“Mens rea, meaning ‘guilty mind’, is the element of a crime involving the mental state of the individual.” Professor Bansa’s droning voice lulled the class to sleep. Continuing his lecture at a monotone pace, he seemed oblivious to several students slowly nodding off, drifting between consciousness and the sweet slumber I was denied last night. “It is based on the standard test for criminal culpability. Actus reus non facit reum nisi mens sit, or ‘the act is not culpable unless the mind is guilty’. There needs to be criminal intent for one to be criminally liable.”

I was lucky Professor Bansa rarely asked questions in class, and if he did, it was voluntary, unlike other professors who picked students to answer. I wasn’t in the mood to listen in class, much less recite.

Same with Professor Gallagher’s class, I also had a plan to place myself on the top part of the hierarchy of students for this class without stepping on anyone's toes. I'd study way ahead in the syllabus, looking up terms and concepts I came upon not connected to our basic subject, and then wait for an obscure question only I could answer. This was the best way to appear more intelligent than I actually was. But then again, I guess studying ahead was something an intelligent person would do.

If that didn’t work out like if it was a slow day, I planned to ask questions that would make me sound intelligent. Although I had to be careful going this route as I could very easily come off as annoying to my classmates.

At the moment though, I didn’t know whether I should care about that anymore. Having the power to bite off the head of everyone in class placed things in perspective. I wouldn’t do that, of course; I'd be hunted down and killed by BID agents soon after. I'm just saying it’s a different feeling knowing I can kill everyone in this room.

Professor Bansa said, “That is the general rule, and as legal systems evolved, exceptions were made. There are crimes involving negligence and reckless actions, the most common of which are vehicular accidents causing damage. Unless proven otherwise, we can assume most people do not intend to crash into a person or property. Another exception are strict liability crimes where the intent is immaterial as the law only looks as whether a prohibited act was committed.”

“Excuse me, Erind,” my classmate beside me said, breaking my dangerous fall to the sleep I craved. “Is something wrong with your hand?”

My eyes widened for a split second as I realized what I was doing; I was absentmindedly scratching the small crystal growth on my palm with my thumb. The skin-tone pimple patch I used to cover it was already crumpled and loosening.

I closed my fist. “I accidentally cut my hand while chopping vegetables yesterday. A small, shallow wound. Nothing to worry about. I was just trying to remove the scab.” I grinned shyly as if embarrassed. “Sorry, that's a gross thing to say.”

“I’m not going to be grossed out by that.” He flashed a winning smile to reassure me. Ramello Staten, a 1L like me. We became classmates only this second semester.

He was a mini-celebrity because he came from an impoverished family, none of which had gone to college before, and got accepted at the prestigious Cresthorne Law. He was also the recipient of many awards, including a medal from the White House. On top of that, he even co-founded a non-profit organization helping the mental health of his fellow African-Americans in low-income areas to reduce the risk of Adumbrae seeding. This guy’s CV was loaded.

“Do you cook at home?” he asked.

No, I was chopping vegetables for fun, I thought sarcastically. But instead, I said, “Yes, I cook.” I sat up straight and looked intently at Professor Basa, hinting that the conversation was over. I tried to smoothen the pimple patch on my palm.

“That’s awesome. I also love to cook. Don’t have time now though, law school just demands so much.”

I could act like a bitch to shut him up, but Rule #7 prevented me from doing that. Just slightly bitchy. “We could make time if we really wanted to. But I know you’re so much busier than me. You have plenty of advocacies and extracurricular activities from what I've heard on the news.”

He scratched his chin, slightly embarrassed. “Ah, that. Well, all that news, I didn’t want exposure or anything. But you know, I have to show underprivileged people like me that we can climb and rise to the top.”

Professor Bansa’s coughing made Ramello stop talking. He was coughing harshly on the microphone, with spit flying everywhere. He drank some water and went on with his lecture. “On the subject of crimes committed by Adumbrae, there are several interpretations on how to classify them. Note that this is wholly different from the universal crime of betraying humanity. One, we can view them as acts with criminal intent. This is, however, not a popular view as people with a collapsed Eloyce Field have surrendered their ego…” And the class went back to semi-hibernation.

But not Ramello. He talked to me again after a few minutes. “I noticed you bike going here every day. Sorry if I sound like a stalker. I’m not following you or anything."

“Uh-huh.”

“We ride the same train. Again, not a stalker. I get on a couple of stations before yours so I see you sometimes. You're always so focused on reading your notes with earphones on so I didn’t bother you.”

“Yep, I put my earphones on when I don’t want to be bothered,” I said pointedly.

“Alright then,” he replied. “Anyway, do you have a hard time carrying your bike up and down the station? I can help you.”

“Not really. I have a foldable bike.” This guy was hitting on me? Seriously? Calm down big guy, I can eat you whole. In a non-sexual way, mind you.

“A foldable bike? That’s smart. I should trade in my bike for a foldable one. It’s too bulky during peak hours on the train. Do you know of a place where I could trade in my bike?”

“Um, no.” This guy was seriously annoying, I had a lot to think about. Talking about bikes just reminded me of my toasted bike which I replaced yesterday. After leaving the meeting of superhero hopefuls, I went on a shopping spree to replace all my lost stuff, putting the money that was supposed to be my funds for hiding into good use. Maybe I should've been more careful and stayed at home, but I really wanted a foldable bike.

That shut him up for a while and we listened to Professor Bansa giving an overview of how Adumbrae crimes were classified and punished as opposed to normal crimes.

