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the rich raise more capital for themselves on the backs of the
hard-working lower classes.   
    Some sponsors choose to back
intellectually inferior students destined to become tier three doctors or even
food producers, but this arrangement is entirely different. These patrons are
primarily slimy pharmaceutical dealers controlling the black market trade in
unlicensed narcotics. They offer up drugs to enhance performance with an empty
promise that the supplements will enable poor students to become Ascenders.
Instead, these struggling individuals become addicted to the provisioned
pharmaceuticals and are forced to trade all of their measly earnings for their
next ration. Many are even forced to prostitute their services in exchange for
a handful of pills, thus the dealers receive complementary medical procedures
that allow them to operate beneath the regulations of the state that would
otherwise deny medical treatment to these corrupt criminals. Similarly, these
bottom-feeders get fresh produce from addicted farmers thus circumventing the
unbalanced distribution based on the social hierarchy.
    “How much did she ask?”
    “Twenty percent until I repay a 50,000
dollar debt.”
    My mental calculations inform me that it
will take Tate about twenty years to accommodate this sum as a tier two doctor.
    “That’s a lot, Tate.”
    “Yeah, but it could have been worse. And
with my SMART’s coming up, I figured I needed to.” A heavy silence falls
between us, and each of us waits anxiously for the other to chime in. I know I
must be the one to shatter the tension.
    “All right,” I
mumble”
    “You’ll spin with me?” A palpable relief
courses through Tate’s body, and despite my reservations I know I must
accompany my companion into this new frontier. I nod grimly, but with certainty.
    “Thank you,” Tate murmurs as he leans
forward and softly presses his lips to my forehead. A warmth radiates through
me from this point of contact all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. I
hold out my pale palm, so childlike in comparison to Tate’s broad hand, as he
deliberately places a bright orange capsule on it and tenderly folds back my
fingers to secure it.
    “On the count of three,” he nervously
commands. “One… two… three.”
    I raise my hand to my mouth and let its
contents slide down the long track of my throat, feeling it settle in my gut.
    “See you on the other side,” Tate quips
with a quick wink as we both prepare for the drug to set in.  

Chapter 5

 
    My entire body is humming. My heart has
become a frantic bird, fluttering with the swift grace of flapping wings. My
breathing has accelerated to keep up with this erratic drumming. My limbs twitch,
poised to pounce into action at a moment’s notice.
    I can no longer remain still, and launch
myself from my makeshift seat. Examining my internal state, I can feel every
sense heightened and quickened to an alarming pace. The staccato thrumming of my
heartbeat is a metronome: the frenzied soundtrack to my self-exploration.
    Remembering my companion, I turn to face
Tate and am absorbed in his own deliberate self-evaluation. He glances up from
examining his restless fingers, and meets my eyes with pupils, wide from the
excess energy coursing through his veins. His dilated nostrils are animated by
constant short intakes of air as his system struggles to find equilibrium in
this new electrified state.
    I reach out for him, and in a flurry of
movement am scooped up in his arms. He twirls me round as if I were no more
than a ragdoll. I laugh in delight, and as he places me back on firm ground, I
snatch his dangling hand.
    “Race you home!” I challenge.
    Before he has a chance to respond, I drop
his warm hand as if it were a writhing snake baring venomous fangs and sprint
in the direction of our dormitory. I can hear him thrashing through the woods
behind me, and soon he passes by.
    He reaches the glass doors mere minutes
before I do, barricading them