The Testing
Page 34
The dawn brings a new tray. No decision has been made. The Testing official tells me to be patient before leaving me alone to pace the floor.
Trays come. Trays are taken away. No news.
I relive my days in The Testing, looking for clues as to what could have propelled Tomas to take Zandri's life, and find nothing. While Zandri was brash and headstrong, I can't imagine her attacking Will or Tomas. She was friends with Tomas. She might have even loved him a little. And now she's dead. Tortured by my waking thoughts, I try to lose myself in sleep, but find Dr. Barnes and the Testing officials waiting for me there, too. One by one they evaluate the performance of the dead candidates.
Ryme. Nina. Malachi. Boyd. Gill. Annalise. Nicolette. Roman. Zandri.
A pile of bodies lies in the corner when the evaluators turn to me. Dr. Barnes shakes his head. He tells me I showed great promise. It's too bad I trusted the wrong people. Leaders cannot afford that mistake. He tells me I failed as another Testing official pulls out a crossbow, takes aim, and fires. The quarrel punches through my stomach, and I scream myself awake before I hit the floor.
Locked in a room with no human contact other than the official who brings my meals, I feel the tension gnawing at me. I pace for hours and then sit for hours more and stare at the walls, willing a decision to be made. But no decision is forthcoming, and a small part of me wonders if this waiting is also a test. Are Dr. Barnes and his friends sitting behind their screens, watching to see how we handle it? Do other candidates pace as I do? Are my nightmares a strike against me or does uninterrupted sleep show an undesirable streak of indifference?
I stare at the camera above, not caring if the officials see that I know it is there. Or maybe I want them to know. To see I am smart enough to figure out that they are watching. As sleep eludes me, I think about the candidates who have died, and the memory wipe that is coming if we cannot outsmart it, and wonder for the first time if the candidates who failed the first two rounds of Testing were eliminated or if the Commonwealth simply erased any memory of this experience. Over the past one hundred years, the United Commonwealth population has grown, but has it grown enough to eliminate dozens of its most promising citizens every year? And if those candidates aren't eliminated, where do they go?
After the morning tray has come and gone, I tire of the eyes that follow me and the ears listening to my awakening screams. Giving my audience behind the camera a small smile, I probe my bracelet, find the clasp and watch it fall from my wrist onto the bed alongside those that belonged to Zandri and Nina. I remove the second bracelet from my bag, place it with the others, then I take my bag and lock myself in the bathroom.
The feeling of being alone — really alone — eases some of the tension from my shoulders. I take a shower. I curl up on the floor and nap. With nothing else to do, I go through the items in my Testing bag. These are things I brought from home. Things my mother sewed. My father touched. My brothers worked with. Things that helped define who I used to be. No longer afraid of being judged by the cameras, I allow my tears to fall as I touch each one and hold it to my cheek, trying to recapture the person who first packed this bag. I miss the hope she felt. The optimism. The brightness of the future in front of her. If Tomas's pills don't work, will taking away the memories of The Testing bring her back? Can losing my memories truly wipe the shadow from my heart?
Maybe, and for a moment I allow myself to yearn for that blissful ignorance. Dreams filled with peace. A future free of too much knowledge.
I jump at the sound of a male voice and turn to see where it is coming from. It takes me a minute to realize the voice is speaking from the device clutched tight in my hands.
"The soil in sector four is showing signs of sustaining life, and the radiation levels are almost nonexistent. The new formula appears to be working."
Zeen. His voice is strong and healthy and so wonderfully familiar. I ache, hearing the sound of it. I must have hit a button that started a playback of Zeen's voice. The Transit Communicator is also a recorder.
"Tell Dad there are sick animals in sector seven. Might be from the new berries we cultivated there. We should run tests."
I remember hearing about that problem over dinner — a week or maybe two before my graduation. They argued, laughed, and debated the problem long into the night, even allowing me to add a few thoughts of my own. I felt so grown-up to be included. So ready to take on the world. How silly that seems now.
For a while I am content to listen to Zeen's voice as he records his thoughts on the sections outside of Five Lakes that my father and his team are working to revitalize. A disgruntled word makes me laugh. Mentions of Dad or my other brothers cause tears. And I wonder — how does the recorder work? I know the device can communicate with the one Dad has in his office, but I've never heard Dad mention that it doubles as a recorder.
