Amygdala by Harper J. Cole

Author:Harper J. Cole [Cole, Harper J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-11T22:00:00+00:00

It was noisy in the studio. At least, that was how it seemed to Gypsy.

She hadn’t been allowed to bring her noise-cancelling headphones with her, as no technology was permitted during the Zakazashi – even their hitherto ubiquitous wristbands had been disallowed. Without the headphones, Gypsy’s sensitive ears were naked and unprotected, leaving her vulnerable to the high-pitched noises which had always been a source of special distress for her.

Unfortunately, the voices of several of her crewmates were on the high end of the spectrum. Their occasional bursts of laughter particularly set her on edge, in part because she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was the one being laughed at.

Perhaps that belief wasn’t entirely irrational. Gypsy was pretty sure she’d noticed one or two eye rolls from the rest of the team when they’d seen her outfit. Sandra Rivers had politely asked whether a skirt and slippers were appropriate attire for this adventure. When the mathematician had said, truthfully, that it was the only type of outfit she had, Rivers had frowned but made no further comment. Still, the clothes stood out sharply against the sensible attire of her companions. Other than the medallion her mother had on a chain about her neck, and a crucifix that Kiaya Ferguson wore the same way, it was all sweaters and trousers, hair tied back where it might be long enough to cause a distraction. She felt like a cartoon character who’d wandered into the real world.

Why won’t they just let us get going, Gypsy thought impatiently. They’d been in the deserted studio for half an hour at least, Nomi and the captain having left them shortly after their arrival to meet a couple of senior Gataran ministers. The room was large and ovoid, with grand and elaborate double doors at one end – doubtless the entrance to the labyrinth – and rows of empty seats at the other. Painted portraits of past champions hung from the walls.

The seats would remain empty. Usually an audience would be here to see off each new team, but Nomi had explained that there’d be doing without spectators due to a scheduling clash. They’d still have plenty of eyes on them, however; pictures would be going out live to the whole planet.

Ambient music drifted through the studio; from the sound, Gypsy guessed that it was made by an instrument somewhat akin to a violin. Between that and the excited talk of the other women, she was nearing sensory overload. She carried a backpack, as did her teammates; these were for food and water, provided by their hosts. The straps chafed at her neck, compounding her misery, and it wasn’t even the right colour. She was wearing a green backpack on a yellow day.

That could only bring bad luck.

It would be nice to get out of this room and perform a de-stressing ritual or two, but she was afraid to wander off. She took a step closer to her mother and plugged both her ears with her fingers.

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