The Lesser One Chapter Two:

Judge

“Police are still questioning what happened to the party that entered the dungeon that appeared on Fifth Street just this past Sunday …”

I eat breakfast as the news plays behind me. My mother is feeding my baby brother with that face that mom’s make when they are, well, feeding babies. My father is standing in the kitchen, juggling cooking and reading the newspaper.

“So, I didn’t get to ask you last night,” says my mother, turning away from the baby. “How did your awakening go?”

“It went, well, okay,” I say.

“Did you get your job assignment?”

“I was assigned to be an adventurer,” I say.

My mother appears a little bit taken aback, but she hides it well. “You must have a powerful companion spirit, then,” she says.

I shake my head. “Blue Anima,” I say. “I don’t think people have high hopes for me.”

“Adventuring is a good job,” says my father. “As long as you get seated with a well-equipped guild, the job is less dangerous than a cop. Definitely less dangerous than being a pizza driver.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ll be seated with a powerful guild.”

“And why is that?” says my father, looking up from his newspaper.

“Blue Anima is a really weak spirit. I was only assigned to be an adventurer because they need people.”

“I don’t know much about adventurers,” says my mom. “But I know you like to watch them on TV.”

“It’s an obsession,” adds my father.

I shake my head. “I won’t be on TV. Never. My spirit is weak and I’ll probably be placed with a lesser-known guild.” I pause. “I have my power assessment today at two.”

My mother gives the baby another spoonful of baby food. “And do you need a ride?”

“I can take the subway,” I say.

My mother nods. “Good. It’s good to be an independent young man. I have high hopes for you.”

“Well, you’re my mom,” I say.

My mother frowns at me. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

I turn away. “I’ll be going now.”

“You haven’t had eggs yet!” says my father, still standing at the stove.

“I’m not hungry,” I say. “Plus, I have to get there early and tell my teachers what’s going on.”

“Are you going to have to go to a special school?” asks my mom, as I get ready to leave.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I may not even continue going to school.”

“They have to educate you,” says my mother. “Not having a high school education is a serious impediment in this world.”

“I’m sure they’ll do something,” I say, as I put on my backpack.

I check that all my homework is there before heading for the door.

“Tell me how it goes!” says my mother, as I leave.

Once out of the apartment building, I head towards the subway station. School is just three stops down.  While riding the subway I try looking at people beside me and figuring out if they have companion spirits, and if they do, what they are. It’s tough—there are no obvious signs.

The headline on the newspaper of the person sitting across from me reads: Jane Bossman Acquires Thousand-Year Spirit!

I feel a little bit of pride at that. I’ve been following Jane Bossman for a while now. I even have one of her limited-edition dungeon cards. It’s not signed. If it was it would be worth thousands.

I’m happy that she has finally gotten what she has deserved. A thousand-year circle!

Feeling a little giddy about the whole affair, I get off at the stop closest to my school.

Newman Academy. A school that appears more like a prison than an institute of education. Metal detectors, barbed wire, the works.

Most of that is simple inner-city design. I’m pretty sure, though, that at least a bit of the fortress-like atmosphere is to protect the students in the case of a portal break.

But this is New York. I don’t think that will be happening any time soon!

I enter the school building. The halls are not that crowded—it’s early—but I try my best to stay low. There are the people who come to school kings, and there are the people who come to school paupers. I am one of the latter. I had been hoping that my awakening would change my status, but with a weak spirit like Blue Anima, I doubt I’ll be able to rise up the ranks.

The least I can do is try to step out of the target of the Spirit Wielders club.

Aaron Jammie appears, walking around a corner. I avert my gaze.

It doesn’t work. Aaron approaches me with his usual intense swagger. “I heard you had your awakening this past Sunday,” he says, while pushing me up against the lockers. “You probably got some stupid spirit, like a spoon or an anima or something like that.”

“Yeah …” I say.

Aaron’s face displays an inordinate amount of pleasure. “Ha!” He says. “So you’re still weak, even after getting a spirit.”

I turn my face away. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” says Aaron. “What do you have to be sorry about?” He grins. “Of course, I would apologize too, if I were as weak as you.” He grips my chin. “Come to the alley after school. If you don’t, you know what’s coming to you.”

“But I have my assessment at two—”

“Doesn’t matter. You aren’t going to score high enough to earn a place on the draft.”

I don’t know what to do now. Aaron is bigger, stronger, and has a valuable companion spirit. A pure elemental. Copper. With it, he can do things like conduct electricity, create heat, and form copper with his mind. I have no chance standing up against him—not because of the physical power of his spirit, but because of his sponsor. Anyone who goes against him will feel the wrath of the “Men in Black.” Families ruined, houses foreclosed on, jobs lost with no warning.

“Okay …” I say. I pick the easiest route out. I’m sure the Association will understand why I don’t show up for the assessment.

It’s not like I’ll end up with a high score, after all.

The whole of the school day, I am dreading the last bell at one-thirty. When the final bell rings, I grab my backpack, walk into the hall, and start heading to the alleyway. I plan on telling my teachers as little as possible right before heading out.

In the middle of the hall, I catch sight of Judge Erin. He approaches me, radiating an aura of power. I can almost see the Psions flowing off of his skin.

He nods at me, waving for me to come. I freeze. What now?

“Is there a problem?” says Erin.

I shake my head. “No. I just have something to do.”

Judge Erin narrows his eyes. “What is more important than taking an assessment test? You realize that this is a high-priority assignment, right? You could face legal consequences if you don’t cooperate.”

“No, it’s not that,” I say. “I want to go, but …”

“Is it something with family?” says Erin.

I shake my head. “No …”

“Then what is it?” says Erin.

I turn away. “I can’t go. Not today.”

