Whisper (Whisper #1)(35)

“Now,” Falon goes on, “during the time the second round of women were given the drug and slowly began to fall pregnant, the original group of surviving children entered their pubescent years. That’s when strange things began to occur.”

Goose bumps rise on my skin as I hang on to his every word.

“Things started … happening. Unexpected things. Unnatural things. Tests showed that there was something neurologically abnormal about the children whose mothers had been medicated pre-pregnancy. During puberty, that abnormality in those children … blossomed, so to speak. Usually out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever.”

An echo of my own voice tries to float across my mind, a whisper of a memory, a vile scream of unforgettable words. But I refuse to acknowledge it, and I shove it away.

“It was as if a switch flicked in their minds, and suddenly they were able to Speak things into existence. Words to make, words to break.”

Falon’s eyes are glazed; he’s looking at me, but I don’t think he’s really seeing me right now. Wherever he is, it’s far away. At least until he shakes his head.

“As soon as the scientists began to realize what was happening with the first-round teenagers, they canceled the drug testing — forever this time. But it was too late to un-medicate the women participating in the second round of trials. There was nothing the scientists could do but wait and watch and see if the changes to the drug would make any difference with the next group of children. Meanwhile, the first teenagers were rounded up by a secret branch of the government and sequestered into highly classified military-run laboratories for testing. And so Lengard was born.”

Finally, some answers. But now I have even more questions. Was my mother a part of this drug trial? Is that why I am … what I am? Did anyone tell her what the medication would eventually do to me? Did she know what I would become?

I wish I could ask her.

Falon’s features tighten, and he turns from me toward the far side of the room, unseeing again.

“The tests those original teenagers underwent were … unpleasant. The government was dealing with a branch of science still not understood today, power that could only be described as supernatural. Because of that, some of the tests were unconventional. Unethical, even. But those teenagers were seen as a threat to the rest of the world, and the government needed to make sure they wouldn’t become terrorists who could call forth violence or hatred by throwing a scant number of syllables into the wind.”

If I didn’t know that what he said was possible, I’d scoff and think he was exaggerating. But I could easily be one of those terrorists. All I would have to do is open my mouth.

“The tests they used were perhaps too severe at times, since not all of the teenagers made it out unscathed,” Falon continues. “Some of them died. Some killed themselves. A handful escaped, only to be taken down on the outside. But those who remained and made it through the testing were eventually seen as warriors, not terrorists. Warriors capable of wielding words as weapons.”

Is that what the program is? The government’s mission to train some kind of … super soldier? Someone who would only need to open his or her mouth to stop a war? Or to start one?

Is that what they expect me to “commit” to?

“The testing changed then,” Falon says. “It became less about evaluating the adolescents and more about nurturing them. They were encouraged to find their limits, to discover the scope of their strengths and weaknesses. The kids were put through what was termed the ‘Genesis Project’ and trained to become the government’s secret weapons. Their unique abilities would be used for the greater good.”

Falon shakes his head again, as if he struggles to believe his own words. I have no such trouble, since I know what I just saw. Those others — the Speakers in the next room — they’ve all been through the same as me. And despite my trepidation, despite my resentment at being kept in the dark, I’m also filled with relief. I’ve kept myself isolated for years, but now … now I am one of many.

“Time passed,” Falon says, drawing my eyes back to him. “The teenagers continued their Genesis training and grew into adulthood. Most of their time was spent learning how to control their abilities — and to this day they continue to stretch their self-discipline and fine-tune their talents, as you saw for yourself just a few minutes ago.” He nods toward the training room.

“As the years progressed, it became clear that the effects of Xanaphan were the same in the second round of children as the first,” Falon goes on, telling me something I now already know. “But since the records were destroyed when the experiment failed, it’s impossible to keep tabs on all the families. We can only wait and watch for any supernatural events to unfold. When that happens, we send out Genesis agents to collect the new Speakers and bring them here to train in what we have termed the ‘Exodus Project.’ It’s the Genesis do-over — the way it should have been done the first time. The Exodus teens are protected from the extreme tests the Genesis Speakers had to suffer through. They just have to train, to develop control and refine their skills. And we’re finding that they’re much stronger, much more resilient than their senior counterparts. It’s fascinating.”

There are many words to describe what I have been through thanks to this Xanaphan drug. Fascinating is not one of them.