Independent Study (The Testing 2)

I step onto the bridge and peer down. This time I am not looking for Rawson; instead, I feel like I am looking for myself. Staring into the rocky void is like peering into a reflector of my emotions.

Shadows.

Emptiness.

A hole where once grass and flowers grew that has been transformed into a place where nothing thrives.

I close my eyes and see Rawson. Zandri. Malachi. My Testing roommate, Ryme. Other faces I have no names for, but whose empty eyes haunt me in my sleep. Lurking somewhere in the residence is Will. One who has been rewarded for murder and betrayal. How many others inside that building have killed without hesitation? How many have been rewarded for their treachery with the future leadership of our country? How can I face my fellow students each day wondering what horrors they are capable of?

The five scars on my left arm burn. The darkness of the void beckons, and for the briefest moment, I consider answering its call. I grip the steel railing and let the chill of the metal fill me. How easy it would be to let the emptiness swallow me. To find release from sadness at the bottom. To be welcomed by those I have lost and turn away from the problems I face now.

But I don’t. I take my hand from the rail and step back. This is one choice I will never make.

There was a time immediately after the end of the wars when the hopelessness of the scarred world led many to seek the peace of death. I understand better now the despair that can lead to that choice, as well as the courage it takes to fight. The vision it takes for scientists like my father to create hope in his lab and watch it die over and over again until finally it flourishes in the blighted soil. The strength it requires to turn from the easy path and face the hard.

I look at the University campus—a place built on hope and a promise that those who study here will make this world better. A promise I believe in and will find the strength and courage to fight for. Starting Monday, I will do what it takes to get the information Michal and those working in secret need to bring down Dr. Barnes and The Testing—no matter what the cost to me might be.

Chapter 13

FOUR OF US are missing.

“Induction Day is a day filled with hope. Today you, our new students, will officially be accepted into the Government field of study.” Professor Holt stands behind a small podium that has been placed under the willow tree near the Government Studies residence. Her hair is slicked off her face. Her scarlet-painted lips curl into an expression of geniality as she addresses those of us assembled here who are in her charge. First years stand in front. The rest of our fellow Government Studies students are behind us, ready to celebrate the entrance of our class into their ranks.

Or most of our class. Rawson is dead. Olive never returned to campus after her flight. Neither did the girl named Izzy who failed to finish Induction with her team. Those losses I knew about. But one student I expected to see is also unaccounted for. Vance—the blond boy and fourth member of Olive’s team—is missing. An entire team from Induction is gone. There are whispers that Olive, Izzy, and Vance left the University and returned home. For their sakes, I hope that is true.

“The Induction process was designed by the final years to show that not only will you rely on your own resourcefulness, but you will also need to trust and work effectively with others in order to succeed in the careers you have ahead of you. Those who cannot be trusted to consider the effects of their actions on others cannot be trusted to lead.” Professor Holt sighs. “Sadly, not all students who demonstrate the intellect required of Government Studies students also work well with others. We work hard to identify those students early in their careers so they can be Redirected into more appropriate fields. Because of this, only twelve of the sixteen initially directed into this field will embark upon studying it. It is our hope we will not need to reevaluate the twelve of you remaining in the future.”

First-year students shift beside me. The threat is unmistakable. Professor Holt’s serious expression is replaced by a wide smile. “Your guides have collected and turned in the bracelets that identified you as members of the University’s Early Studies program. It is my honor to replace them now with the symbol you will serve for the rest of your lives.”

She calls our names one by one and asks us to come forward. Griffin struts. Damone preens. Others show various forms of pride as they hold out their arm and allow Professor Holt to fasten a thick bracelet onto their wrist. When my turn comes, I am careful to keep a pleased expression on my face despite the way my nerves jump as Professor Holt reaches out for my hand. The silver and gold coiled bracelet is cold as it slides over my skin. There is an audible click as Professor Holt fastens the band around my wrist.

Will’s name is called as I take my place in line and study the bracelet. Gold and silver. The joining of the materials used for the colony and Tosu City Early Studies bracelets. Now the two types of metal are combined in a pattern that, like The Testing versions of the bracelets, makes it impossible to see where the band comes together. Fused to the center is a disk made of silver, outlined in gold. Etched across the disk is a picture of scales suspended from a bar, hanging in perfect balance. Streaking through the middle of the disk from the top of the bar to below the scales is a lightning bolt. My personal symbol combined with the symbol for justice.

After Enzo receives his bracelet, Professor Holt congratulates us all again before her expression turns solemn. “Though today is a day of happiness, I would be remiss not to remember the life of Rawson Fisk. He was a student of keen intellect with a love of history and a passionate desire to do whatever it took to improve the lives of his family and colony. He will be missed. But though his death is terrible, it is not without purpose.” Professor Holt’s tone changes from one of kindness to fervent conviction. “This tragedy demonstrates better than any classroom lesson that leaders can never let their emotions get the better of them. Cool heads and calm logic must always prevail if we are to succeed in restoring our country to what it was before the Seven Stages of War.”

I hear murmurs of assent behind me.

“We will hang a plaque commemorating that sentiment in the residence to make sure Rawson Fisk’s lesson is never forgotten.”

As Professor Holt invites us inside the residence for a small celebration, I look toward the ravine and the bridge that was once missing.

“Hey, the party is inside.”

Slowly, I turn to see Ian watching me. “I know. I wanted a few minutes to remember Rawson before I go in.”

The truth, but only a shade of it. “Professor Holt never mentioned the others. Were they Redirected?”

Ian looks over his shoulder at the residence. “I don’t know.” But I can see by the sorrow in his eyes that he does.

I finger

the band on my wrist. “Are we ever allowed to take these off?”

“Dr. Barnes insists on students wearing their identification at all times.” A fierce intensity shines in Ian’s eyes. “Dr. Barnes believes that the bracelet allows people you come in contact with to understand you are a future Commonwealth leader. More important, wearing your symbol demonstrates that you have accepted the future it represents.”

A compelling reason, but I doubt it is more than a shadow of the real one. Horror streaks through me. The Testing bracelet contained a listening device. I was not wearing one of these Inducted-student bracelets in the chicken coop, but Tomas was. Did officials hear our conversation? Does Dr. Barnes know Tomas remembers his Testing? Does he know that even though the two of us are separated by guilt and anger, we are unified in our desire to end the process that brought us here?

“Do you mind if I take a look at your bracelet?” Ian takes my arm and probes it with his fingers. “I thought the design looked a little different this year. See . . .” He uses his index fingers and thumbs to squeeze two spots on the band, and it clicks apart. “This one is thicker and looks a little heavier.” He refastens the bracelet with a nod. “They talked about replacing the recorder with a tracking device last year. One of the first years got turned around while returning to campus from his internship. He was lucky safety officials found him in an unrevitalized part of the city before a wild animal did.”