The Testing (The Testing 1)

It is all I can do to keep the discovery off my face. I don’t know why it should surprise me that there is a camera watching even when we are doing the most mundane chores like sleeping and getting dressed. But it does. Is this room alone being watched? Because I found Ryme? Immediately, I reject the idea. If they are watching one room, I am certain they are watching them all. The implication of that sucks the air out of my lungs. If there are cameras in every room, someone watched Ryme as she stripped her bed of the sheet. Tied it to her dress. Reasoned out the best place to affix it to the light fixture on the ceiling. They watched as she stepped off the chair. Saw her struggle against the rope, claw her throat in an attempt to free herself, and go limp as her body shut down.

They could have saved her. Instead, they let her die.

I force myself to appear calm as I walk over to the light switch and cast the room into shadows. Whoever is watching, I don’t want them to see the horror I feel. I bury my head under the covers and out of habit clutch my bag to my chest. I wonder if the people behind the screen are reliving Ryme’s death while they sleep tonight. It is mean of me, but I hope they are because I am even before sleep pulls me under.

Ryme’s blotchy red face and her glassy, blood-streaked eyes follow me into my dreams. Her voice taunts me with my inadequacies. She offers me corncakes and this time I take one and eat it. Each time I wake, I force myself to go still. Not to call out or thrash about. I keep my head under the covers just in case the camera can see more than I believe, and do my best to wipe my mind clean of the horrors before dropping into sleep again.

When the morning announcement comes, I am grateful to climb out from under the sheets. I go into the bathroom and study myself in the reflector. I look tired, but no more so than I did yesterday morning. Taking this as a good sign, I pull on my clothes and brush out my hair while scanning the bathroom for prying eyes. No cameras. At least none that I can see. The Testing officials must not be interested in our hygiene habits. I leave my hair loose around my shoulders, hoping it will pull focus from the fatigue in my eyes, grab my bag, and head down to breakfast.

Tomas and the twins are already seated when I arrive. Tomas’s face is filled with relief and he wraps me in a tight hug before I have a chance to sit down. As I sit, Tomas gives my plate a long look. In my effort to appear normal, I have piled it with bacon, eggs, sliced potatoes, fruit, and sweet rolls. I immediately shove a piece of bacon into my mouth to discourage questions about yesterday. It works until Zandri, Malachi, and their roommates arrive. Once everyone is seated, Tomas asks, “Is everything okay? We kept waiting for you to come back last night.”

They wait for me to reply. I replay Dr. Barnes’s words in my head. Did he mean for me to keep silent? I don’t think so, so I quietly say, “Ryme is dead. She killed herself last night.”

The Five Lakes candidates show various degrees of surprise. The twins sigh and give each other knowing looks. After a moment, Will says, “We figured it might be something like that. Our teacher warned us about the pressure. He was a Testing official for a couple of years and said there were at least two or three suicides in every Testing class.”

Ryme was one. I can’t help wondering who might be next. Judging by their silence, I’m guessing my friends are doing the same.

We talk about it a bit then concentrate on eating. I give some of my extra food to Malachi, who has definitely added on pounds since coming here three days ago, and shove a sweet roll into my bag. I don’t know if we are supposed to take food from the dining hall, but I figure if someone on the other side of the cameras objects, they’ll stop me. No one does.

Another announcement is made. We tromp to the elevators and are whisked back to the lecture hall. Dr. Barnes is once again up front. He smiles at everyone as they take their seats and congratulates us on finishing the first phase of The Testing. “The tests are currently being evaluated by the Testing staff. Because we are aware of your unique skills, each group has its own set of requirements to achieve a passing score. After lunch we will meet with the Testing candidates and inform them whether they have been passed on or whether their Testing has come to an end. Until then, you will have time to spend as you like—either in your rooms, the dining hall, or the designated area outside.”

Outside. The idea of fresh air lifts my spirits. Dr. Barnes tells us that all candidates going outdoors must stay within the fence surrounding the Testing Center. Breaking the rule is grounds for automatic dismissal from further Testing.

Candidates shift in their seats, getting ready to bolt for the door, when Dr. Barnes’s expression changes. There is sadness. And though I am prepared for his words, my breath still catches and my eyes mist with tears. “I am sorry to announce that Testing candidate Ryme Reynald took her own life last night.”

Some students gasp and cry out, but I notice more than one sly smile that says, One down. I try to remember the faces that go with those smiles just in case.

