The Infinite Pill

By Everett Newell

Terin Salek is determined, at odds with the world around him, and completely unaware that he is being observed. The only thing he knows is that something unusual has been happening to him ever since he met Judan, the son of the worlds most powerful woman. Judan seems to know more about him than he knows about himself. Just as Judan prompts him to question the world around him, Terin becomes embroiled in yet another violent fight at schoolwith no idea that his best friend, Athean, has just died, the victim of a tragic accident.

With life rapidly crumbling around him, he has no one to turn to but Judan, who has made it his mission to teach Terin lessons intended to help him through future challenges. As Judan encourages Terin to examine his past and present choices, Terin secretly wonders why Judan is so interested in himunaware that a remarkable physical transformation will soon cause Judan to weaken and Terin to sacrifice more than he ever imagined.

The Infinite Pill weaves the intricate tale of a boys dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it is too late for both him and the world around him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475997606

Everett Newell

Everett Newell is a classically trained character animator who specializes in 2D and 3D digital animation. He currently works as a senior animator at Nelvana Animation. He earned a diploma in classical animation from Alqonquin College and a diploma in 3D digital animation from Sheridan College. Everett has produced three short films and developed series pitches for children’s television. He currently lives in Canada.

Book preview

1

I ’ve made some bad decisions. Some have passed without notice; others have attracted consequences. One bad decision that comes to mind happened on a night in the middle of winter. As usual, I found myself underdressed with my shoulders pressed up to my ears and my hands buried deep inside my pockets. As I walked north, the temperature became a numb backdrop to the churning acid in my stomach. I felt a familiar anxiety, which took the form of nervous hunger. I had eight len in my pocket; it would be just enough to take the edge off.

I was supposed to meet Athean in a park near Glen Street. Conveniently, Khalib’s was right along the way. It was a small sandwich shop, set in a basement between two commercial nightclubs. It was the only place I knew that put a meal in your hand for under five len.

I needed ten minutes. I had to calm myself, eat, and relax. My thoughts needed to escape their obsessions, but I was preoccupied by my obligation to perform. At least, that’s what it felt like. Every outing demanded some kind of aggressive display from me, a story worth telling. I was expected to ignite these events, but it never felt right. It never felt like the first time. My anger had since turned to fear.

These expectations made me feel helpless. I feared the shame of losing a battle, yet worse was the shame of not fighting at all. I had to remind Athean why I mattered, but fighting for popularity made me desperate and weak. I had become a scavenger trapped in a cycle of anxiety, and I didn’t know how to get out.

I walked down the concrete steps to the shop and opened the glass door. I noticed a CIN sticker in the front window. It hadn’t been there before.

The smell of roasted meats made my mouth water. The attendant sat in a shelter of newspaper, his arms pressed heavily on the counter. The door closed behind me, and he looked up from his reading. There was something innocent and juvenile in his face—something youthful. He was a man past his prime, in his late forties perhaps, but a glimmer in his eye reflected something mischievous. It was not difficult to imagine how he might have appeared as a child. He noticed me staring. I cleared my throat and ordered.

All dressed? he asked.

Please.

He turned to face the grill and shaved a portion of the meat.

I like that sticker in the entrance, I said.

He turned and stared at me for a second.

Yeah, you noticed that?

New, isn’t it?

It’s new, but I wouldn’t worry about it. Doesn’t really mean much, he replied.

Doesn’t that mean they own this place?

It doesn’t matter who owns it. I make the food and the money. Business stays the same; nothing really changes in the end.

How does that work?

They put money in my pocket—more than I can refuse. All I got to do is use their products, wear their uniforms … You know, they want to clean shit up a little, health standards, bullshit. I let them do it, means more business, nothing else changes. I make more money, but the stock is managed by someone else. What would you do?

I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.

You got no choice, kid. He handed me the sandwich. You grow up and you realize you can’t save the world, you know what I mean? So you just gotta break a piece off for yourself.

I gave him the cash.

Thanks.

I had a bad habit of thanking and apologizing too much—by-products of anxiety. I sat down and tore the wrapping off the end of the package. The sauce reeked of vinegar and pickled vegetables. I ate it quickly—I was supposed to be there in four minutes. There were no distractions while eating. All my attention was focused on the sensation of consumption. I finished the sandwich with a tall glass of water. I coughed once. I usually coughed after a large meal. I wiped my mouth and began walking to the park.