It takes me a while to find the button. A small area in the back that looks to be a part of the casing but has been turned into something more. Something not originally designed to be a part of the device. Something created by Zeen.
The screwdriver on my pocketknife helps me reveal the rest of his handiwork. I can't help smiling as I admire my brother's ingenuity. A tiny black box has been nestled among the other wires and chips. By the way he spliced and connected the wires, I can see how he rigged the communication microphone to record voices and the earpiece to act as the playback speaker. All of it is done with seamless precision. Had I not squeezed so hard and mistakenly triggered the playback button on the back, I would never have recognized the recording device was there.
A knock startles me. Carefully, I slide the items into my Testing bag, go into the darkened bedroom, and open the door. The woman on the other side is holding a tray and wears a concerned expression. "Is everything okay in here?" she asks.
I guess my disappearance into the bathroom has not gone unnoticed.
"I'm fine," I assure her, but from the commotion coming from down the hall, I fear someone else is not. Has one of the candidates ended the tension like Ryme did? Though I should no longer care, I worry for Tomas. I can't help it. No matter how The Testing has changed him, he will always be the boy from home who was kind to everyone. I want him to live.
The Testing official hands me the lunch tray, tells me no decision has been made, and locks the door. For the first time, I don't mind the solitude. I eat the chicken swimming in a delicate tomato sauce and the fresh vegetables before once again closing myself off in the bathroom.
For a while I take comfort in my brother's voice as he lists the day-to-day tasks that need addressing. But the reality that another candidate may have died soon has me pacing the floor. Perhaps I should see it as one less candidate standing in my way to the ultimate goal. But I can't. To me it is one more promising mind whose fate will soon be forgotten. Like the others who will be forgotten. Unless someone remembers. If the United Commonwealth and the Testing officials have their way, no one will. At least no one who cares.
I look at the device in my hands and have an idea. It takes me a few minutes to figure out which series of buttons starts the recording device. Once I do, I begin to talk. In a quiet and often unsteady voice I remember Malachi. His smile. His shy demeanor. His sweet singing voice and his death. Ryme. Her corncakes. Her cocky attitude. Finding her hanging from the ceiling in our room. The first of the Testing murders. I tell of waking up in the box. Walking out onto the broken streets of Chicago. The crossbow quarrel aimed at me. My terror. How the gun kicked in my hand.
I find the recording device can only record so much. I have to pick and choose what I tell. I agonize over which memories to preserve. It breaks my heart when I have to rewind and erase a story to preserve a different one. They all deserve to be remembered, but only a few can. More than once my tears force me to stop the recording. My heart stings. My lungs burn and my throat is raw when the recorder is full. But the memories are there. As much as the machine will hold. For someone to learn and remember.
Will they send the device back to my parents if my candidacy is unsuccessful? I doubt it. But maybe I can ask Michal to get it to them if I'm gone.
With my pocketknife, I etch a small design in the back of the device before shoving it in my bag. I then pile my clothes and other belongings on top and wash the evidence of my efforts from my face. When the Testing official brings dinner, she again asks after my welfare. I assure her I am fine and take the tray. Before she closes the door she says, "A decision has been made. The next class of University students will be announced after breakfast."
Pass or fail, this will all end tomorrow.
CHAPTER 22
FOR THE FIRST time in weeks, there are no nightmares. Just dreams of home and a sense of peace and relief that this all will end soon. The knock at the door wakes me. A new tray with a request that I be dressed and packed in an hour. Someone will come for me.
I pick at the meal. Fresh strawberries. A thick, hot grain sweetened with raisins and walnuts. Tangy orange juice. Rolls thick with cinnamon icing. I try to enjoy it all, but a nervous tension begins to push aside my newfound well-being and I can eat only a few bites.
I fasten the clasp of my identification bracelet around my wrist. The second bracelet I place back on the strap of my bag. I think of my father and how he must have felt while preparing for his verdict. And I wait wondering if I will see Tomas before the officials remove our memories. Will he be able to pass me one of the pills? Will he see my newfound suspicions in my eyes?