“Who’s this meathead?” says Aaron, from behind me.

I spin around. “Um, no one, um—”

Judge Erin cuts me off. “Excuse me. This is a conversation between me and this young man here.”

“Eh?” says Aaron, with a nasty grin. “You’re his grandpa or something?”

A flash of something dangerous crosses Judge Erin’s face. “I’m giving you a chance to apologize,” he says. “I’ll be the adult here, but only if you give me the chance.”

“Hah!” says Aaron. “I can have my sponsor beat the crap out of you if I wanted. No teacher here can oppose me. Not with my spirit!”

“You’re not an adventurer, are you?” says Judge Erin. “Who awakened you?”

Aaron pauses, apparently uncertain. “Judge Westley,” he says.

“Ah, Westley. I thought I trusted his judgement.” He smiles ever so slightly. “Looks like I’m going to have to give him a talk next chance I get.”

Aaron thinks for a moment. I can see it in his eyes. Then he grins. “If you don’t move out of the way so I can pummel this kid here, I’ll get my sponsor to ruin your life.”

“But you can’t do anything physical with your spirit, can you?” said Erin. “Otherwise you would be appointed as an adventurer.”

I cringe. That was Aaron’s soft spot.

“And what?” says Aaron, his face twisted with rage. “You’re saying this beansprout is an adventurer? With an Anima spirit?”

Erin nods. “I made the decision. I’m sure Wesley would have made you an adventurer had he detected the slightest bit of potential in you.” His lips curl up. “As it stands, I doubt you are suitable to whatever job assignment you were given.” He pauses. “And I would like to let you know that I am, as it stands, the VP of public relations for SMART Industries.”

Aaron’s face went white. “SMART …”

“Yes, SMART Industries,” says Erin. He does not appear smug—only a little bit saddened. “I did not realize that a pinprick like you had gotten through our rather comprehensive personality screening procedure. Ah, perhaps it is time to do a little weeding out of corruption.” He pauses. “You remind me of someone. Are you, in fact, the son of Ryan Simmons?”

“He’s my uncle,” says Aaron. “He’s more powerful than you are! He can get you fired!”

It is clear that Aaron is grasping for straws here.

Erin nods, sagely. “I see. Well, I’m going to have to be doing a lot of paperwork in the near future. As it stands, however, I will not tolerate anyone interfering with the government business of acquiring adventurers. They are our lifeblood, and anyone who stands in the way of the system will be pushed aside.”

The principal, Mr. Freedman, approaches cautiously from down the hall.

“Excuse me, sir, do you have a visitor’s pass?” He says.

Erin flashes his official Adventurer’s Association badge. “I don’t need one. I want you to deal with this student here. You can get rid of him, give him detention for the rest of his career, expel him, whatever.”

The principal looks ghostly pale. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that with …”

“With his sponsor, I know,” says Erin. “I’ll put it in writing as soon as possible, but from this point forward SMART Industries will no longer consider this student to be a part of our Talent Acquisition Program.”

The principal looks at Aaron, worriedly. “But, sir, I must ask you what this student has done to offend you.”

“You don’t need to be told. With behavior this obvious my only conclusion is that you have been ignoring it. Shall I remind you that SMART Industries is a major donor to this school, both financially and politically?”

The principal bobs his head up and down. “Yes, sir, yes, sir,” he says. Then he turns to Aaron. “Mr. Simmons, come with me.”

Aaron’s face is both scared white and flushed red with anger. I won’t be escaping his wrath if, or when, he gets back to school.

Judge Erin seems to grasp what I am thinking. He smiles at me. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’re going to be transferred to a specialized school after your draft selection. You probably won’t ever see this place again after today.” He pauses. “That is, unless you go to your high school reunion.” He smiles. “But you don’t strike me as the type to remember high school fondly.”

I shake my head. Relief is falling over me like a waterfall. “Are we going to the Association now?” I say.

Judge Erin looks at his watch. “We will be a bit late, but I can explain the situation to the assessors.”

“Am I the only one being tested today?” I say.

Judge Erin nods. “You have probably not heard this before, but adventurers are a rare breed. Even here in the city of New York, with its millions of people, we only get perhaps ten adventurer-qualified awakenings a month.”

“I heard,” I say.

Judge Erin looks genuinely surprised. He turns to me. “Who did you hear this from?”

“A bartender who works at a small bar a block away from the Association Building.”

Judge Erin chuckles. “And I assume Jim wanted you to meet Glen.”

I open my eyes wide. “How did you know that?”

Judge Erin smiles knowingly. “You don’t have to worry about that. Just know that, among possible mentors, Glen is a strange and, perhaps, thoughtless choice.”

“I didn’t say anything about mentors,” I say.

Judge Erin claps me on the back. “I can’t know what fate has in store for you, but know that finding the right mentor can greatly affect your growth and your future. Anyone who recommends you talk to Glen would have that goal in mind, most likely.”

I nod eagerly. “Okay.” I follow Erin through the streets and to the subway station, where we ride the subway for a couple of stops and get off near the Association Building. When we enter the building, a pair of black-suited men approach me. The one on the right nods.

“Sorry for being late,” says Judge Erin. “We had a little trouble getting him out of school.”

The man nods again. “Dr. Irr is waiting.” He turns around and begins walking to the elevators.

Judge Erin gives me a little push. “Though I don’t have much to expect about your power and potential, I am rooting for you. Wherever you end up, if you want someone to help, just contact me.” He pauses, rooting around in his jacket. After a moment he pulls out a little business card.

The men in black pause. I take it. The card radiates Psion particles, converging to show a little animation of a rearing wolverine. I place it in my pocket.

Following the men in black into the elevator, I watch Judge Erin as the doors close. He nods understandingly one last time.