“That can’t be right…” Vermilion stared at his screen. He then looked at his daughter who did not seem surprised at all.

“It’s right. My score is only 204.” she spoke in a monotone voice, disappointment dripping from each word.

Vermilion raised his hand slightly and in response, a tablet wafted off of his desk and into his hand. “Marone, let’s try again. Maybe I miscalculated or…”

“Dad, you don’t miscalculate. The score is right. It’s 204,” she removed the sticky probes from her arm and turned to face her father. “I’m not even average…”

His mind raced as he tried to find some explanation or reason why her potential score would be so low. The maximum potential for any Dewa was 1000. Vermilion himself was measured at 788, marking him as an Elite. On average most would be measured at 300 to 350. These would make up the bulk of the military and security forces. The higher the number, the more responsibility in Dewa society. As a daughter of an Elite, Marone was projected to be measured around 600.

“This cannot be correct, Marone! I’ll recalibrate the reader and we’ll try again tomorrow.” Vermilion turned his back to her and began removing panels from the side of the massive supercomputer.

“But Dad, we’ve tried…”

“You’re dismissed!” Marone was quite familiar with that tone of voice. There would be no further discussion.

She swallowed to hold back tears. He had already forgotten she was there and was inside the huge cabinet, trying to locate the defective wire or burned out component that was giving his daughter the false score. She knew he’d never find it. The problem lay with her, not the machine.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way out of the cold, sterile laboratory. Once outside, she sat down and watched the fountain outside of the Yevel Science building. The campus was owned and operated by The Consortium and dedicated to finding the most powerful Dewa. At only 204, the only reason she was even allowed to sit here was because of her ever important father.

The Great Psychic Vermilion Osain was his official title. It was he who created the Dewa Potential Reader and why he was so sure that Marone’s score was incorrect. The amusing part was he was less afraid of his daughter being a weak Dewa as opposed to his magnum opus failing. The Consortium had invested quite a lot of resources into him and he needed to justify their trust. His project was only one of several thousand being performed on Yevel Campus and at any time they could pull the plug and reallocate those resources somewhere else. Not to mention the stigma surrounding an Elite who spawns a low level Dewa like herself. For all of the politics being thrown around, she found comfort in the running water of the fountain. As far as she was concerned, this fountain was the best part of Yevel Campus.

Marone flitted her fingers towards the water and managed to suspend a couple of droplets in the air. The strain began immediately. Small sweat beads formed on her head. With incredible effort, she tossed them skyward. They fell back into the fountain pool making almost no noise.

A crowd applauding in the courtyard caught her attention. She snapped out of her trance, wiped her head and walked over to where the commotion came from. A young boy was showing off his pyrokinesis. He projected flames into the shapes of birds, cats and wolves before deftly sending them at the crowd only to dissipate them at the last second, prompting more applause.

“OK, Rein. Show’s over,” a woman, his mother Marone assumed, stepped forward from the crowd as he gave an exaggerated bow.

“What a prodigy!”

“He’ll be an Elite for sure!”

“Bravo, Son!”

The crowd dispersed, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Marone became sick with envy. Why him and not her? He could play with fire like some toy and she almost passed out from a few water droplets! What made him so special and her so…

Guilt settled in just then as she realized she was envious of a boy who never asked for that ability. He was born that way. To him it was normal. Just like with other Elites.

Then came pity. He would never get to have a normal childhood. The second her father measured his potential he would undoubtedly score around 600 or more. The Consortium would wrench him from his family and train him to be whatever they deemed necessary for society.

That realization brought on another feeling. A pleasant one. Having such a low score disqualified her from the most demanding societal roles. She was too weak to fight, too underpowered to be a medium and no danger to anyone as just flicking water around was an incredible strain.

She was one of the truly free Dewa in Yevel. She felt liberated.

It was a small comfort as she knew her father would never stop trying to improve her score. Marone wanted to try and accept her life as it was. She wanted nothing to do with the politics anyway. She just wanted to enjoy whatever life she was going to have. With her mind awash with questions, she walked toward the city, eager to find her few friends. She knew they would at least be happy to see her.

In his lab, Vermilion was aghast at his discovery. He knew the machine was reading her wrong but not like this.

The screen now read: MARONE OSAIN: MAXIMUM POTENTIAL = 4002.

Apparently her power had blown out half of the coils used to measure her. He quickly erased both the computer’s memory to keep this discovery hidden. His daughter would not be an experiment, not even his own. Now he had a new objective. He had to protect Marone from The Consortium. If they knew… he locked his doors and set to work. How does one suppress an unconscious God?