When the knock comes, I am ready. Bag over my shoulder, I follow the dark-haired woman down the hallway. The small meal I consumed rolls in my stomach as we enter the elevator and ride in silence to the second floor. My escort's expression stays neutral. No smile. No look of warning. Nothing to give away the fate that has been determined for me.
The door at the end of the brightly lit hallway is open and my Testing official tells me to go inside. They are waiting.
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep them from trembling and walk inside the large room with my escort trailing behind me. There are at least a dozen Testing officials seated behind a large table. Dr. Barnes sits at the center. A small white envelope is on the table in front of him. His expression is unreadable as I walk to a solitary chair placed in front of the table.
As I sit, Dr. Barnes gives me a warm smile. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long for us to make a decision, but we wanted to get it right." Slowly, he takes the envelope, walks around the table, and comes to a stop in front of me. My heart thunders as he says, "I'm sure you're anxious to receive the results of your Testing, so I won't delay any further."
He lifts the envelope flap and pulls out a white sheet of paper. He stares at it for a moment as though weighing the judgment before handing it to me. My fingers fumble with the paper. It takes me several tries before I can read the single word printed in bold black print in the center.
Pass
I did it.
A smile crosses my face, and my heart skips. I hear murmurs of congratulations from the officials in the room. Dr. Barnes tells me how proud he is and shakes my hand. Then something pinches my neck and the world goes black.
I failed.
My fingers trace the five lines etched in my left arm as I study them in the reflector of my University student quarters. Three rooms — bedroom, living space, and bathroom — that have been assigned to me for the first phase of my studies. Signs that I passed my Testing. The most important achievement of my life. And yet, I remember none of it.
I must have tried to avoid the memory loss. And still I failed. All I remember is the trip to Tosu City in the black skimmer. A scruffy, mean-eyed boy tripping Malachi. My roommate and her corncakes. And then nothing until the moment when I find myself in a room sitting among what I can only assume are other Testing candidates. My eyes fly around the room, looking for familiar faces, as a gray-haired, bearded man in a purple jumpsuit climbs onto a lit stage. He gives us all a warm, delighted smile and says, "Congratulations. I am happy to say you are the twenty candidates who have been chosen to attend the University next year."
Surprise. Delight. Confusion. And then understanding. The Testing is over. I passed. Dr. Barnes tells us we will be moved from the Testing Center into our new living quarters as soon as the meeting is over. There will be a celebration afterward so we can get to know one another. But I already know one of the candidates. My heart leaps with joy as a pair of gray eyes meets mine. And when he holds out his arms, I fly into them — happy that a familiar face is here. I will not embark on this adventure alone. Tomas is with me.
That was almost three weeks ago. Tomas and I have spent part of every day together, exploring the city and learning about each other. Just thinking about seeing him again today makes my stomach flutter.
A knock on my door makes me jump. I roll down my sleeve, hiding the five jagged scars, and answer the door.
"Hey, you're not ready." Stacia's dark eyes narrow as she takes in my white tunic and brown pants. "You can't go to the party looking like that. What will everyone think?"
"The party isn't for another hour." I laugh. "Don't worry. I'll be appropriately dressed."
"You better be." She frowns before stalking off, but I see the smile lurking under the serious demeanor. Stacia's frown has kept most of the other candidates, including Tomas, at bay. But for some reason, I decided to talk to her and we seem to get along. I can't help thinking that we must have met during the six-week Testing period. Maybe our friendship began then and we are just continuing it now.
Closing the door, I decide Stacia's right. I should probably get ready for the party. After all, it is for me.
Between meeting University instructors, taking tours of the facilities, and moving into our apartments, none of us has had time to shop for new clothing. We've been given a few spare items from other University students, and Dr. Barnes has said we will be able to purchase new garments during the next few weeks. So I dress as usual in pants, but change into a borrowed blue shirt that covers my scars. I leave my hair down because Tomas mentioned that he likes it loose. As the only two Five Lakes Colony students who passed, we're naturally drawn to each other. But there is something more than just the talk of home. Something warmer and richer and more exciting than friendship. Perhaps it's silly for me to think our feelings might be love. But they might be. And now that The Testing is over, there's nothing to prevent me and Tomas from finding out.
