Chapter V (Flashback) - The Catalyst
Sterilized
Vincy stood in front of the full-length mirror tacked to her dorm room door, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Oversized graphic tee, cargo jeans... and heels? The thought hung in her mind as she analyzed her reflection. She questioned the heels. It was a commitment, yet a step into the "grown independence" she'd been chasing. After an awkward month of hiding away, tonight was supposed to be the night– her night. This Howard freshman was ready to walk in her new identity.
“You look great.” Stephanie, her roommate, reassured her.
“I don’t know,” Vincy considered, “What if I–” She gathered her shirt from behind and tied it into a knot. “Crop it?”
“Oh yeah, I like that!”
“Right. It looks a little more balanced with the cargos–”
“But heels?”
“Sneakers?”
Vincy let out a frustrated huff. Stephanie mirrored it with a sigh from her bed.
“Ok, what are we trying to accomplish,” Stephanie said, sitting up. “Are you trying to impress someone, or are you making your Beyonce debut, because who is about to dance in those?”
Vincy groaned, swinging her head back in defeat. “I don’t know! I thought I finally found an excuse to wear them…”
Stephanie laughed, shaking her head. “And 5 inches– I think you’ll look better if you can actually walk. Seriously, last weekend was hype! There was nowhere to sit, not that anyone wanted to. I wish you would have come with us last week instead of tonight.”
“I wasn’t ready, but tonight I am. New Balance or Air Jordans?”
Stephanie popped the top of the New Balances and murmured, “You know where we live.”
Vincy put on her gold hoop earrings, layered charm necklaces and bracelets, then took one final look in the mirror.
“You smell amazing…” Steph admired.
Vincy turned from the mirror, her eyes finding Stephanie. Her roommate was now sprawled across her own bed, propped up on her elbows, watching her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with me? This is my first party of the year and I’m freaking out about it–”
Veep Veep
Vincy’s phone vibrated on her small study desk. She rolled her eyes before letting out a groan. “My mom will not stop telling me to get this flu shot. I’m over it.”
“Does she seriously send you that message every day?”
“Girl, every day, but not just to me; to the whole family. I don’t know when she’ll take the subtle hints that we’re all ignoring her.” Vincy laughed as she tossed her phone on her bed.
“I got my shot, but I don’t blame you for not getting it. My aunt doesn’t.”
Stephanie paused, causing Vincy to look at her.
“Vincy, you know I would go with you right? I just– I have to go to this meeting for tomorrow’s event on The Yard. They would be pissed if I missed another one...” Stephanie sat back up, then walked over to help Vincy pin up her hair, “And I mean, if you’re down... you could ditch the party and come with me. It won’t be as fun, obviously, but you could at least see what all the fuss is about. Might be more interesting than watching a bunch of drunk freshmen spill jungle juice on themselves.”
Vincy looked at Stephanie, her eyes slowly blinking in mocking disbelief. She shook her head slowly and then blurted into laughter, “Hard pass! Say it with me. HARD. PASS.”
“Oh come on!”
“Girl, I’m all about feminism, rights, the whole thing. However, y’all are a little too heavy for me. If you ever need bodies for numbers sake, I’m down. But just sitting in a room talking about how “the man” is trying to keep us down… Hard pass.”
“Vincy, that is not what we do,” Stephanie laughed. Then she continued, “We’re The Vanguard, and right now we’re just trying to make some noise about the gaps in the student health plan. If we don’t fight for our voices on campus, we’ll keep getting policies that treat our bodies like an administrative problem to be managed. It’s about making sure our health and safety aren't in the hands of a board of patriarchal and misogynistic men who don't have to live with the consequences.”
“And your plan is to fight these injustices, amongst yourselves– on a Friday night. Listen, if it’s working for you…”
“You’re being closed-minded, Vincy. This isn't just about some student health plan. It's about the legal loopholes, the bureaucratic red tape. The same system that makes us fight for our own healthcare choices is the one making bigger decisions for... who knows what. It's about who gets to hold the pen– Anyway, my invitation remains open.”
“As does mine.”