Dr. Barnes continues. “We know that this is a difficult process, but I hope that those of you who remain will talk to me or one of the other officials if the pressure becomes too much. We are here to help. Please enjoy your morning of relaxation. I wish you the best of luck this afternoon.”

Based on where we want to spend our morning, candidates are directed into one of the two elevators. The left goes up to our rooms on the fifth floor. All of us from Five Lakes Colony head to the right.

The sun is shining, the grass is green and sweet, and a light breeze is blowing as we step outside. Two officials in purple are stationed at the front door, but otherwise we have the large fenced-in area surrounding the Testing Center to ourselves. We can see the University buildings shining in the sun—some only steps away from the fence. The buildings and the knowledge they hold remind me why I am here.

Only about three dozen candidates opted to make the trip outside. Since most are finding spots in the grass in front, the four of us from Five Lakes head around the building to the back. There, we find several tall flowering trees and three benches next to a small pond. The ripples of clean, clear water and the sun shining down have a rejuvenating effect on me. While the others sit on the benches, I take off my boots and socks, roll up my pants, and wade in. That’s when I notice the metal piping in the middle of the water.

A fountain? I wade closer. Yes. I am certain of it. I wade around to the other side of the pond and find the power box nestled discreetly in a pile of rocks. The switch on the box says the fountain is on. So why isn’t it working? Could this be another test?

I drop my bag onto the ground and pull out the small hunting knife I brought as one of my two personal items. Flipping out the screwdriver, I take the cover off the box and look inside. None of the wires or connections appears to be severed. There are no black marks indicating an overload or a burnout. The switch is connected properly. The trouble must be the pump.

Back at the center of the pond, I lean down and peer through the clear water at the pump. It’s compact and looks undamaged. I consider removing it, but realize there is someone better equipped for the job. Someone who installed an entire irrigation system at his parents’ farm.

Tomas is more than willing to leave his bench and take a look. Zandri and Malachi laugh at us as we poke around the pump, but after a while they fall into quiet conversation, leaving Tomas and me to our own devices.

Tomas thinks the problem might be the impeller. I guess the motor. We decide to remove the pump to find out who’s right. Tomas uses my knife to unscrew the pump from its base, and we head to the shore. A few minutes later, we have the cover off and I give a shout of victory. The impeller is perfect. The motor has a loose connection. I tinker with it for a while and think I have the problem licked. Tomas puts the cover back on and installs the pump back in the pond. Minutes later, water shoots into the air, soaking us both.

Problem solved.

We lie on the grass, letting the sun dry our clothes, and I try to hang on to the happiness I feel whenever I make something work. I twist the bracelet on my wrist and use my fingernail to probe for the clasp as the four of us talk about our families and what might be happening in Five Lakes Colony right now. Zandri gets a faraway look in her eyes. She is missing home. I am too, and I can’t help but wonder if all four of us will still be here to talk of home tomorrow.

I think I have found where my bracelet fastens when they call us to lunch. As I poke one of the metal segments with my knife, I hear a click that tells me I am right. I consider mentioning it to the others, but they have already started toward the building. Carefully, I refasten the bracelet as I walk to the other side of the pond and hit the switch. The fountain gurgles and stops. They might have power to spare here, though I can’t help but heed the training I’ve had all my life. Waste is unnecessary. Tomas is waiting for me as I hurry to catch up. The warm approval in his eyes makes my heart skip several beats.

While the last two meals have been filled with chatter, the atmosphere at lunch is subdued. You can see the tension in everyone’s eyes as they stare at the clock hanging on the wall behind the buffet. No one knows exactly when the results interviews will begin, but we know they will start soon.

Everyone leaves food on their plates. I shove an apple into my bag as the twins try to keep the mood light by telling jokes. Everyone pretends to laugh.

The loudspeaker crackles. “Please return to your sleeping quarters. When your name is called, quickly exit your quarters with your belongings. An official will escort you to your designated results room. Best of luck.”

Chairs scrape against the floor as candidates head for their rooms. Our table is the last to rise. I look from face to face. Tomas. Malachi. Zandri. Nicolette. Boyd. Will and Gill. The chances of us all making it to the next round are small. We say nothing. Wishing each other luck will not change the work we have already done—the results that have already been determined. So we squeeze hands and say we’ll see each other later, knowing full well the words are a lie.