Josephine's Story
“Let me get you a glass of water,” Athena said. “You’ll see – everything will be all right.”
The man who gave Josephine the injection wasn’t nearly so optimistic.
“Throughout history,” he said, as the needle went into her arm, “there have always been those who are so ashamed of what they are, who wanted so badly to integrate, to assimilate, to curry favor with those in power, that they would sell their souls, sell out their own, or even commit suicide. It’s not just telepaths – it’s a human failing, I believe.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re trying to be better than those of us who wear gloves. You’re trying to separate yourself from me, to hold onto what I’ve been denied by killing what makes you special, makes you gifted. You’re ready to hand over your soul for an empty promise of acceptance from normals, and what you think you’re entitled to. But you’re a fool, because they will never accept you. There’s only one future for telepaths – in unity, honesty, and pride in who we are. In absolute mutual guarantee, despite our differences. That’s the Corps.”