Athean would be with his cheerleaders, and undoubtedly they would be looking for a show. He had mentioned that Damon would be with him, and that usually meant two or three extra people. I didn’t like Damon or the people he knew. Damon lacked loyalty and moderation, which meant he was prepared to attack anyone for his own amusement. His ritual usually involved exploiting isolated and weak people. I felt like a hypocrite because on some level I enjoyed what we did; I just didn’t know why.

Athean was a little easier to understand. He used us to demonstrate dominance—his dominance. This would bolster him. Somehow he always got the credit for what other people did. Sometimes you don’t want that.

I couldn’t understand why girls found anything we did interesting. The girls liked Athean and the others, but they totally avoided me. I couldn’t say a thing without getting torn apart. No matter how hard I tried, I was wrong and I hated it. Karra was the worst one. She knew exactly how to use my pride against me, and she never missed an opportunity.

I arrived at the park and found more people than expected. Maybe a dozen unknown faces. They were separated into three parties huddled around a wooden table. Athean and Damon sat together, insulated by their constituents. I counted eleven boys and four girls. I could see Karra lingering on the outskirts of the group. She smoked a cigarette and looked disinterested. She always seemed too distant … so reluctant.

I walked to the table, and the crowd opened up. I tuned out the surrounding conversation and focused on Athean. I needed to hear his voice. I needed direction.

Athean and Damon greeted me casually.

This is a big crowd … I see a lot of new faces.

Damon nodded but didn’t make eye contact. He was gazing at something in the west end of the park.

A few boys made a trip over from Cleaver.

Thought you said Cleaver was a write-off? I asked.

Yeah, these guys are okay, said Damon. Met them last night. They fucked up this coupe right in front of us, so we jumped in. Shit was crazy. Anyway they rolled with us—we did some questionable shit. He laughed. They’re all right. You’ll like them.

Terin, Athean broke in.

I nodded.

We have an opportunity this evening. You interested in an operation?

What are the details?

Aden met some kids selling dime bags. There are three of them. He says they’re at the table beside Luffer’s tree.

Yeah … and?

Three bikes, three backpacks, probably some money and whatever they got left of their sack.

What are you thinking? I asked.

Some kind of collection, replied Athean.

These guys are older, Damon broke in.

How much older? I asked.

Two or three years, but we can probably keep things calm. We’ve got sixteen people sitting here. They won’t make a move.

You see us taking all their shit without them making a move?

Athean blinked.

Not possible, I said.

Why not?

Because if sixteen kids half our size tried to pull that on the three of us, we’d throw down and take most of them out. We might get our asses kicked, but we’d make them work for it. You don’t think these guys will do the same?

Damon reached into his pocket and pulled out a canister.

What’s that? I asked.

Paint stripper.

He pressed the nozzle on top of the canister and a chemical mist shot out. Athean revealed a second canister from his pocket.

If they test us, we’ll blind them, said Damon.

How many canisters are there?

Five altogether.

You should put those away, a girl called from across the table. You’re going to hurt someone.

Damon’s eyes shot daggers, but his mouth stayed closed.

Do you want one? he asked me.

No, I don’t. I turned to Athean. It’s going to be difficult. We can’t just walk up and take their shit.

Athean didn’t react.

If I take Damon and one other guy, we can meet these boys and act like we want to buy something—not too much. I’ll ask to look at it before I pay, which means we can’t make them nervous. The rest of the group stays out of sight.

Okay. But they’ve already seen some of us.

How many of you did they see? I asked.

Four or five—just me and the girls.

Should be fine. Provided they trust us enough, I’ll walk away with a few dime bags right in front of them. If they choose to follow, you guys offer backup. Hopefully it won’t get that far.

Damon picked one of the larger guys from his group, and we began westward. The three boys were sitting, as described, in a cloud of smoke. They were bigger than I expected. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my head. There was no way the three of us could take them. They knew it too. We didn’t make them nervous. They gladly put four bags in my hand, and as I walked away they called my bluff. I could hear them shouting at me from behind. I didn’t respond. Instead I continued to walk towards the others. I kept my fists tight. I reached the group and stopped. Everyone was sitting down. I felt a layer of security peel away from my skin, and I felt exposed. The shouts drew closer, but no one moved. For a moment I felt my balance shift. I tipped over a cliff and felt myself falling completely alone. The older boys approached the group. They demanded the money or their product. It didn’t seem that unreasonable. I tried to stall.

You’re outnumbered, I said. Not much room to make demands. You’d better walk out of here.

