The Testing (The Testing 1)

WE SIT IN the same classroom we were tested in yesterday. Waiting. Twenty students selected from the eighteen United Commonwealth colonies. Ready to learn how we will help rebuild our country.

I glance around the room. Most of my fellow students I’ve come to know. Will, who wants to teach. Stacia, who hopes to study government and law. Vic, a large redheaded boy from Stacia’s colony, whose ambition lies with healing broken bones. A willowy brunette with waist-length hair, Kit, who flirts

relentlessly with Tomas even as she tries to edge him out of the top spot for Biological Engineering. A boy called Brick claims he’s happy to study whatever the United Commonwealth finds he is best suited for. Over half the students in this room are interested in being a part of the government in order to shape our country’s laws. The one thing we have in common is our realization that we control nothing.

I hold my breath as Professor Lee walks to the front of the class holding a clipboard. My heart hammers and I try not to squirm as he says, “In my hand are the test results for your examination. Your name will appear in alphabetical order on this sheet. Next to your name will be an indicator as to whether you have passed and been assigned a field of study or have failed and are therefore Redirected to a field outside the University’s scope. All students who did not receive a passing grade will meet a United Commonwealth official outside their residence at noon. That official will escort you to a location where you will discuss the next step in your career.”

My pulse quickens. Is this part of the script every year, or has someone in our class failed this test?

There isn’t time to ask as Professor Lee continues. “For those who passed, your designated field of study will be listed after your name. Tomorrow, you will be met by your course of study’s academic adviser. You will be assigned to a student guide, who will help you move into your designated field of study’s residence hall. You will have a week to settle into your space and get to know the people sharing your career path before your studies begin. I look forward to seeing many of you in my classes.”

Professor Lee turns, hangs the clipboard on the wall behind him, and walks to the exit. When he reaches the door, he looks back. “I congratulate you all on your achievements thus far. I know you will do great things in the future.” After one last smile, he walks out.

I’m not surprised that Stacia is the first one out of her seat. Chairs are pushed back, several of them overturned, as my classmates rush to the front to see what fate has in store. Someone gives a whoop of excitement. Anticipation laced with fear tingles up my spine. Slowly, I rise and walk toward the list.

At five foot two, I am the shortest girl in the class. Since I was the last to leave my desk, I find myself in the back of the group. Though I stand on tiptoe and crane my neck, the list remains hidden from view. But I can see the other students’ faces clearly. Will getting slapped on the back by a short, dark-skinned boy named Rawson. Kit giving Tomas a big hug and keeping her arms around him even as he tries to pull away. Stacia stalking to the door. The tears glittering in her eyes send cold fear up my spine. Did she not get the area of study she wanted, or did the unthinkable happen?

Weaving in between bodies and finally pushing a grinning Will out of the way, I come face-to-face with the list. It is organized in alphabetical order by last name. I shift my eyes to the bottom, look for my name, and find it.

Vale, Malencia—Pass—Government

I close my eyes, take three deep breaths, and open them again. The words haven’t changed. For some reason I can’t comprehend, I have been assigned to the field of study I least want to pursue.

There must be a mistake. I fight the urge to run after Professor Lee and beg for an explanation. Did I not choose the correct words in my final answer? My skill lies in mathematics and in manipulating metal and wires, not in doublespeak and carefully constructed phrases. Why would the University administrators assign me to the area where I am most certain to fail?

Tears lodge in my throat but go no farther. I will not let them fall. Not here. No one will see my disappointment. Not the administration. Not my fellow students. I refuse to let anyone know how hard I am fighting to keep my breath even and my hands unclenched. They will only see joy that I passed.

Curving my lips into a smile, I read the rest of the results and look for the names of my friends. I find Tomas first and grin for real. Biological Engineering. Pride and happiness shimmer through me. I look for him in the crowd and find him standing two feet away. I throw my arms around him and squeeze tight. The professors have made the correct choice. He will not disappoint.

Holding Tomas’s hand, I find Stacia’s and Will’s names back to back. Medicine for Stacia. Government for Will. Like me, neither received their preferred course of study, which explains Stacia’s unhappiness. But they have both passed. Which is not true for all of my classmates. My personal disappointment fades. Beside Obidiah Martinez’s name is one word: Redirected. I cannot help but wonder what consequences that word will bring.

