The Testing (The Testing 1)

When no one objects, I open the envelope given to me by President Collindar and read:

The end is near. You’ll soon be done. Now it’s time to have some fun. Return to the place where you embarked on this quest. Induction awaits for those who complete one last test.

The place where we embarked on this quest? There are two possibilities. The zoo, with its booby-trapped monkey cages, or the University, where we boarded the skimmers that took us to the initial location. Since the clue implies our Induction adventure will be complete after we finish the final task, and since none of us wants to return to the zoo to face any other deadly inhabitants, we climb into the skimmer and head northeast to the University.

Damone knows this area best, so we let him navigate while Will steers through the well-tended busy streets of downtown Tosu. Being in charge seems to put Damone in a more cheerful mood, which is a relief. With one Induction task remaining, we need his cooperation.

Personal skimmers and a few old-fashioned cars cruis

e down the smoothly paved roads next to us. Kids play games on small patches of grass. Citizens with bags on their shoulders travel the walkways. I plug the coordinates I saved into the Transit Communicator and monitor our progress in case Damone is steering us wrong. We have just over four and a half miles to travel before we are back at the Government Studies residence.

The buildings lining the streets grow smaller. Some of the streets we pass are cracked. The roofs on the houses sag. The children playing outside wear frayed coats and shoes. Their cheeks are hollow. Their eyes resigned. I can see Enzo’s jaw tighten as we travel through those areas, which soon give way to larger houses in perfect repair.

“My parents’ house is just a few blocks down there.” Damone points to a block filled with large structures, green lawns, and young but healthy trees. “My school is over there.” He indicates a large fenced-in white building in the other direction. The windows sparkle in the sunlight. The paint looks new. Several kids in thick, colorful coats sit on the front steps of the school, laughing. Their faces are round and healthy. The difference between the schoolchildren and the ones we passed just blocks before forms a stark contrast.

“Why aren’t all the streets like this one?” I quietly ask Enzo.

After casting a glance at Damone, who is directing Will to go faster, Enzo leans forward and says, “Every sector of the city has a Tosu council member who requests resources and services for the people in that sector. The people on the streets I grew up on weren’t as friendly with their council member as people in Damone’s neighborhood.”

“What does that have to do with it?” I ask.

“Are you serious?” He gives a shake of his head. “Just because council members are supposed to represent everyone in their sector doesn’t mean they do. People look out for themselves and their friends.”

Enzo falls silent and stares out the skimmer window as the buildings speed past. I barely register the landmarks that announce our proximity to the University as I consider Enzo’s words. I grew up believing our leaders had learned from past mistakes. That, if nothing else, the Seven Stages of War taught us that life is fragile and precious. That those who survived have an obligation not only to repair the damage but never to repeat the actions that brought us to the brink of disaster. Distrust and anger caused governments to hurl angry words. Angry words led to bombs being dropped. A world destroyed.

Perhaps it is the size of the population that allows leaders to neglect some of those who look to them for assistance. In Five Lakes Colony, Magistrate Owens knows every citizen living within our boundaries. She might not know them well, but she has seen their faces and looked into their eyes. Would she show the same kind of leadership if she were appointed to oversee a city the size of Tosu? Would she be able to in a place where more than one hundred thousand faces look to the government for guidance and resource allocation?

During the early debates about whether to create a postwar government, many were vehemently opposed to the idea of a formal administration. They believed everyone should be allowed to survive in the way he or she thought best. Not forced to answer to the same kind of government that caused the wars in the first place. Some of the fiercest opposition went so far as to threaten the lives of those who were in favor of a new governing body.

Despite their tactics, I have to wonder if they had a point. Maybe it wasn’t just the leaders but the size of the governments that caused the world to falter. The bigger the government, the bigger the population it can claim. The larger the population, the less our leaders feel personally accountable to each citizen under their care. It makes it easier to sacrifice a few for the good of others. To make choices that might otherwise be unthinkable—like sending unknown kids from families you never met to The Testing to fight not only for a place at the University but for their very lives. Meanwhile allowing students from families you have known all your life to be held to a different selection standard.