I’m going to break you in front of your friends unless I see something good come out of that pocket. Straightforward. He meant it, and it scared me.

You really feel like dealing with all of us? I felt like I was bluffing. I was totally bluffing.

I’m sorry. He directed his voice to the others in the group. Is there anyone here that wants to take his place? Anyone who wants to add something?

No one said a word.

It’s just you, asshole. A different voice spoke this time.

No one moved.

I didn’t feel like getting beat up in front of an audience. I was also bothered by the potential for weapons. Something broke inside me, and I decided to leave it up to Athean. I would give him a reason to reach in his pocket. He would have the choice of pulling out a weapon or the money.

I took a moment and hesitated. I didn’t want to fold prematurely. I turned to Athean.

Give it to them, I said.

Athean gave them the money, and they walked away peacefully.

Was there something you were waiting for? I asked.

I was just about to spray them. I was just waiting for you to start shit. That’s all.

I gave you your chance, and you didn’t take it.

He didn’t say anything.

Let’s follow them, said Damon.

Athean got excited, and the others stood up.

Okay, let’s follow, said Athean.

I would follow—I had no choice.

I won’t follow you, said Karra. I don’t want to see this; it’s disgusting.

If you’ve got somewhere you’d rather be, please go there, I said. And take your gypsies with you.

The girls left uttering words of resentment. The rest of us began walking briskly. The wind picked up and tried to dissuade us, but pride was a powerful motivator. I led the way, nearly ten strides in front of everyone else. Someone had to start things, and I had resolved to do it myself.

Do not mistake this for anger—I was scared. Everyone behind me was yelling, but we kept a safe distance from the group ahead of us. There was a tangible barrier borne of the fear in our minds. Both groups maintained the same speed. Our parade brought us to an overpass above the highway. The overpass was enclosed within a chain-link canopy. It was narrow and restricted our manoeuvrability. As our targets approached the halfway point, they stopped and turned to face us.

I stood well ahead of my support, and I understood clearly the threat I faced. Nothing could stop this. This was what we wanted. I started it, and I would see it through. I stood alone facing three men twice my size. I knew my only chance was to last until the others caught up to us. Until then I was on my own. I kept my focus loose and avoided eye contact. I wasn’t looking at anyone directly. During combat, peripheral vision is key. I decided the avenue of attack. The one in the middle had threatened me first. He had it coming.

I had done this enough times. I knew there was nothing to say and no room for hesitation. I had to act. I feigned with my left towards the middle and aroused a flinch. I sank my right fist into the one next to him; he fell back. The one in the middle recovered and moved to attack, blocking off access to his ally on the end. I jabbed with my left and knocked him square in the jaw. I followed through with two more from each side; they both connected. Had there only been the one opponent I would have been in a strong position, but there were three. As I continued forward, I became exposed on either side. One of them pulled my hood over my head, and I couldn’t see. They began pounding me. I didn’t feel it; I was somewhere else. I had satisfied my craving. I was rushing with excitement, drowning in adrenaline. The pounding stopped.

I pulled off my hood, and my eyes began to water immediately. My nose and throat became inflamed. My tongue protested against the bitter taste of chemicals. Had I been sprayed? I moved back towards my friends, who were all in good spirits. The burning had been from excess chemicals in the air. It gradually subsided. I watched the three boys running wildly, stumbling and falling with no coordination or concern for their belongings.

Why are they doing that? asked Athean.

Look at them, I said.

What is it?

They’re blind. Did you spray them in the eyes?

Neither Damon nor Athean said anything.

They look completely blind.

I grabbed a backpack and a bike.

Let’s go to the bridge and break this stuff up, said Athean.

At the Gardens?

Yeah.

We won’t all fit on these bikes, and we’ve gotta move fast.

Fine. You, me, and Damon. The rest of you take off. If you want some of this shit, shut up about what you saw and talk to me at school tomorrow. Don’t walk in groups, and don’t tell anyone what just happened.

The three of us took the bikes and drove south. The bridge was at the end of a neighbourhood trail. It was home to pigeons and canvas to artists, and every so often it offered us shelter.

Open the bags; look for wallets and electronics.

Got one, said Damon. Fifty len … and a transit pass.

Any ID? I asked.

Yeah, health card, birth certificate … This guy’s three years older than us.

Nineteen?

No shit.

Anyone find their stash?

Nope.

Nothing.

I got another wallet here, I said.

Thirty-six and some change. This guy’s got a driver’s licence. He’s twenty. His name is Hintea Nazirid.

