Luminosity by Stephanie Thomas

She pauses. “Maybe it was smoke and not clouds.”
    “Maybe.” The Vision worries me, but not all too much. She’s so young, and her Visions are still inaccurate. They can’t be trusted any more than the next under-developed Vision can be. “Was that all you saw?”
    “There were burning people too. Their arms…they were flailing their arms, and it looked like they were screaming, but nothing was coming out of their mouths.” The girl’s eyes fill with tears, her resolve breaking down.
    That is how the Keeper finds us as she steps out of the lift and between Connie and Mae. “What is going on here?” She puts a hand on her hip, cradling the digipad against her side with her other arm. The raven on her shoulders spreads its wings and folds them back again, making small honking noises as it moves closer to the Keeper’s neck.
    Now we have to explain ourselves. Connie and Mae look at me expectantly. Of course, since it was my idea to speak to the little girl, it’s my responsibility to explain myself to the Keeper.
    When I look up at the Keeper, though, I can already tell I’m in trouble. “She was upset.”
    “And?” The Keeper waits.
    Say something substantial, Beatrice, I tell myself. “And I asked her what was wrong, and she told me about her Vision.” I realize when I say this that it will probably get the little girl in trouble, and immediately I amend my excuse. “After I told her to tell me, that is. She wasn’t going to otherwise.”
    “So you asked someone about their Vision before I could ask them myself?” The Keeper’s questions come one after the other, almost as if she wasn’t listening to my replies at all.
    “Yes, My Keeper.” My gaze shifts to Connie and Mae. The latter is biting on her lower lip, worrying on it until I can see a piece of skin peel off with the scraping of her teeth. Connie looks terrified, as if I were standing in front of a firing squad myself, waiting for my end to come.
    “You know this is a violation of our rules, Seer Beatrice?”
    The little girl continues to tremble. I haven’t let go of her hand yet. I feel as if there’s this connection between us now as we both witness the wrath of the Keeper. I wonder if it’s ever been done before, and a rebellious little piece of me rejoices in maybe being the first.
    “Yes, My Keeper…but I thought, at the time, that it was the best for the girl.” I look to the child. “She is so scared.”
    “Isabelle.” The Keeper pulls the datapad out, addressing the child. “Tell me about your Vision.”
    Is that it? My reprimand is over? The question must read on my face, because Connie shrugs her shoulder, and Mae shakes her head ‘no,’ heading me off at the next question, which would be if I should try and leave or not. I stay put.
    The child, Isabelle, retells her story about the Vision, and this time, when she’s done, I let go of her hand and stand up straight once more. The Keeper makes her notes on her datapad and when she’s done she nods her head, gesturing down the hallway. “Very well, Isabelle. Please return to your activities.”
    Isabelle gives us all one long last look before turning down the hallway, walking as if she were in a daze with her hands on her head.
    “Now, Seers Beatrice, Constance, and Mae.” The Keeper turns to regard us all as one group. “Might I ask your business on this floor? Aside from breaking policy and risking spending time in solitary confinement?”
    Connie locks up, as she usually does when put into a confrontational situation, and it’s Mae who answers for us. “We were preparing for our research paper about how to better the young Seers and somehow incorporate them more into the Institution.”
    The Keeper nods her head, but doesn’t look impressed. “And tell me, does that report entail prying into other’s Visions before I can properly inventory and study them myself?”
    “No, My Keeper,” Mae responds in a tiny, mouse voice.
    “And now tell me, have any