Trays come. Trays are taken away. No news.
I relive my days in The Testing, looking for clues as to what could have propelled Tomas to take Zandri's life, and find nothing. While Zandri was brash and headstrong, I can't imagine her attacking Will or Tomas. She was friends with Tomas. She might have even loved him a little. And now she's dead. Tortured by my waking thoughts, I try to lose myself in sleep, but find Dr. Barnes and the Testing officials waiting for me there, too. One by one they evaluate the performance of the dead candidates.
Ryme. Nina. Malachi. Boyd. Gill. Annalise. Nicolette. Roman. Zandri.
A pile of bodies lies in the corner when the evaluators turn to me. Dr. Barnes shakes his head. He tells me I showed great promise. It's too bad I trusted the wrong people. Leaders cannot afford that mistake. He tells me I failed as another Testing official pulls out a crossbow, takes aim, and fires. The quarrel punches through my stomach, and I scream myself awake before I hit the floor.
Locked in a room with no human contact other than the official who brings my meals, I feel the tension gnawing at me. I pace for hours and then sit for hours more and stare at the walls, willing a decision to be made. But no decision is forthcoming, and a small part of me wonders if this waiting is also a test. Are Dr. Barnes and his friends sitting behind their screens, watching to see how we handle it? Do other candidates pace as I do? Are my nightmares a strike against me or does uninterrupted sleep show an undesirable streak of indifference?
I stare at the camera above, not caring if the officials see that I know it is there. Or maybe I want them to know. To see I am smart enough to figure out that they are watching. As sleep eludes me, I think about the candidates who have died, and the memory wipe that is coming if we cannot outsmart it, and wonder for the first time if the candidates who failed the first two rounds of Testing were eliminated or if the Commonwealth simply erased any memory of this experience. Over the past one hundred years, the United Commonwealth population has grown, but has it grown enough to eliminate dozens of its most promising citizens every year? And if those candidates aren't eliminated, where do they go?
After the morning tray has come and gone, I tire of the eyes that follow me and the ears listening to my awakening screams. Giving my audience behind the camera a small smile, I probe my bracelet, find the clasp and watch it fall from my wrist onto the bed alongside those that belonged to Zandri and Nina. I remove the second bracelet from my bag, place it with the others, then I take my bag and lock myself in the bathroom.
The feeling of being alone — really alone — eases some of the tension from my shoulders. I take a shower. I curl up on the floor and nap. With nothing else to do, I go through the items in my Testing bag. These are things I brought from home. Things my mother sewed. My father touched. My brothers worked with. Things that helped define who I used to be. No longer afraid of being judged by the cameras, I allow my tears to fall as I touch each one and hold it to my cheek, trying to recapture the person who first packed this bag. I miss the hope she felt. The optimism. The brightness of the future in front of her. If Tomas's pills don't work, will taking away the memories of The Testing bring her back? Can losing my memories truly wipe the shadow from my heart?
Maybe, and for a moment I allow myself to yearn for that blissful ignorance. Dreams filled with peace. A future free of too much knowledge.
I jump at the sound of a male voice and turn to see where it is coming from. It takes me a minute to realize the voice is speaking from the device clutched tight in my hands.
"The soil in sector four is showing signs of sustaining life, and the radiation levels are almost nonexistent. The new formula appears to be working."
Zeen. His voice is strong and healthy and so wonderfully familiar. I ache, hearing the sound of it. I must have hit a button that started a playback of Zeen's voice. The Transit Communicator is also a recorder.
"Tell Dad there are sick animals in sector seven. Might be from the new berries we cultivated there. We should run tests."
I remember hearing about that problem over dinner — a week or maybe two before my graduation. They argued, laughed, and debated the problem long into the night, even allowing me to add a few thoughts of my own. I felt so grown-up to be included. So ready to take on the world. How silly that seems now.
For a while I am content to listen to Zeen's voice as he records his thoughts on the sections outside of Five Lakes that my father and his team are working to revitalize. A disgruntled word makes me laugh. Mentions of Dad or my other brothers cause tears. And I wonder — how does the recorder work? I know the device can communicate with the one Dad has in his office, but I've never heard Dad mention that it doubles as a recorder.