The girls laughed as Vincy grabbed her purse and key fob. She took a deep, steadying breath, the air a tight knot in her chest. Her heart was still pounding, but she forced a smile.
It was time.
As she reached for the door she called out, “Love ya, but I have plans of 'big fun’.”
“Right,” Stephanie chortled back. “You enjoy your ‘big fun’ and I will enjoy my– ‘not so big fun’. I have your location, so try not to get into too much trouble. I’ll see you tonight.”
“See you tonight.”
As Vincy closed the door behind her, the muffled hums of music and chatter in the various dorm rooms amplified her doubts.
Would she know anyone? Recognize a single face from orientation?
A fresh wave of anxiety hit her. Had she waited too long to be social? Friend groups had already solidified, a series of closed circles she wasn't sure how to break into.
The party was a few miles away from campus, in a local neighborhood arrayed with brick brownstones and narrow roads. The girl who invited Vincy was a classmate in her psychology class, whom she met during a group project. Although they didn’t speak about anything else other than the project, her classmate felt comfortable enough to invite her. And so, here Vincy was, phone in hand, calling an Uber to her first real college party.
When the driver pulled up to the brick brownstone, a familiar knot tightened in Vincy’s stomach. College students swarmed the sidewalk and the lawn, their voices a loud, indecipherable hum. The windows were filled with bobbing heads, silhouettes against the flashing lights inside. She needed a pep talk, but she was on her own.
"You got this. You got this," Vincy repeated silently, a mantra against the rising panic. She took a breath, thanked the driver, and placed one foot on the asphalt.
The front door opened into chaos. The air was thick with the smell of spilled beer and sweat, and a booming low 808 from a rap song she didn't recognize vibrated up through the soles of her sneakers to her chest. Flashing lights, red, then blue, then green, cut through the darkness, illuminating a sea of dancing bodies. All the furniture had been shoved against the walls to make room.
People gathered in the kitchen, while the majority of them were dancing in the dark living room or spilling out onto the back yard. Vincy didn’t recognize anyone, yet she watched as if they moved in slow motion. Few of the guys leaned against the walls and girls, in their white tanks pressed against them. It wasn’t easy to see much of anything, with the flashing lights. But one couple caught her attention. The girl's back was pressed against him. His hands groped her legs and glided up her chest. She reached over and grabbed the guy's hat from behind her. Placing it on her head, she pulled the hat low and slowly whined against him. He gently reached her chin and moved her face closer to his.
Vincy averted her eyes, a flush of heat rising in her cheeks. It felt too intimate, like she'd stumbled into someone else's private world. She turned away, scanning the crowd for her classmate. But what was her name again? Tina? Lisa? Maria?...
Her first instinct was to turn and flee back into the night. Hibernating in the dorm would have been a better option, she thought, a wave of regret washing over her. But she’d promised herself she would try. Forcing her feet to move, she navigated through the crowd towards the relative safety of the kitchen.
The kitchen was a slightly less chaotic hub, where conversations were less shouted, but still elevated a bit. A sticky film covered the counter where a massive bowl of suspiciously bright ruby red punch sat next to a cooler of cheap, sweating cans of beer. She poured the sweet-smelling liquid into a red solo cup. The flimsy plastic bending under her grip, and then retreated to a displaced couch just outside the kitchen's main thoroughfare.
From her vantage point on the sunken, worn faux leather couch, the chaos transformed into a muffled movie of awkward legs and baggy jeans. The anonymity of being an observer, of not having to perform, slowly calmed the frantic pounding in her chest. She took a sip of the punch, the syrupy sweetness coating her tongue, and let her mind drift, imagining herself on the dance floor… her body pressed against another. His mouth whispering in her ear–
“So you like to watch, huh?” A low, smooth voice asked from right beside her. Startled, she jolted and spilled juice on her shirt.
“Aah!” She exclaimed.
“Woah, Woah. Chill. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“Great, I messed up my shirt.”
“No one can see in here anyway. Don’t worry about it.”
“Whatever,” Vincy grumbled, “ I was going home anyway.”