Sounds familiar, said Athean.

It does. You know that last name? I asked.

I don’t think so, said Damon.

Everyone stayed quiet a little too long. The moment was messy; it felt loose, and it made me nervous.

I need to leave.

Yeah, we all need to get home. Don’t talk about this, boys. Those three were hurt, and I don’t feel like getting pinned, said Athean.

Here, I’m taking the ID and the bike. Donate the rest to the Cleaver community if you want, I said.

I rode up the street and over the bridge. The bike was good quality—better than I could afford. It made me feel like I had bitten off something too big.

2

T here were two competing impulses in Judan’s mind. There was curiosity, and there was caution. He had a question for Sinaide, one that had been burdening him for some time. Judan was reluctant to ask, not because he thought she wouldn’t answer him but because he knew that the conversation always ended to her advantage. He suspected that Sinaide, for her own reasons, wanted him to approach her—she was waiting for him to ask. He believed that she expected his arrival and that somehow it fit into the gears of her intentions. Judan did not understand everything about Sinaide, but he understood her pattern. She was often one step ahead and acting in her own interest.

He knew that part of his reluctance was also due to pride. If he chose to approach her and he agreed to speak with her again, it meant abandoning his insubordination. It meant that she was correct, which she always seemed to be. He could accept that—he could admit that to himself, but admitting it to her was more difficult.

Judan was not unwise and not overly emotional. He knew when to abandon his pride and how to avoid spiting himself. Just the same, his relationship with Sinaide had always been a struggle. He didn’t understand her the same way he understood others. She challenged him and easily dismantled what he took for granted. He accepted this. He knew that he could not grow unless he embraced these challenges. As much as it frustrated him, he had learned everything from her.

Judan walked down the stairs to her study. It had been over a year since his last visit. The granite sounded hollow beneath his feet. He looked down at his shoes and expected to see cracks on the floor and dust in the air. He saw neither. The staircase was sterile and undamaged, although Judan felt decay in his surroundings. Even if he did not see it, he was sure that it was there. He pressed his hand against the door at the top of the stairs. It opened easily. Sinaide was not immediately visible, but he could tell she was close by.

He walked the length of her study. The ceilings were high, and the temperature was low. The air was damp, and the lights were dim. As Judan approached Sinaide’s workstation he passed by twelve massive processing units. Each was encased in glass and made low-level humming sounds. Once he came close enough, Judan could see Sinaide sitting behind her desk, focusing on some task in front of her. He stopped four feet from the desk. She did not look up. He cleared his throat out of reflex but regretted doing so immediately. Sinaide stopped what she was doing and stared directly at him. She said nothing. He said nothing. One more point to make, one more struggle for power. It made no sense to Judan. Why was it always up to him to concede?

Judan shifted his weight. He glanced impulsively from side to side. Finally he spoke.

Another simulation?

Too many to count, she said. And more than just simulations.

They aren’t echoes, Sinaide—just probabilities.

Everything echoes the pattern of previous events.

Judan began to speak but stopped himself. He would not argue with her. He was finished doing that.

I was wrong, said Sinaide.

For a moment Judan was surprised. Sinaide had always known exactly how to disarm him. He stood there and said nothing.

The last time we spoke, she said, I was wrong when I told you that you couldn’t understand. You have a way of pointing things out that I find difficult admitting to myself. Sometimes it feels threatening, Judan. You must give people time to come to terms with these things. Not everyone sets aside their emotions the way you do.

She had been right all along. She proved this by acknowledging his argument and confessing her vulnerabilities. She was still right, and he understood this.

You weren’t wrong—not entirely. I don’t understand what you’re trying to do. I don’t see what the goal is. Where are you going with this, because when I start to speculate … It doesn’t look good. It looks like—

What is it exactly that you want to know?

Why do you watch obsessively over these people? Why do you run these simulations? How are their lives important to you?

These people?

He was not being direct with his question, and she was calling him out. For years Sinaide had run behavioural simulations in an attempt to increase efficiency in marketing and recruiting, but recently her focus had shifted. It was one boy in particular that Judan was curious about, one boy that Sinaide had been watching so closely.

Why him? asked Judan.

She stayed silent.

Why do you care about this boy, Sinaide? he asked again.

She inhaled slowly and began to speak.

You mean Terin?

I don’t know his name.

His name is Terin, and he’s more than just a troubled boy, at least … he is to me.

You mean he’s valuable.

"He might be—not in the usual sense. He isn’t