Independent Study

by Joelle Charbonneau

  “My friends call me Cia.”

  Professor Holt smiles. “Well, first let me congratulate you on your performance in the final Early Studies examination. Your scores were quite impressive. I hope you do as well in your regular classes when they begin next week.” She takes a sheet of gray recycled paper off the table next to her. “Because of your high examination marks, your class list is more challenging than the others. Please let me, your guide, or one of the other faculty know if you feel overwhelmed by the work you are being given. We are here to teach, but, more important, we are here to help.”

  Professor Holt pauses. Since no question has been asked, I simply nod my understanding. Giving me another smile, the professor says, “In addition to your classroom studies, you’ll also be assigned an internship that will, alongside your book learning, teach you how best to achieve success in your future career. Juggling both can be a challenge. Once again, if you have any difficulties handling that challenge, please let us know so we can alter your workload in a manner that will best benefit you, the University, and the United Commonwealth.”

  If I hadn’t seen Obidiah after Redirection, if I hadn’t listened to my own recollections of The Testing, I’d feel reassured by her words. I would believe the expression of maternal concern on Professor Holt’s face. But I did see, and the words on the recorder are etched in my memory. No matter what the course load, I will not complain. More, I will not fail.

  My resolve almost cracks as Professor Holt hands me my schedule. During our Early Studies semester, every student was assigned five courses. This schedule has me attending nine.

  Professor Holt leans forward. “I know the schedule looks intimidating.”

  Yes. But I’m not foolish enough to admit my concern. “I’m excited to see science and math classes. I assumed those were courses reserved for Biological and Mechanical Engineering students.”

  Professor Holt’s eyes meet mine. “Those who depend fully on another person’s knowledge to decide what is possible are easily manipulated. The most effective leaders utilize experts from all fields, but rely on none when it comes to making a decision. I think you will find your excellence in math and science will be more useful in your selected career path than you might have believed.”

  The thought makes me smile.

  “Do you have any other questions?” she asks. When I shake my head no, the professor reaches for an ornate gold bell on the small table next to her and gives it a ring. “I hope you enjoy your new residence and class schedule, Ms. Vale. And please remember, I am always here if ever you need assistance.”

  The purple-clad official appears at the doorway, signaling more clearly than the bell that the meeting is at an end. After thanking the professor for her time, I head for the door. It isn’t until I’m headed back up the stairs to my rooms that I realize that Professor Holt used only my last name as she said goodbye. Not Cia. Was that a deliberate choice? I believe so. Professor Holt is leaving it to me to determine whether she is a friend or if she is my foe.

  The door to my rooms is back on its hinges. Whatever they used to cover my window is gone. The Transit Communicator and the rest of my belongings are where I put them before the lights went out. The only difference is the envelope, stamped with my symbol, lying on the sitting room table. Inside the envelope are two pieces of paper, a small solar watch, and a gold key. One paper is a schedule that tells us what times the dining hall opens and closes for meals. It also says the kitchen has snacks and water available throughout the day for those who cannot make it to mealtimes.

  I put the schedule on the table, unfold the second piece of paper, and read:

  Government leaders must be prepared for all things at all times. For the next week, your suitability for this field of study will be tested. We hope you are ready to become one of us.—The final year Government Studies students

  I try the key on the outside door lock and find it to be a perfect fit. Putting the key in my pocket, I pick up the black solar watch. It is two inches in diameter. Silver solar storage panels around the face of the watch power the glowing hands in the center. A button on the back allows the user to change the time. Another operates an alarm. I compare the time on the watch to the clock in my rooms. They are a perfect match. As long as I keep the solar cells charged, I will have the correct time, no matter what test the final years throw at us.

  Turning the watch over in my hands, I try to guess what those tests could be. Michal said they change from year to year, so using his experience will not help me, but thinking of him brings back a memory from just before the start of The Testing, when we first arrived in Tosu City. Michal warned me to keep my things with me at all times. Advice I heeded. Since the note suggests I be prepared for anything at any time, I decide to follow that same advice now.

  Walking into the bedroom, I put my class list on the desk and grab my University bag. I attach the watch to the strap of the bag so the solar cells will be more likely to collect power. Inside the bag I place a change of clothes, an extra pair of socks, and Zeen’s Transit Communicator. Then I try to decide what else I might need. My pocketknife. A towel. Finally, a pencil and the note find their way into my bag. Then I hoist the bag onto my shoulder and head downstairs. It is time to do what Ian suggested earlier. If I want to be as prepared as possible, I have to get to know my fellow students. It’s time to make friends.

  A dozen students are in the fireplace room. Only a few of them are first years. The rest must still be cleaning up from lunch. Those first years present are holding class schedules in their hands, which makes me think they’ve yet to return to their rooms. I wonder if it is the desire for company or the fear of containment that has them seated here now. Looking around, I spot a solitary figure seated on a faded yellow sofa in the back corner and walk over.

  “Do you mind if I sit here?” I ask.

  Enzo’s dark eyes rise up to meet mine. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  Not exactly a warm reception, but I sit anyway and notice a bandage on his left thumb. “I’m Cia Vale.”

  “I know.” Enzo glances around the room and looks down at his class schedule.

  A quick scan of the room tells me why. All the Tosu City first years are watching with narrowed eyes. Maybe making friends isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. Still, the fact that Enzo is sitting here in the corner by himself leads me to believe he is not close with his Tosu compatriots. If I can get him alone, he might be willing to chat.

  Standing, I lift my bag onto my shoulder and look at the paper in his hand. “The rain has stopped. I’m going to go out for some fresh air.” Lowering my voice, I add, “They left notes in everyone’s room. The message doesn’t give much of a clue as to what they plan on doing with us for the next week, but you might want to check it out.”