It’s the first question I ask Tomas after we leave the classroom and go to a spot outside where we are least likely to be disturbed. I can tell Tomas would rather talk about how I feel about my own test results. Once I assure him I’m fine, he says, “I’m guessing he’ll get assigned to a tech team here in the city or sent to one of the colonies to help with construction. Don’t you think?”

I’m not sure what I think. Obidiah isn’t a friend. In fact, I don’t think he could claim that standing with anyone here. A few have tried to engage him in conversation, including me. A week after arriving on campus, I saw him sitting by a tree, looking off into the distance. While his powerful build, fierce expression, and exotic-looking braided hair would normally intimidate me into keeping my distance, the sadness I saw in his eyes had me walking toward him. The moment I said his name, his expression changed. Sadness was replaced by anger. He demanded I leave. I did. The experience was enough to keep me from repeating the overture. Now I wish I had.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tomas asks as we walk back to my residence. He stops and looks down into my eyes. I feel the shield I’ve built against my emotions start to crack, and I bite my lip. Tomas touches my cheek and says, “If it’s any consolation, I think they made the right choice.”

The words punch the air from my lungs. “You don’t think I’m good enough for Mechanical Engineering.”

Tomas’s hand touches my shoulder. I try to shake him off, but he holds fast. “I think there’s no one I’d trust with the direction of our country more. Government isn’t always just, and it isn’t always fair. But it should be. I trust you to try and make ours both.”

His words and kiss chase the doubts into the shadows, but they return when he leaves to pack for tomorrow’s move. Tomas has faith in me, but I am not certain I can return his trust. Not in myself. Not in him. Not in anything.

Standing in my Early Studies quarters, I try to decide what to pack first. Since The Testing, I’ve acquired very little. Barely enough to warrant taking one of the additional bags they provided for the move to our new quarters. Just a few extra clothes, a couple of books, and a small vase of dried flowers. The flowers were a birthday gift from home, although everyone thinks they came from Michal, the Tosu City official who escorted me to The Testing. Not even Tomas knows the truth, since I don’t want to risk trouble for the official or my family.

Today, the vase makes me think of my father. As I hold it, tears begin to fall. What would he think of the field I’ve been assigned? Would he be as confused as I? University administrators directed him into genetically manipulating plants. The evidence that their judgment was correct is cradled in my hands. My father is a genius at making growing things thrive. The passion he feels for his work is one of the qualities I most admire about him. I always assumed he’d made the choice to help revitalize the earth. I hadn’t realized the decision had been made for him, and I have to wonder—if he had been the one doing the choosing, what would his choice have been? Was he, like Tomas, directed into the field of his passion, or was he like me?

Wiping away my tears, I dig into the mattress and pull the Transit Communicator from its hiding place. Bile rises in my throat. The stories recorded on the Communicator speak of a testing process run by the United Commonwealth Government that is far from fair and just. Can I be an active part of a system that encourages Testing candidates to kill and be killed? Does the end result—my father’s amazing work with plants and the hundreds of br

eakthroughs created by University graduates—justify the means? These are questions I cannot begin to answer until I learn whether the words I recorded are real or imagined.

Since all successful Testing candidates have their memories of The Testing removed, it is impossible for me to determine what really occurred during that time. But if I am clever, I can find a way.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand—11:04 a.m. According to Professor Lee’s instructions, Obidiah will meet a University official outside this building at noon to embark on his new career path. While learning Obidiah’s fate will not tell me if the recorder’s stories are true, it will give me an idea of what the University believes is an appropriate punishment for failure. If it is anything like the stories on the recorder, I will have the answer I’m seeking.

I wrap the Transit Communicator in a towel and shove it in between the folds of clothes I have already packed. Then, grabbing a book, I lock my door and head downstairs. Will, Vic, and a couple of my other classmates are tossing a ball in the open space next to my residence. Will waves me over, but I shake my head, raise the book I’m holding, and keep moving.

Since Will and the other colony students are on the left side of the residence, I walk toward the two-story gray stone structure to the right—the Earth Science building. Tomas and I have often used the bench near the entrance to study, so no one looks twice at me as I sit on the cold metal and pretend to read. From this vantage point, I have a clear view of the walkway that leads from the Early Study residence.