Graduation Day (The Testing 3)

I glance at the clock. It’s after nine, but still the Transit Communicator is silent. Forcing myself to eat, I contemplate how best to modify the frequency of the pulse radio to something not typically used by Commonwealth officials. The knot of worry in my chest dissolves as I focus on a problem I can solve.

Using the screwdriver part of my pocketknife, I remove the back cover of the pulse radios and examine the transmitters and receivers. The receiving frequency is easiest to modify. Just a couple turns of a screw and it will shift downward. The transmitting frequency is more challenging, since these pulse radios do not contain oscillators but rather use surface acoustic wave filters. To alter the frequency, I will need to swap the SAW resonator and several other parts.

I look through the items in my desk drawer, hoping to find what I need. But while I come up with a few pieces I can use, others are missing. The lab rooms downstairs will have those. I hope.

After placing the cover back on the radio, I put everything back in my bag and head for the door. Downstairs, the corridors are empty. The officials in purple are gone. Everything is as still as a tomb. I turn to the right and head down the hallway in the opposite direction of the common room toward the four labs we are allowed to use for our studies.

Labs 1 and 4 are occupied, telling me that not everyone has chosen to hide in their rooms. Treading as lightly as possible, I walk into Lab 2, put my bag on the metal counter, and walk to a set of small drawers to search for the items I need to create my SAW filter and additional components. Bits of copper. A small ceramic square. Small screws. I work quickly. My confidence grows as I solder metal, connect the wires, and put that radio aside to begin work on the next one. The second is easier, since I have completed this manipulation once. When I am finished, I speak my name into the first pulse radio’s recorder and press Send. Moments later I hear my voice address me from the other radio. It worked. The two are now functioning at a different frequency.

I start to work on the other two radios but then stop to consider my options. By making all the radios the same frequency, I can allow four people to send messages to each other. While this sounds like a reasonable idea, I’m not sure it is the best plan. Whatever communication I have with Tomas I want kept private. He is the only one I am sure is on my side. The way to keep what we say between us is to set the other radios to a separate frequency and modify mine with an oscillator so it can change between the two.

The work calms me. My mind empties of everything except equations to determine frequency. Creating the oscillator circuit. Adding the pieces necessary to allow mine to swing between the other pulse radios. The higher frequency I keep for Tomas. The lower works with the other radios. Who I might give them to or why is still to be determined. When I am done, I pack the radios in my bag and go back to my room proud of the job I have done. As I curl up on my bed with the Transit Communicator clutched in my hands, I can only hope Zeen is safe.

I awake with a start. The sun is streaming through my bedroom window. The Communicator lies on the bed beside me—silent. There is no way to know if Zeen tried to contact me last night and I failed to hear his call. I push the button on the side twice and wait for my brother to respond. When he doesn’t, I scramble off the bed

and check the time. It is after eight.

I take the Communicator into the bathroom with me as I wash the sleep from my face, and study myself in the reflector. With the tip of my finger, I trace the five scars on my left arm. While almost all the students from The Testing were healed of injuries and began their University studies unmarked, these could not be removed. The poison that infected me was too powerful to be healed with the available medicines. Now that my Testing memories have returned, I know how I received these scars and I am glad they remain. Professor Holt might believe that removing The Testing memories allows us to come into our studies with a better ability to focus, but while that might be true, she is wrong about the importance of knowing the choices we have made and what we have done.

I killed.

Not because I wanted to. But because I had no choice. Not if I wanted to live. Not if I wanted to help the others I cared about to survive.

I came to Tosu City unmarked. I thought I understood what leadership meant and what I would face if I was selected for The Testing. These five raised scars remind me how far I have come and how much I have changed. Because it is not just the outside that has been marked. Where my beliefs were once black and white, I now see shades of gray. My father must have seen those shades, too. He suspected what The Testing entailed. He could have made the choice to help me flee. He and the other leaders of our colony could have found a way to eliminate the Tosu City official before he had a chance to inform the four of us that we were chosen.

Looking back, I see so many things my father could have done had he wanted to keep me from The Testing. And still he let me come. Because no matter what he believed about the process of The Testing, he believed in this country and the strength of the leaders who run it. He made a choice to believe in this system despite its flaws. I think of the piece of paper that sits inside the bag I now slide onto my shoulder, the task I have been given, and my belief that The Testing must end before it is allowed to kill again. I will have to decide whether to pretend I am still the girl from Five Lakes who climbed into the skimmer on her way to Tosu City or to take the best of that girl and allow it to be forged into something new.

A faint clicking sound stops me as I start down the stairs. Zeen. Relief fills me. And when the sound comes again, I hurry back to my rooms, unlock the door, and pull the Communicator out of my bag.

I click the button twice in response and say, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What about you? I was worried when you didn’t answer last night. If everyone around here weren’t so jumpy, I would have come to check on you.”

“I can take care of myself,” I say. That I survived The Testing and everything the University has thrown at me should be testament to that. Still, it is nice to have my brother thinking about me and expressing a desire to protect, even though there is little he can do to keep me safe.

“Well, if you want to take care of yourself, you have to get out of there. Now,” Zeen hisses. “The girl I talked to last night says there are rebels on campus who Symon has been using to collect information. They’re also part of a plan to attack Dr. Barnes and other University officials from inside.”

“Michal told me there were rebels among the University students,” I reply. He was worried they were armed. He feared that if fighting broke out, they might start open warfare here on campus and that students might be caught in the crossfire. From what Zeen says, Michal was right.

“This morning Symon and Renatta spoke to everyone at camp. With the vote coming tomorrow and the attack scheduled to begin on Friday, we’re now under instructions to remove anything or anyone we believe could interfere with the rebellion’s success. If the rebel students are under the same orders, it won’t take much to convince them to come after you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I’m a colony student. They should know I’m on the side of shutting down The Testing. Removing me isn’t logical.”

“Logic isn’t what’s leading this rebellion, Cia. Emotion is. They want to end The Testing, but after investing their time and energy, what they want even more is to make Dr. Barnes and all those who were part of The Testing pay. They don’t care if they die as long as those they believe to be responsible for The Testing are dead, too. If they see you as a threat to victory, they’ll have no problem sacrificing you in order to secure the greater cause. Get out of there while you can. There’s nothing you can do to stop what’s coming.”

Yes. Yes, there is.

“Zeen—”

“Quiet.”

I obey the harsh whisper and wait. Metal bites into my fingers as I clutch the Communicator and wait for Zeen to speak again.

“Look, I mean what I said. Get Tomas and get out of there. He can help you stay safe until I get word to you about what is happening here.”

“I’m not going to leave unless you do.” If it would keep my brother safe, I would run.

“You have to get out of the city, Cia. This isn’t something you should be dealing with. Let me know when you’re out of harm’s way, and I’ll try to join you after this is all over. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. It might be hard for me to get somewhere private enough to speak, but I’ll contact you as soon as I am able.”