It takes me a while to find the button. A small area in the back that looks to be a part of the casing but has been turned into something more. Something not originally designed to be a part of the device. Something created by Zeen.
The screwdriver on my pocketknife helps me reveal the rest of his handiwork. I can't help smiling as I admire my brother's ingenuity. A tiny black box has been nestled among the other wires and chips. By the way he spliced and connected the wires, I can see how he rigged the communication microphone to record voices and the earpiece to act as the playback speaker. All of it is done with seamless precision. Had I not squeezed so hard and mistakenly triggered the playback button on the back, I would never have recognized the recording device was there.
A knock startles me. Carefully, I slide the items into my Testing bag, go into the darkened bedroom, and open the door. The woman on the other side is holding a tray and wears a concerned expression. "Is everything okay in here?" she asks.
I guess my disappearance into the bathroom has not gone unnoticed.
"I'm fine," I assure her, but from the commotion coming from down the hall, I fear someone else is not. Has one of the candidates ended the tension like Ryme did? Though I should no longer care, I worry for Tomas. I can't help it. No matter how The Testing has changed him, he will always be the boy from home who was kind to everyone. I want him to live.
The Testing official hands me the lunch tray, tells me no decision has been made, and locks the door. For the first time, I don't mind the solitude. I eat the chicken swimming in a delicate tomato sauce and the fresh vegetables before once again closing myself off in the bathroom.
For a while I take comfort in my brother's voice as he lists the day-to-day tasks that need addressing. But the reality that another candidate may have died soon has me pacing the floor. Perhaps I should see it as one less candidate standing in my way to the ultimate goal. But I can't. To me it is one more promising mind whose fate will soon be forgotten. Like the others who will be forgotten. Unless someone remembers. If the United Commonwealth and the Testing officials have their way, no one will. At least no one who cares.
I look at the device in my hands and have an idea. It takes me a few minutes to figure out which series of buttons starts the recording device. Once I do, I begin to talk. In a quiet and often unsteady voice I remember Malachi. His smile. His shy demeanor. His sweet singing voice and his death. Ryme. Her corncakes. Her cocky attitude. Finding her hanging from the ceiling in our room. The first of the Testing murders. I tell of waking up in the box. Walking out onto the broken streets of Chicago. The crossbow quarrel aimed at me. My terror. How the gun kicked in my hand.
I find the recording device can only record so much. I have to pick and choose what I tell. I agonize over which memories to preserve. It breaks my heart when I have to rewind and erase a story to preserve a different one. They all deserve to be remembered, but only a few can. More than once my tears force me to stop the recording. My heart stings. My lungs burn and my throat is raw when the recorder is full. But the memories are there. As much as the machine will hold. For someone to learn and remember.
Will they send the device back to my parents if my candidacy is unsuccessful? I doubt it. But maybe I can ask Michal to get it to them if I'm gone.
With my pocketknife, I etch a small design in the back of the device before shoving it in my bag. I then pile my clothes and other belongings on top and wash the evidence of my efforts from my face. When the Testing official brings dinner, she again asks after my welfare. I assure her I am fine and take the tray. Before she closes the door she says, "A decision has been made. The next class of University students will be announced after breakfast."
Pass or fail, this will all end tomorrow.
CHAPTER 22
FOR THE FIRST time in weeks, there are no nightmares. Just dreams of home and a sense of peace and relief that this all will end soon. The knock at the door wakes me. A new tray with a request that I be dressed and packed in an hour. Someone will come for me.
I pick at the meal. Fresh strawberries. A thick, hot grain sweetened with raisins and walnuts. Tangy orange juice. Rolls thick with cinnamon icing. I try to enjoy it all, but a nervous tension begins to push aside my newfound well-being and I can eat only a few bites.
I fasten the clasp of my identification bracelet around my wrist. The second bracelet I place back on the strap of my bag. I think of my father and how he must have felt while preparing for his verdict. And I wait wondering if I will see Tomas before the officials remove our memories. Will he be able to pass me one of the pills? Will he see my newfound suspicions in my eyes?