Will’s celebratory cheer pulls me from my thoughts. I spot the large arching silver gate and the small plaque next to it that reads UNIVERSITY OF THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH. The sight fills me with a combination of pride, happiness, and fear. Pride that I have made it this far. Happiness that Tomas, the one person I love in this city, is close by. Fear at what is to come. Not just with this Induction, but everything that follows. This is not the end of the challenges I will face. There are more. Harder. Maybe deadlier. I must be ready for them all.

“Now that we’re here,” Will asks, “where do we go?”

“The Government Studies residence,” Damone says. “It has to be.” I can see Damone’s hands ball into fists as Will and Enzo look to me for confirmation. His fists stay clenched in his lap even after I agree. Will steers the skimmer past buildings that were created long ago. Glass. Stone. Brick. All constructed to encourage young minds to reach beyond what has already been done to something more. Something great.

The Government Studies residence comes into view. I see the earthquake-wrought ravine that circles the grounds, and my heart sinks as I realize that getting back to the residence won’t be easy. The bridge is missing.

Chapter 10

MY HEART DROPS into my stomach as I climb out of the skimmer and look at the gaping crack in the earth between us and our final destination. Twenty feet across. Hundreds deep. Near the residence, Ian and Professor Holt are among a group of other people waiting for us to reach them. On this side are four small boxes next to stacks of boards, ropes, and tools. The most sophisticated skimmers can hover up to fifteen feet above the ground. The one we’ve been using has been lucky to rise as high as my knee. However, sophisticated or not, the propulsion mechanism that makes all skimmers operate requires there be ground somewhere underneath. If a skimmer glides over a large hole, like the one in front of us now, the skimmer stops gliding. We cannot travel to the residence in our vehicle. If we are to get across, we will have to find another way.

While I’m surprised to find the bridge missing, I’m more disconcerted that I hadn’t previously noticed the bridge was built to retract. Ian never mentioned that when he first led us here. Slats and rails hang against either side of the ravine, waiting to be reconnected, and I wonder why University officials chose to build a bridge that could disappear at a moment’s notice. They couldn’t have built it specifically for the purpose of testing new University students. Which prompts the question: Did they build it to ensure people had to stay in or to keep unwanted visitors out?

A quick study of the bridge support nearest our position gives me a good idea of how the retractable bridge works. The mechanism on each support is designed to slide each half of the bridge backward on iron tracks when it is retracted. When it is raised, the system first elevates the bridge ninety degrees. Then a separate machine must slide forward to provide the support necessary to withstand the weight of both the bridge and those who cross it. Once both sides of the bridge are raised, they hook together seamlessly. At least, I never saw the seams. The looks on my teammates’ faces say I wasn’t the only one who missed that detail. I find that of little consolation when I realize the controls for the bridge are all located on the other side.

Enzo walks to the small black box marked with our number and pulls out the instructions for this task. “Come home.” He looks at the hole in the earth, the missing bridge, the supplies, and then back at the note. “Are they kidding? They want us to get across that? There’s no way.”

“If they want us to cross the ravine, there has to be a way to do it without getting ourselves killed,” I say with confidence. This isn’t The Testing. They won’t kill students in full view of other students. But they aren’t going to make it easy, either.

Will reaches into the pile and fingers a large length of thick rope. “We might be able to hoist this side of the bridge up with this.”

Enzo shakes his head. “The bridge is probably locked into place. But even if it isn’t, we aren’t strong enough to lift that kind of weight.”

Will frowns. “My brother and I helped a neighbor of ours build a rope bridge over a stream a couple years ago. We used trees to anchor the bridge on either side. The supports for the bridge that normally spans this are still here. We can use those.”

“Brilliant. Of course, the only way to use the anchor on the other side is to be over there to attach the rope to the bridge.” Damone rolls his eyes. “Which would eliminate the need for building the bridge in the first place.”