“Nah, you don't have to do that. Umm– I’m Shae.” He reached out a hand, and in the flashing party lights, Vincy saw a genuine, infectious smile. He had the kind of effortless confidence she’d been trying to fake all night. His skin was a smooth chocolate brown, and even from a foot away, she could feel a warmth radiating from him that had nothing to do with the stuffy air of the party.
Shae chuckled, giving a small wave with the hand he was offering. “Hello? So you're just going to leave me hanging?”
“Sorry, no,” shaking out of her daze, “I’m Valencia. But everyone calls me Vincy.”
Shae’s smile widened, reaching his eyes. He settled onto the couch beside her, leaning in slightly to be heard over the music. “I’m guessing you’re a freshman… ”
“Of course, it’s that obvious,” she grumbled to herself.
“Nah, I haven’t seen you at any parties yet. The same people usually come out.”
“Oh, so you come out often…”
“Wouldn’t say “often”… How do you know Lina?” Shae practically yelled over the music.
“Who?”
“Lina– You know, Lina… You don’t know– you don’t know who’s party this is?”
“Oh yeah! Sorry. I’m terrible with names. We’re in class together. That’s how I met–”
“Lina.”
“Yes, Lina. Lina, Lina, Lina…” Vincy trailed off looking off into the crowd.
This is so embarrassing. The thought screamed through Vincy’s mind on a loop. If I could click my heels three times, Lord knows I would.
She bobbed in and out of this internal spiral, her gaze eventually landing back on Shae, who was still looking at her. Vincy hesitated to look back into the crowd, but suddenly Shae got up from the couch. A long, slow breath she didn't realize she'd been holding escaped her in a rush. Relief. Maybe now she could slip away, go home, and pretend the entire night didn’t happen.
“Let’s get you another drink.” He offered her a hand to help her up from the couch.
Vincy looked from his outstretched hand, an invitation, a simple gesture, but it felt like a crossroads. Her mind screamed, “go home,” but the warmth she’d felt from him earlier seemed to radiate from his palm, a silent promise of something other than the awkward loneliness she’d felt all night. She hesitated, a war of instinct versus desire playing out in the space of a single heartbeat.
“What?” he teased, “I need a drink too.”
Then, she made her choice. She slipped her hand into his. His grip was warm and firm as he pulled her easily to her feet.
Following Shae into the kitchen was like being pulled into the orbit of a different sun. The same people who had been an anonymous, dancing mass now came into sharp focus, their faces lighting up as they saw him.
A guy in a purple bucket hat, his shirtless torso gleaming with sweat, yelled, "Yo! My guy, what’s up?" He dapped Shae with a crisp clap of their hands before pulling him into a one-armed hug. A girl with bright pink braids that draped past her backside squeezed between them, squealing his name.
Shae navigated it all with an easy confidence, and to Vincy's surprise, he kept her anchored to his side. "Everyone, this is my friend, Vincy," he'd say, his thumb rubbing gently over her knuckles. Her name, spoken by him, felt like a passport into this new, vibrant territory.
As Shae poured them each a cup of the ruby-red punch, they were immediately absorbed into a circle of people near the counter. The introductions were a blur of names she instantly forgot—Kevin, Brianna, Marcus? Shae seemed to know them all, laughing easily as the conversation swirled around her. It was a chaotic mix of campus life: complaints about onerous professors, arguments over which party was better last weekend, and speculation about what exactly was in the jungle juice.
Eventually someone recommended a game of Kings.
A ring of facedown cards fanned around a dented metal cup, glowing faintly under the bright kitchen fluorescent light. The air smelled of spilled beer and fruity jungle juice. The six of them, hunched around the island, their laughter sharp and brittle, their phones faceup on the table, honored the unspoken rules, until broken.
Each card drawn was a pact with chaos.
Ace: “Waterfall!” someone barked. Heads tipped back, drinks poured down throats until the person who’d called it decided to stop. Giggles turned to coughs.
King: The first three were tributes— splashes of vodka, rum, something neon-blue—dumped into the communal cup. The fourth king sealed someone’s fate: “Chug, chug, chug!”
Nine: “Rhyme.” A boy fumbled, “Uh… light… night… fight…” The group jeered when he blanked. “Drink!”
