.
"A moment of silence for our missing student. He was a ray of shining light. A promising young man taken from us too soon."
I listened to the unending speech from the school dean. She stood at the podium, a picture of Cole behind her as it was his turn to be called for his diploma. I had gotten mine before him as my last name started with a L, while his R.
Leto Lucian.
Cole Reed.
Everybody quieted in the stadium as most looked down to honour Cole's memory. I did too. This was probably the last time I was going to hear or think about him after this. The only place we shared most of our time was now being left behind.
By both of us. He had already left me behind. After I unlocked my powers, I would never return to this slum of a city again.
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My parents were waiting near the front barrier. My mother held a bouquet of white lilies. My father wore his old charcoal suit, the one he only wore for special occasions cause he believed it gave him good luck. It had a connection to his work or something. Never really paid attention to the reasoning, but he's a blue-collar, manual labor guy. They're the type of people that need this kinda thing the most.
My mother pressed the flowers into my hands.
"You made it," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Unlock day is tomorrow."
"As if he wouldn't," my father added with a small laugh. "You've always been steady, Leto. Patient."
That word again. Patient this, patient that. Truth is, I'm the least patient person in the world. I just have grit and the tenacity to see my goals through.
"Cole didn't make it," I said before I could stop myself.
The air shifted slightly. My mother's expression faltered, but she recovered quickly.
"That was tragic," she said. "Some kids struggle with the whole...eh...ya know."
"He just needed to tough it out," I replied.
I was looking down at the lilies in my hand. They kind of looked like his blonde, patchy yellow hair. The more I looked at them, the more I felt a lump form in my throat.
'Goddammit. Not right now. Hold it.'
I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe it was the relief and realization that I had finally made it to graduation that was making me emotional. We should have been there together.
"He should have toughed it out..." I repeated in a weaker, quieter voice.
My parents stood before me, unsure how to react. We were pretty much like strangers to each other at this point. I left home at 13 to attend this high school, living in a cheap apartment by myself as my parents lived in a whole other country. I had nobody except for Cole.
My mom pulled me into a hug.
"I'm telling you it's those damn chips they've put in your brains!" My father sighed in frustration. "I wouldn't be surprised if they whispered things in his mind."
The chip. A small piece of tech that is embedded into every child's mind, Post-097. Only the generation after this time period are the ones able to manifest superpowers. Being born in 20007, I am a third-generation manifester. It is pretty much used to contain and keep our powers turned off so that we may only use them after the unlocking. And even then, we need to go through "Stages of Ascension" via the AHA's Department of Containment.
It's all just a big show of control. The control the old geezers feign over us, younger people in fear, we might fight back. Whatever, I'm not really into the politics aspect of all this anyway.
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The next morning, I cleaned up my entire apartment and checked the basement one last time. After I was sure everything was prepared and ready, I closed the hatchet door and put a heavy rug over my wooden floors. There was a duffel bag waiting for me at the door, and as I was putting on my sneakers, I caught a glimpse of myself in the window's glass.
Deep brown hair, black glasses, and soft features, aside from my eyes. They were sharp, framed by my low eyebrows. Average looking aside from my overbite that seriously weakened my jawline. I was in a grey tracksuit to keep things simple. They instructed us to keep it minimal in clothing and packaging anyway.
Finally, I grabbed my bag, opened the door, and walked out as the cold, dewy early morning air hit my face.
'It's time.'