Page 41 of White Lights
The director’s eyebrows rise. The snake flashes her tongue.
“Some things,” Moriah says, “cannot be avoided.” She claps her hands loudly, making half the first-years jump.
“Moments from now,” she says, gesturing down the mountain, “each of you will ski toward the last-years at the bottom of this slope. You will find one of them waiting, just for you. From then on, you’ll be coupled. Your mentors will advise you as you make your first films and throughout this first, most challenging term at Acheron.”
Whispers travel down the line.What if we can’t ski? Is it random who we match with? Will they be holding a sign with our name?
“All you need to know,” the director says, her eyes searching the nervous group, “is that none of you deserve them.”
Dez squints at the program director, unimpressed by her belittling words, and yet uneasy. What is this about?
“Each of them,” Moriah says, “is infinitely more experienced, more capable, and more impressive than the lot of you combined. So may I suggest you proceed with gratitude?”
“Excuse me, Director Moriah,” Paul Rowan asks beside Dez, “but how are we to know which mentor we’re assigned to?”
Moriah stares at him, as if the question is so facile it has stumped her. “Trust your intuition,” she finally says. “It will guide you where you’re meant to go.”
“So, it’s random,” someone mutters down the line.
Ragged wind bats Dez’s hair against her face. She shivers from the cold and out of fear of what she’s about to have to do. She will definitely fall on her ass and probably break something before she comes anywhere near finding this mentor she doesn’t deserve.
“If you’re scared,” Moriah barks at them, “good! That’s precisely why we’re up here. Fear is the conduit to intuition. You’ll have to get out of your head and into your body to find the right mentor.”
At least Dez is doing something right: she’s terrified.
Moriah steps back, speaking into a wireless white microphone she pulls out of her ski suit. “Now, turn around and face the slope!”
Carefully, the students turn to find a massive cloud has blown in while Moriah was threatening them, filling the slope with dark gray mist. Where before, the bottom of the slope was terrifyingly distant, now it’s entirely obscured by a hazy, snow-laden fog. Dez can’t see ten feet in front of her.
Surely they’re going to call this off, delay until the fog passes.
“When I say go, you ski,” Moriah says. “After you find your mentors, they will accompany you to this evening’s introduction to the Vault.”
Finally, what Dez has been waiting for. She’s eager to see the place where they’ll work, but she’s got to get through this strange, dangerous ritual first.
“One more thing,” Moriah says, looking up and down the line. “Every mentor has their own style of leadership. Some of you will click. Some of you will not. Regardless, there will be no reassignments. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” the first-years around Dez say.
No, Dez thinks as she looks down the terrifying slope.
“Last-years,” Dr. Moriah speaks through her microphone, her voice rippling down the mountain through the PA speakers, “light your torches.”
All at once, down the slope, where the mountain disappears, dozens of distant yellow flames appear through the fog. Somewhere on the other side of it, the last-years must be waiting, facing up-mountain, each grasping an undulating torch.
Dr. Moriah says simply: “Go.”
Dez looks left and right, asking her fellow first-years with her eyes what they should do.
“Go!” Moriah roars. “Fly to your destiny!”
A first-year who clearly knows how to ski is the first to leave. She pushes off with her poles and whizzes into the mist in a smoke-like flurry of snow. A handful of other strong skiers follow. More tentatively, Simon pushes off and promptly lands face down on the hill.
“Lesson one,” Director Moriah says into the microphone, “fall safely, preferably on your ass.”
Mortified, Simon struggles upright, teeters left, lunges right, and falls again, this time worryingly close to the sheer edge of the mountain.
“Lesson two,” Moriah says, “keep your balance.”