Seven: “Heaven.” Hands shot up, last to react drank. Vincy, forgetting the rule, hesitated, winced, then downed her shot as the room heckled.
Before Vincy knew it, an hour had passed.
“How many cups have you had?” Shae asked Vincy.
“I don’t know, three. I’ve been so lost in the game.”
“Well, you’re cut off.”
“Wait. Why? I don’t want to stop.”
“This is your first party. You’ve been too cool to end the night sloppy.”
Vincy was feeling good. The fluorescent lights of the kitchen seemed to soften, their harsh buzz fading into a pleasant hum. A warmth spread from Vincy’s chest out to her fingertips, and she felt a slow, easy smile spread across her face. Yeah, she was feeling good… maybe a little too good.
“Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.”
“Well, I didn’t know you.”
“And you do now?”
“Ok,” Shae said, rubbing a hand over his beard with a playful glint in his eye. “Let’s see. Your name is Valencia, but you go by Vincy.”
Vincy raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips.
He continued, ticking points off on his fingers. “You're currently undecided but thinking about Psychology. Your mom, however, wants you to go Pre-med. You have a younger brother, and you’re both military brats because your dad was in the Navy.”
“Is.” Vincy corrected.
“Is...” Shae laughed.
She couldn't help but laugh. “Ok, you’ve been listening. How are you remembering all of this?”
“Because you told me,” he said simply. “Oh! And you don’t save numbers in your phone, which is why you forgot Lina’s name.”
“Well, when she sent the address she didn’t text me her name. We failed as a unit.”
“Right, right.” Shae laughed.
“So, you know a little trivia about me, but you don’t know me.” Vincy teased.
“I know you’re drunk.”
“I’m tipsy.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”
“You make me feel like I talk about myself too much? Do I? I don’t feel like I do, but maybe– a little?” Vincy pouted at Shae and tried to look up at him, but her nerves pulled her eyes to the ground. Shae gently placed his hand on her chin and guided her head up.
“Don’t. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.”
“Humph. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Vincy whispered.
For a long moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. The chaotic party seemed to fade into a muffled roar, the flashing lights blurring at the edges of her vision. All Vincy could see were his eyes—deep, brown, and focused entirely on her with an intensity that made her breath catch. In that quiet space between them, for the first time since moving onto campus, she felt completely, utterly calm.
A voice, harsh and amplified, ripped through the music: “EVERYBODY DOWN AND QUIET!”
The music cut out. The party lights died, plunging the room into near-total darkness. There was a collective gasp, the thud of bodies hitting the floor, the frantic shushing. Before Vincy could even process what was happening, Shae’s hand was on her arm, pulling her down with him.
Shae’s other hand came up, his finger pressing firmly against her lips. Vincy’s eyes were wide in the darkness, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribs. “What’s happening?” she whispered, her voice barely a breath against his finger.
“Police,” he breathed back, his eyes scanning the darkened room.
The house held its breath, for what felt like an eternity– probably only five minutes. The only sounds were the creak of floorboards from outside the front door and the distant, muffled sound of official voices. Vincy stayed low, her cheek pressed against Shae’s shoulder, the smell of his cologne a musk and warm aroma in her nostrils. Then, the footsteps receded, a car door slammed, and the house slowly began to exhale. A nervous giggle broke the silence, then another, and within a minute, someone had the courage to turn the music back on, albeit at a lower volume. The party resumed, a little more subdued, a little more wary.
“They’ll be back. We should go.” Shae warned Vincy.
“And where are we going?”
“I have something in mind, if you’re down.” Her heart gave a sudden, hard thump against her ribs. She looked at Shae, trying to read the meaning behind his easy smile, but his eyes gave nothing away. Vincy’s mother’s voice and face flashed in her mind, causing her to look away.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice softening as if he could read her mind. “It’s not that. I’m not that guy. I just want to show you something.”
“Show me what?”
“Me.”
Vincy started nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Stop worrying. I got you. I can either take you home or we head to the next spot. No matter what you decide, I want to spend more time with you.”
