“No,” I answer honestly. “Growing up, I was taught that it’s impossible to know what the right thing always is. The best you can do is to try to do what you think is right for yourself and the people around you.”
Professor Holt stares at me for a minute as if trying to read hidden meanings in my words. Finally she says, “I have been told that you were absent from the residence twice today.”
Blood pounds in my ears. Cautiously, I nod. “I went into the city.”
“The first time was with Raffe Jeffries. Yes, I spoke with him earlier. He gave me an account of your outing. Perhaps you’d like to give me yours.”
What to say? I do not know the explanation Raffe gave Professor Holt for our leaving campus. If my answer does not match the one he gave, Professor Holt will question everything I have said thus far. And I have used my internship to cover my journey to the city this afternoon. I can’t use the same excuse for Raffe and me going out this morning.
Hoping Raffe didn’t tell an elaborate story, I say, “Raffe knows I haven’t had much of a chance to explore Tosu City. We ran into each other before breakfast and he volunteered to show me around.”
Professor Holt tilts her head to the side. “What time did you and Mr. Jefferies meet?”
Breakfast starts at seven-thirty. “Around seven, I think.” Most students don’t get up on the weekends until after the allotted time for breakfast has already begun, so the time I quoted gives less of a chance for her to question why other students didn’t see us. I can only hope the logic Raffe used to give his answer was the same I employed to create mine.
“Are you certain that time is accurate?”
I’m certain it is not, but I cannot change my answer now. Instead I force a laugh and say, “It might have been just before or just after. I wasn’t watching the time all that closely.”
“Mr. Jefferies said the two of you planned to meet this morning, but you implied it was a spontaneous trip.”
I feel color fill my cheeks and I clutch my bag as my mind races, trying to decide how best to explain the discrepancy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone hovering in the doorway of the common room. Turning, I lock eyes with him. His long dark hair frames his pale face and deep green eyes.
“Do you need something, Mr. O’Donovan?” Professor Holt asks. Her tone is clipped, indicating her displeasure at being interrupted.
Will doesn’t seem to be bothered by Professor Holt’s annoyance. Flashing a crooked smile, he shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the doorjamb. “No. I was just checking to make sure Cia was okay. I ran into Tomas Endress earlier, and he was worried that he hadn’t seen her all day. Don’t worry, Cia.” Will’s smile grows wider. “I didn’t tell him that you spent most of the day with another guy.”
He winks.
Frowning, I look down at my hands as though embarrassed by Will’s words. In reality, I feel relief as Professor Holt dismisses Will with a reminder that all students are to remain inside the residence until after breakfast tomorrow.
When she turns her attention back to me, I quietly say, “Tomas and I aren’t as close as we used to be, but I don’t want to upset him if I don’t have to. We’re both from Five Lakes and . . .” I shrug and take a deep breath. “I thought it would be better if he heard that my visit to the city with Raffe was spur of the moment instead of something we planned.”
My nerves jump as Professor Holt stares at me, her eyes unblinking behind her glasses. “It is always difficult to decide whether emotional attachment is due to shared experiences or to something deeper. If you aren’t careful, those kinds of attachments can cause distractions you don’t need. That’s only one of the many reasons I’m pleased Dr. Barnes continued the practice of eliminating Testing memories in successful candidates. The last thing we need is students who have formed personal attachments as a mechanism for dealing with stress.”
At Professor Holt’s mention of The Testing, I find myself recalling the information I read earlier today and her placement on the list of people marked for death. While I don’t like Professor Holt, the idea of deliberately ending her life makes my heart cringe. “Professor Holt, can I ask a question?”
She blinks behind her glasses. “Of course.”
I choose each word with caution as I say, “Do you think The Testing is the best way to select future leaders?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I heard people at the president’s office discussing The Testing. Since I don’t remember my experience, I thought I’d ask your opinion. Do you think putting candidates through The Testing is necessary?”
“We need strong leaders more than ever before. One wrong choice could cause everything we have rebuilt to collapse.” Dark eyes filled with conviction meet mine. “The Testing is not only necessary—in my opinion, the process is not nearly hard enough.”
The confidence in her stride as she walks out the door leaves no doubt. If Professor Holt has her way, even more Testing candidates will die.
Chapter 5
THE RESIDENCE HALL is quiet as I go to the dining area to get something to eat. I fill a plate and balance it as I walk up the two flights of stairs. Unlike most nights, no one is wandering the halls, which makes me wonder about Will’s arrival during my interview with Professor Holt. Why was he out of his rooms? Was he looking for me? His appearance helped me come up with a plausible answer to her question. Was that on purpose or just a coincidence?
I have not come up with answers to these questions about Will as I turn the key in my lock and enter my rooms. Pushing aside all thoughts of Will and whatever agenda he might have, I unfasten my bag and look at the things I took from the room on the fifth floor. Why I selected these items is still a mystery to me. Perhaps instinct had me grabbing anything that would give me comfort. Fixing, creating, and modifying technology has always been what I have done best. Since being assigned to Government Studies, I have felt removed from that part of me, just as geography and our different fields of study have made me feel cut off from Tomas. Suddenly, I realize that the pulse radios in my possession mean neither is an obstacle.
After the Seven Stages of War, scientists utilized the higher concentration of electromagnetic radiation in the air to restore communication with these devices. Pulse radios were designed to record chunks of information and, using pulselike signals, send them to receiving devices that are set to a corresponding frequency. Because any device set to the same frequency as the sending radio can receive the recorded message, pulse radio signals are not a secure form of communication. But if we pick frequencies unused by the Commonwealth and alternate them often, Tomas and I will have a better form of communication than has been available to us thus far. For that, I am willing to take the risk.
The other items from the fifth-floor room I have less of a sense of purpose about. I turn a small recorder over in my hands. It resembles the one I remember finding in my Testing bracelet. Perhaps it will be useful, but at the moment I’m not sure how. Setting this recorder aside, I look at the tracking devices. While I am unsure how to use them to my advantage, there’s always a chance they could be valuable.