When the knock comes, I am ready. Bag over my shoulder, I follow the dark-haired woman down the hallway. The small meal I consumed rolls in my stomach as we enter the elevator and ride in silence to the second floor. My escort's expression stays neutral. No smile. No look of warning. Nothing to give away the fate that has been determined for me.
The door at the end of the brightly lit hallway is open and my Testing official tells me to go inside. They are waiting.
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep them from trembling and walk inside the large room with my escort trailing behind me. There are at least a dozen Testing officials seated behind a large table. Dr. Barnes sits at the center. A small white envelope is on the table in front of him. His expression is unreadable as I walk to a solitary chair placed in front of the table.
As I sit, Dr. Barnes gives me a warm smile. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long for us to make a decision, but we wanted to get it right." Slowly, he takes the envelope, walks around the table, and comes to a stop in front of me. My heart thunders as he says, "I'm sure you're anxious to receive the results of your Testing, so I won't delay any further."
He lifts the envelope flap and pulls out a white sheet of paper. He stares at it for a moment as though weighing the judgment before handing it to me. My fingers fumble with the paper. It takes me several tries before I can read the single word printed in bold black print in the center.
Pass
I did it.
A smile crosses my face, and my heart skips. I hear murmurs of congratulations from the officials in the room. Dr. Barnes tells me how proud he is and shakes my hand. Then something pinches my neck and the world goes black.
I failed.
My fingers trace the five lines etched in my left arm as I study them in the reflector of my University student quarters. Three rooms — bedroom, living space, and bathroom — that have been assigned to me for the first phase of my studies. Signs that I passed my Testing. The most important achievement of my life. And yet, I remember none of it.
I must have tried to avoid the memory loss. And still I failed. All I remember is the trip to Tosu City in the black skimmer. A scruffy, mean-eyed boy tripping Malachi. My roommate and her corncakes. And then nothing until the moment when I find myself in a room sitting among what I can only assume are other Testing candidates. My eyes fly around the room, looking for familiar faces, as a gray-haired, bearded man in a purple jumpsuit climbs onto a lit stage. He gives us all a warm, delighted smile and says, "Congratulations. I am happy to say you are the twenty candidates who have been chosen to attend the University next year."
Surprise. Delight. Confusion. And then understanding. The Testing is over. I passed. Dr. Barnes tells us we will be moved from the Testing Center into our new living quarters as soon as the meeting is over. There will be a celebration afterward so we can get to know one another. But I already know one of the candidates. My heart leaps with joy as a pair of gray eyes meets mine. And when he holds out his arms, I fly into them — happy that a familiar face is here. I will not embark on this adventure alone. Tomas is with me.
That was almost three weeks ago. Tomas and I have spent part of every day together, exploring the city and learning about each other. Just thinking about seeing him again today makes my stomach flutter.
A knock on my door makes me jump. I roll down my sleeve, hiding the five jagged scars, and answer the door.
"Hey, you're not ready." Stacia's dark eyes narrow as she takes in my white tunic and brown pants. "You can't go to the party looking like that. What will everyone think?"
"The party isn't for another hour." I laugh. "Don't worry. I'll be appropriately dressed."
"You better be." She frowns before stalking off, but I see the smile lurking under the serious demeanor. Stacia's frown has kept most of the other candidates, including Tomas, at bay. But for some reason, I decided to talk to her and we seem to get along. I can't help thinking that we must have met during the six-week Testing period. Maybe our friendship began then and we are just continuing it now.
Closing the door, I decide Stacia's right. I should probably get ready for the party. After all, it is for me.
Between meeting University instructors, taking tours of the facilities, and moving into our apartments, none of us has had time to shop for new clothing. We've been given a few spare items from other University students, and Dr. Barnes has said we will be able to purchase new garments during the next few weeks. So I dress as usual in pants, but change into a borrowed blue shirt that covers my scars. I leave my hair down because Tomas mentioned that he likes it loose. As the only two Five Lakes Colony students who passed, we're naturally drawn to each other. But there is something more than just the talk of home. Something warmer and richer and more exciting than friendship. Perhaps it's silly for me to think our feelings might be love. But they might be. And now that The Testing is over, there's nothing to prevent me and Tomas from finding out.