Vincy bit her lip, her mind a dizzying swirl of jungle juice and his disarming smile. He was offering her a choice, an out, but his final words,"I want to spend more time with you,” were the most compelling argument. It was tempting, dangerously so. But the night already felt like a whirlwind, and the thought of another unknown location, another step into unfamiliar territory, felt like too much. The cautious part of her, the part that had been hiding in the library for a month, finally won out.
“I think I should go home.”
“Oh… ok.”
“I’ll just call an uber, but thanks.”
“Let me take you home. I get we just met, but you can ask anyone here, I’m not with the bs. I just want to make sure you get home safely.”
Her mother’s voice echoed in Vincy’s mind, “Never go out alone, and don’t be alone with a guy you aren’t comfortable with.” Vincy usually did the opposite of what she was told, however the moment seemed to be a great time to turn a new leaf. The weird thing was, she was comfortable with him. Maybe it was the jungle juice, maybe it wasn’t.
Vincy looked at him for a long moment, weighing her mother's warning against the genuine concern in his eyes. She let out a small, quiet breath. "...Ok," she finally said, the word barely a whisper.
Shae grabbed her hand. His was warm and surprisingly steady, and the simple contact sent a jolt of something… reassurance? panic?, through her. Saying a quick round of goodnights to a few people, he led her confidently through the crowd and out the front door.
Once they arrived at the small black hoopty, the passenger door creaked as Shae opened the door for her. Vincy crouched into the car and sat on the torn leather seat. She tried to relax by taking deep breaths. Unfortunately the thick musty air was layered by the overpowering scent of a pine-tree-shaped car refresher dangling from the rearview mirror.
Gross.
The silence in the car felt different from the comfortable quiet they’d shared earlier. It was heavier now, filled only by the low hum of the engine and the soft R&B hits from the early 2000s playing on the radio. The air from the vents blew cold against Vincy’s skin, and she shivered, though she wasn't sure it was from the temperature.
“Are you too cold?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I can turn the heat up.”
“No, honestly I’m fine.”
“Ok.”
The silence stretched again as they pulled up to her dorm. The familiar brick building loomed, signaling the end of the night. A knot of disappointment formed in Vincy's stomach. This is it, she thought. The inevitable goodbye. She replayed their conversations, his easy laugh, the way he’d made her feel seen. She definitely wanted to see him again, but had no idea how to make that happen. As Shae shifted the car into park, he let out a long, deep breath, as if preparing himself for the same awkward farewell.
“It was nice meeting you, Valencia.”
“Valencia? Whole government, huh?” Vincy laughed, “It was nice meeting you, too.”
Vincy cracked open the door and landed one foot on the ground. Before stepping all the way out, she turned to him and said, “Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”
Shae simply nodded, giving her a small, two-fingered wave from the steering wheel. Vincy, then, closed the door and started walking towards the dorm. Before she reached the door, she heard Shae call her name from behind her.
“Valencia! Hold up!”
He ran to her with his phone in his hand.
I don’t have your number,” he said, slightly out of breath. “This campus is big enough. I don’t want to leave seeing you again up to chance.”
“There. You have my number and I have your name.” They laugh awkwardly.
Vincy's gaze bounced from his eyes to his lips and back again. A part of her wanted to close the small space between them, but the internal debate. Too soon? Or carpe diem? It left her frozen.
Just as she was about to step back, Shae closed the distance, leaning in slowly. She leaned up and allowed his soft full lips to meet hers. His hands cradled the curve of her back, making it easier for her to melt into him. The kiss was tender. Something she had never experienced before. No passion… just tenderness.
When he stood upright, Vincy realized her eyes had been closed. She slowly opened them, and finally she saw his round brown eyes, in the light, for the first time that night.
“There’s a lounge inside. We can chill for a bit, if you want,” Vincy offered. Shae grinned and a different kind of warmth, one that had nothing to do with the jungle juice, spread through Vincy’s chest. Her heart, which had been pounding with nerves, now beat with a steady, hopeful rhythm. She wanted to be with him, even for just a few more moments.
“Let me park the car; I’ll meet you inside.”
Vincy woke up to a pounding headache and a series of texts from an unsaved number.
