ARC: Essence by Lisa Ann O'Kane Page B

Ryder’s age. Right now, there are hash marks every year, but if I had imported a smaller amount of data, I could see months, weeks, days, even minutes or seconds.”
    He pointed to the vertical y-axis. “This tracks the highs and lows of Ryder’s heart rate and hormones. So, if we consult the data” – here, he motioned to the two squiggly lines, one a brighter shade of green than the other – “we can see that his hormone fluctuations tend to follow the patterns of his heart rate. So, if he’s keyed up at the top of a mountain, for instance, his heart rate and hormones will reflect this.”
    The sight of Ryder’s heart and hormone lines squiggling across the screen left me strangely unsettled. I felt like a voyeur – like I was reading his mind or scoping out his secrets.
    “Let me show you Ryder’s first kiss,” Rex continued. “I don’t usually know the catalysts for each patients’ fluctuations – and it’s certainly none of my business to find out – but I’m specially privy to Ryder’s information, as he reports his milestones to me whenever possible. We use the timing system to backtrack events and assign profiles to each one.”
    He turned and addressed the computer again. “Ryder Stone, patient number zero-zero-three. April 30, 2033, 2.30pm-6.30pm.”
    I felt a tightening in the pit of my stomach when I saw the two green lines appear again. This time, they started relatively low on the graph, and they arched slowly upward, weaving up and down until they spiked and peaked somewhere around 4 o’clock. The peak held for quite some time before the lines began their slow descent an hour or so later.
    Rex pointed to the moment the lines began to dip. “He was twelve when it happened. And this is when she was called back to the stables.”
    “The stables?” My heart sank. Surely Shayla wasn’t Ryder’s first kiss. Was she?
    My cheeks burned, and I looked away from the monitor. “OK, so how do you use this to research Essence drain?”
    “Excellent question.” Rex turned to address the computer again. “Elsa Holly, please. Patient number zero-seven-eight. Inception to death, stabilized with averages.”
    Death? A lump rose in my throat as another set of green lines appeared on the screen. This time, the x-axis began at nineteen and ended at twenty-three. The up-and-down fluctuations weren’t nearly as exaggerated as Ryder’s.
    “Elsa joined us five years ago,” Rex explained. “Passed away just this last summer.”
    I studied the abrupt ending of the graph. Its last reading peaked at the very edge of its upper limits. Elsa was terrified when she died.
    “Bear attack,” he said, noticing my hesitation. “A terrible day for the entire Community. I’m sorry to show you this – it’s hard to relive it – but what’s interesting about Elsa’s chart is the fact that she lived a relatively quiet life until the moment of her death.” He motioned to the fairly even flow of Elsa’s emotions through time. “Mostly kept to herself. Didn’t exercise or explore or put herself out there at all.”
    His expression became somber. “She eventually decided to leave the Community, but she startled a bear on the outskirts of our camp. We found her heart rate monitor a few days later.”
    He shook his head as I gasped. “If I were Cedar, I would tell you Elsa lived a very cautious life. She was extremely careful with her Essence, yet fate snuffed her out far too soon, wouldn’t you agree?”
    “Yeah, but maybe Elsa was just born with a very low supply of Essence? You never know how much your body stores to begin with.”
    “That’s exactly what your friend Javier suggested, and I would be compelled to agree if this were a singular occurrence. But the data we have collected suggests a very powerful non-alignment of hormones, heart rates and life spans across the board. Regardless of the variables.”
    He paused. “Let me show you some files from Community members who have retired and crossed