I was committing a crime actually. The fact that I was an Adumbrae, or turning into one, was a crime in and of itself even if I didn’t kill anybody. It was the universal crime of betraying humanity that Professor Bansa mentioned. A crime punishable by death. Death penalty wasn't legal in all states, but the execution of an Adumbrae was a separate matter—they weren’t considered humans for one. And now, I wasn’t one either.

“Erind, do you have a class after this?” Ramello said.

“Yes, I have. I’m guessing you already know that?”

“Ok, you got me. Want to have lunch later? I don’t have any more classes for the day, but I can wait for you.”

What the hell? Wrong timing, big guy. I wasn’t in the mood for entertaining people right now. I was about to reject him but then paused and thought about it. I was stressed because of all the bullshit going on—just a bit; I found it difficult to feel full-on stress. More specifically, I hated that I lost some control over my life, being pushed around by hidden forces, Adumbrae this, Corebring that, ugh.

This might be the relaxation I needed. A return to form, return to something familiar, something I could control.

“Professor, I have a question,” a girl a couple of rows in front of me said, raising her hand. The whole class woke up from their stupor. “There is a case, Robinson v. California, where the Supreme Court held that it is unconstitutional to punish a drug addict, the status of being a drug addict, even if the person was taking illegal drugs. How do we reconcile this with the status of an Adumbrae?”

“Good question, Ms. Roberts,” Professor Bansa said. “Anyone care to try to answer it?”

I knew the answer to this one. This was not the question I was waiting for where I could show off my knowledge, but this was enough for what I intended to do now. I raised my hand.

“Miss Hartwell, go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir. The state of being seeded by an Adumbrae is quite different from that of a drug addict, as the status of being an Adumbrae itself is dangerous. It's more akin to driving under the influence. Let's say a person is an alcoholic: driving under the influence was a voluntary choice, even if crashing into a person or property is involuntary, and will thus result in criminal liability. As opposed to getting drunk and sitting in a stationary car. One’s body turning into an Adumbrae is anything but a stationary car.”

“Very good analogy, Miss Hartwell. Thank you for your answer.”

“Wow, you were listening,” Ramello said.

“Unlike you,” I said. He was coming on too strong, and if I accepted his invitation for lunch that easily, he would have the upper hand in any of our future interactions. My face was timid, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be feisty if need be. That dissonance was attractive to men. They'd assume I was specifically confident with them while shy around others, making them feel special. “How can we...what were your words again? Climb and rise to the top? If we weren’t listening in class?”

“You got me again,” he said, smiling. “My offer still stands.”

I wasn’t about to agree with him; stringing him along was fine. I could have lunch with him next week, or even next month. I was just happy I was in control of something again. “Can't. I have something to do. How about just accompanying me to the train station? Riding our bikes together? That is if you could wait for me even though we’re not going to have lunch.”

His face lit up. “That’s fine, yeah, sure. Riding together is fine. No rush. Uh, yeah, maybe we could have lunch some other time.”

“See you after my Consti class then.”

 

---

 

I felt calmer throughout Constitutional Law, and the class finished without any incident.

The new world I was forcefully thrust in, the world of Adumbrae, of superpowers, of conspiracies, of government experiments, was straight out of the movies. I was out of my game here. But it didn’t mean I should lie down and get stressed out of my mind because there were things I couldn't control...like staying human.

Ramello was waiting for me by the racks, and we rode our bikes side by side until the train station, which was about fifteen minutes away by bike from the entrance of Eloyce University. Romantic, I know.

I was on auto-mode, answering his questions, keeping the conversation going with random bullshit topics like professors we hated, the fire at Sanders mall, our grades, plans for the future, and all sorts of other crap.

When we got to the station he said, “Since we’re here anyway, I think I will just go home as well.”

“Really? You have nothing else to do? Have lunch with your friends?”

“No, but maybe we can have lunch at a restaurant near the station you get off—.”

“Sorry, I was planning to eat while finishing work at my condo.”

He nodded, disappointed but trying to hide it. “It’s fine. There’s always a next time. I will still accompany you though.”

This was all calculated, of course. Earlier, before he could suggest a different time we could have lunch, I suggested he accompany me to the train station instead. Naturally, he’d agree to that.

Going with me to the train station was dumb as fuck. What would he do after? He'd be forced to ride the train if he wanted to be with me a little longer. I knew he'd try to invite me again, and to his credit, he was gentlemanly enough not to force the issue. A few fucktards have tried that move on me back in undergrad. I'd reject him, and in the end, he was forced to go home early.

I sighed in contentment as I folded my bike. Controlling people in subtle ways like this always brought a smile to my face. It was a win-win situation anyway. I was sure Ramello was also happy thinking he made progress with me.

No harm done.

“Erind don’t make it too obvious, but look at that car,” Ramello said, nodding to a light grey sedan parked on the corner, probably a Mayfair. “Did you notice it earlier? I think I saw it on the way here.”

It was an unfamiliar car to me. “Are you sure? Maybe it was some other car.”

“I’m sure I saw it a couple of times.”

“What do you mean? Like it stopped and waited for us to pass and then followed us again?”

“I, uh…that does sound dumb. You’re right, maybe I saw a similar car. That model is common. Why would someone follow us anyway?”

That would've been my reaction a couple of days ago. But not anymore. Annoyance started to creep back in. Should I drag him into this?

“Let’s go, Erind. I can carry your bike for you.”

“Wait—”

“Don’t worry about it. I can carry both our bikes.” 

I grabbed his sleeve as he walked ahead. “Wait, Ramello. I have to tell you something. I think you’re right...we might be getting followed.”