[Unknown Number]: You still up for lunch?
[Unknown Number]: Or did I break you last night? ;)
She groaned, letting her phone fall onto the covers. Stephanie, already dressed, tossed a bottle of water and Tylenol onto the bed. "That bad, huh?"
“Thanks.” Vincy winced as she grappled with the tylenol top.
“Looks like you had a good time… you should have seen yourself stumbling in here last night.”
“Seriously? I wasn’t even that drunk.”
“Yeah, ok…”
“Was I?”
“Let’s just say, it’s clear you don’t drink. But isn’t that what college is for… right? You are here to earn a degree AND build a solid tolerance for alcohol. Everyone knows that.”
Veep Veep
"So who was he?" Stephanie asked, sitting on the edge of her own bed.
"Shae," Vincy mumbled into her pillow. "I think. He was nice."
"Nice enough to get an invite back to the room?" Stephanie teased, her eyebrows raised.
Vincy sat up, her head spinning. "I brought him back here? I don't... I don't remember that part." Her eyes darted to her phone, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. The memory was a blur of flashing lights, easy laughter, and a kiss that felt surprisingly perfect. The rest was a fog.
Stephanie looked at Vincy. Her eyebrows rose as she thinned her lips to a tight smile.
“Did something happen? What– just say it.” Vinny begged.
“I mean, I don’t know what his intentions were. He could have just been walking you back to the room… making sure you were safe– You were kinda drunk.”
“But how drunk? Drunk enough to let him… you know?”
“I didn’t say all that…”
“I don’t think he was that kind of guy.”
“Vincy, I don’t know if he is or not. I don’t know that man, but you were definitely drunk and he clearly wasn’t expecting me to be here.” Steph paused.
Veep Veep
“Is that him texting you?”
Vincy side-eyed Stephanie before reaching under her pillow for her phone. She pensively inhaled as she opened her phone.
“Did he text?” Stephanie asked again.
“Yeah, looks like we texted all night. I don’t remember any of this conversation… Oh,” Vincy groaned in sobering clarity.
“What?”
“Apparently, I agreed to lunch.”
“Are you going to go? You don’t have to follow through on drunk promises.”
“I don’t know. I’m a little confused and my head hurts.” Vincy scrolled through the messages before tossing the phone on the desk. She turned towards Stephanie and silently begged her for direction. Stephanie settled within against the wall.
“Why… are you looking at me like that?”
“Sorry, I’m just thinking.”
“Thinking what?”
“The last thing I remember was us down stairs talking. I can definitely see myself agreeing to see him again. But what I don’t get is bringing him back to the room. I don’t recall it being like that.”
“Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he was just being a gentleman and walking you to your room. These things happen, chivalry is not completely dead. On life support, but not dead.”
Vincy crossed her arms over her head and groaned again.
Veep Veep
Her phone buzzed again. She ignored it.
"So, are you going to go?" Stephanie asked. "To lunch?"
Vincy thought about it. Showing up would mean facing the gaps in her memory, the potential for an awkwardness she couldn't stand. It was easier to just... not.
"I don't think so," Vincy said, her voice small.
Stephanie seemed to understand. "Ok. Well, I'm volunteering on the Yard later for The Vanguard. We could grab food first, and then you could come hang out with me after? It's not regular volunteering, we're just playing music and passing out flyers. "
Vincy considered the offer. It was an escape. A perfect excuse. "Lunch is on you?"
"Free food," Stephanie confirmed with a smile.
Vincy untangled her face from her arms and looked at Stephanie. "Ok. Deal."
“I told you that you would feel better.”
Vincy grabbed her phone from her back pocket and quickly typed something in before sliding it in her back pocket again. “There’s something about the grease,” she finally responded.
“It’s the cure to every hangover,” Stephanie joked, dumping her trash and stacking her tray.
As they climbed the stairs through the bustle of the Blackburn University Center, Vincy's mind was anywhere but there. Her phone felt heavy in her pocket, a constant, nagging weight. She resisted the urge to check it again, her thumb hovering over the pocket as she replayed her last text to Shae. Was it too much? Or not enough? The questions spiraled in her head. Lost in this internal debate, she almost bumped into the guy standing at the top of the landing, holding a clipboard and pen.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I almost ran into you,” Vincy apologized, taking a step back.
Now that she was focused on him, she took in the details. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a T-shirt, his face shaved smooth, but his thick, wooly eyebrows gave him a look of intense focus. He seemed flustered by her apology.
“Oh, it’s ok, um– I’m just…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his clipboard.
“Nope, we’re busy. Come on Vincy, we’re already late,” Stephanie interjected, taking Vincy by the arm and starting to pull her toward the exit.
As Stephanie pulled her away, Vincy glanced back over her shoulder. From this new vantage point, she could see him trying, and failing, to get the attention of other students as they passed.
“Hello, may I have a moment of your time?” he’d start, only to be met with averted eyes. “Hi, if you have a second…” He let out a frustrated huff.
“I’d hate to be that guy,” Stephanie whispered to Vincy, a note of professional sympathy in her voice. “We canvas too, but at least people usually pretend to listen.”
Watching his earnest struggle, Vincy felt a pang of sympathy and a little curiosity. But perhaps she just needed a distraction from her own swirling thoughts about Shae. She needed something to stop herself from checking her phone again.
She stopped walking, pulling gently against Stephanie's grip. “I think I’m going to see what he’s talking about,” Vincy said, surprising herself as much as her friend.
“Come on Vincy, we’re like, 5 minutes late already,” Stephanie interjected.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Vincy!”
“I promise. Go.”
Stephanie gave her one last look of friendly exasperation. “Alright, fine. Don't get sucked into something weird,” she called over her shoulder as she started walking away.
Vincy watched Stephanie disappear into the flow of students before turning back to the guy with the clipboard. He was staring down at his notes, looking thoroughly defeated. A small knot of her earlier social anxiety returned, but she pushed it down. It was just a conversation. She took a steadying breath and walked toward him.
“Hey,” Vincy said, stopping directly in front of him.
He looked up from his notes, his expression a mix of confusion and hope. “Hey…”
“Ok,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve got one person. What’s the pitch?”
A wide, genuine grin broke across his face. “Wow. Ok. Straight to it. I like that. I’m Rich,” he said, offering his hand. “And I have all the time in the world for this.”
“Vincy,” she replied, taking it.
“Seriously, thank you for stopping,” Rich said, his relief genuine. “I was starting to feel invisible out here. May I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“The last app you downloaded, or the last social media account you made... Did you read the terms and conditions?"
“Well, if I’m being honest, no. I try to at least skim but it’s too much. I get impatient.”
"Of course, nobody does. We just scroll and click 'agree.' But what we're agreeing to... it's more than just letting them use our photos or access to our contacts.” Rich pulled a brochure from his clipboard and handed it to Vincy. “Our group, we call ourselves The Cause, we've been tracking it. They're not just building advertising profiles anymore. They're building psychological profiles. They know what makes us tick, what makes us angry, what makes us patriotic… and they know exactly which buttons to push to make us act."
“I mean… everyone knows that they take the algorithms too far. I don’t think we fully know what that means, but, yeah, we know it's happening.”
Vincy took the brochure he offered. It was slick, professional, covered in alarming infographics and bold phrases like 'Data Sovereignty' and 'Algorithmic Warfare.' As she scanned the dense text, he continued, "Our concern is that they're starting to use that data to see who's a good fit for the next conflict. It's a digital draft, happening right under our noses.”
“I don’t get it– next conflict, like war?”
“Like, who’s going to fight in it? Look at this,” Rich pointed out. “They're turning our social media feeds into recruitment posters, and it's going to be people our age, our friends, our brothers, who get called up to fight these new tech wars for governments flexing their technological and nuclear muscles."
“Oh, I didn’t realize–”
“What?”
“My brother…” The words came out slowly as a cold realization washed over her. “He watches those same kinds of videos online. You know, the doomsday, sky-is-falling, ‘stay ready’ content.”
“No, this is more than that.”
“Is it?”
“This is more than conspiracy theories. It’s backed by data.”
Veep Veep
She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, glanced at her own phone, then sucked her teeth in frustration before quickly locking it and sliding it into her back pocket.
“What data?” She asked.
Instead of answering, Rich unlocked his tablet and swiped through a few screens. He turned it to face Vincy. “Check this out. The Cause has been tracking ad algorithms served to student profiles. On the left is the newest trailer for Sector Siege V. On the right is a recruitment ad for the U.S. Cyber Command’s Aegis Initiative.”
Vincy leaned in. The two videos played simultaneously. The Sector Siege trailer was explosive—gleaming armor, futuristic cityscapes, a driving electronic soundtrack. The Aegis Initiative ad was… almost identical. It used the same sharp, angular font for its titles, a similar color palette of blues and oranges, and a remixed, slightly more orchestral version of the same song. It looked less like a military ad and more like an expansion pack for the game.
A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. It was seamless. It was brilliant… but it was also terrifying.
“They make joining the military look like the next level,” Rich said, his voice low and intense. “It's gamification. They identify top players, kids with the best reaction times, and they turn recruitment into a prestige class you can unlock.”
He swiped again, pulling up what looked like a map of the Howard campus, covered in red and blue heat signatures.
“And it’s targeted,” he continued, pointing to a glowing red area. “This is the School of Engineering. They get flooded with ads about building ‘patriotic defense systems.’ Over here, the College of Arts and Sciences, especially the poli-sci majors? They get a constant stream of op-eds about ‘global responsibility’ and the need for ‘preemptive engagement.’ It's a pipeline, Vincy. A digital draft.”
Vincy stared at the map, at the glowing red splotch over the engineering school. She thought of her own feed, the articles and videos that always seemed to know exactly what would make her angry, what would make her engage. It wasn't just the algorithm. It was a design…
Veep Veep. Veep Veep. Veep Veep.
She pulled her phone from her back pocket and answered, “Hello, yeah I’m still here.” Vincy gestured she’d be one minute and stepped away from Rich. “I know, he texted me. I can’t believe he remembered you. Well, I was trying to ghost him, but I made a promise and I’m sticking to it. Yeah, I remember him being nice. Ok, ok, I’m coming.”
Vincy hung up, the mundane pressure of meeting up with Stephanie was a stark contrast to the vast, terrifying conspiracy Rich had just laid out. She turned back to him. “Hey,” she said awkwardly, her gaze dropping to the glowing map on his tablet. “So, I have to go…”
“Yeah, I figured,” Rich said, shaking his head. “The posturing between the US and its rivals over resources in the South China Sea, the tension in the Middle East… they’re not just flexing old-school nuclear weapons anymore. This is going to be a Code War, fought with AI and drones. They need a generation of soldiers who are comfortable with a virtual battlefield, who see conflict on a screen, because it makes the real-world consequences feel distant. They’re desensitizing us to get us ready.”
She looked back up to him.
“I believe you.”
He leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers. “So, yeah,” he said, his voice dropping the last of its sales-pitch quality and becoming just a plea. “It’s more than doomsday videos. It’s a system. And we’re just trying to make people aware of what they’re signing away. We’re meeting on Thursday… if you’re interested in hearing more.”
“I can’t make any promises. I’m already regretting the ones I made today,” she sighed, a bitter edge to her voice. “But I will check it out. Thanks for the brochure.”
“Thanks for listening.”
Thank you for reading Chapter V of Sterilized! Let’s get into a little background.
When I was a little girl, I read a book that bounced back and forth in time, and I always thought it was a masterful way to understand “how we got here.” My goal with this chapter, which I’m calling "The Catalyst," was to do just that— to provide the crucial backstory for Vincy's journey from Chapter I onward.
We'll have more flashbacks as we go, and I encourage you to pay attention to the small details. They're the hidden gems that will unlock the bigger picture.
If you're enjoying the story, please consider sharing it with a fellow thriller-lover. Your support means the world! The next installment, Chapter VI, is now available.
For new readers, or to revisit previous installments, you can click here to access the Start Here / Chapter Guide page.
Again, thank you for reading, and see you next Tuesday. — Isis Daniel