  Without waiting for a response, I head for the exit, feeling everyone’s eyes on me as I walk out. While I have only been at the Government Studies residence for a few hours, escaping the pressure-filled building makes me sag with relief. The sky is tinged with gray and yellow—signs the storms are not over quite yet. I close my eyes, breathe in the damp air, and smile. The smell of the wet earth and trees helps me imagine that I am home in Five Lakes. In our backyard, sitting on my mother’s wooden bench, listening to the sound of the wind through the trees.

  Longing and hopelessness snake through me. Tears prick the backs of my eyes. The desire to be with my family, to return to a time before I was selected for The Testing and still believed that our leaders were kind and fair, is overwhelming.

  I walk across the wet grass to a small grove of weeping willows. The trees are tall. Old. The bark under my fingers, rough and brittle. The branches more twisted than those on the trees my father and brothers have planted back home. By their size, I would guess several of these are at least fifty years old, which means they were planted before the new strain of willow was created. The most recent version bettered the tree’s absorption of nutrients from the blighted soil. But eve
n before that improvement, the willows thrived. Of all the trees, they were the most resilient after the Seven Stages of War. Even where the soil was most corrupt, the willow found a way to survive.

  After taking the knife out of my bag, I strip part of the bark away from the tree and shove it into the side pocket of my bag. The salicylic acid in the bark can be used to help reduce headaches. After seeing my class list, I have a feeling I am going to need it.

  “Why did you tell me about the note?”

  I jump and spin around to face a belligerent-looking Enzo. So immersed was I in the memories of home, I missed the sounds of his approach. Or maybe he is just that light on his feet.

  “I thought you might want to know it was there.” The suspicion narrowing his eyes makes me add, “It’s not like you weren’t going to find it at some point.” Enzo concedes the idea with a shrug, and I notice the bag hanging from his shoulder. Giving him a smile, I ask, “How did you get out of your locked room so fast today? My guide said you beat me by seven minutes.”

  This makes Enzo smile. “I detached the hinges with this.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a thin, sharp knife. Dr. Flint is the only person I’ve ever witnessed using one. A scalpel. Clearly, Government wasn’t Enzo’s first choice either.

  “Is that how you cut yourself?”

  He looks down at his hand and frowns. “Yeah. I was reaching up to detach the top hinge. I figured moving a chair would take too much time.”

  Time I had to take because of my short stature. While Enzo isn’t tall, he stands five inches above me. “Were your friends upset with you for getting through the locked door first? They didn’t seem all that social.”

  Enzo stiffens. “Just because we all come from Tosu City doesn’t make us friends. Are you friends with everyone in your colony?”

  I laugh. “We might not all be best friends in Five Lakes Colony, but we are cordial. When you only have a thousand people, it’s easier if you all at least act like you get along.” I wait for the surprise I normally see when someone hears what colony I’m from, but it doesn’t come. “You already knew I was from Five Lakes.”

  “Part of our Early Studies was to study not only the colonies but the students they sent to Tosu who would be attending the University with us.” His smile is grim. “We may not have set foot onto campus until today, but our instructors have made sure we know about you.”

  “Why? And where were you studying?” Were they kept away from campus because we would have wondered why they weren’t part of The Testing? Or did the University officials want us separated for as long as possible to keep us off balance when we finally met?

  “We met for test preparation and our entrance exam at a school near the Central Government Building. And we studied you because our instructors wanted us to know our competition.”

  “I thought the point of being here was to learn for ourselves, and to learn how best to work together to help our country. Where a person comes from doesn’t matter.”

  “If you believe that, you’re not as smart as our instructor thought.” I see anger flash in Enzo’s eyes before he looks off toward the clouds that are darkening once again. And I find myself wondering what part of Tosu City Enzo is from. The clean, repaired section United Commonwealth officials helped us explore during the weeks immediately after The Testing or the side streets filled with shadows that I caught glimpses of. Is he one of the students Michal said is more dangerous because he had to fight harder to get here?

  Rain continues throughout the day and evening, which keeps all but those who have to attend class inside where it is dry. While I make attempts to converse with several other Tosu City first years, no one gives me more than monosyllabic answers before turning away. The older students aren’t much friendlier, claiming they don’t have time to talk. Michal’s directives to make friends and identify potential upper-year rebels aren’t going to be as easy to follow as he made them seem.

  During dinner, Ian asks Raffe, Kaleigh, and me about our class schedules. Raffe has six classes. Kaleigh five. When I say nine, the conversation at our table stops. The upper-level students give me speculative looks before resuming their dinners. Ian just smiles and tells us all to let him know if we have problems with our class load, but I catch the concern on his face in the glances he casts me throughout dinner. No longer hungry, I push my plate away.

  Will finds me in my room after dinner. He too has found conversation difficult among the other first years, but it doesn’t appear to bother him.

  “If they want to be jerks about it, so much the better.” He laughs and settles into one of the chairs in my sitting room. “It’ll make it more satisfying when we get better jobs after graduation.”

  Will has six classes on his schedule and has sneaked glimpses of several other students’ course loads. Thus far, the highest number he’s seen is seven, which doesn’t do anything to still the growing sense of dread I feel as we wait for whatever task the final years have planned next.

  Will also tells me what he’s learned about the other first years assigned to his guide, Sam. “Olive thinks a whole lot of herself. Probably because she’s the daughter of Tosu City’s Power and Efficiency manager. A fact she’s reminded everyone at our table of at least a dozen times.”

  Will rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but laugh. In Five Lakes, there isn’t much call for power management.

  “Griffin doesn’t say a whole lot,” Will continues. “But I’m guessing his family must be pretty connected. Olive giggles at anything he says, and the upper years make a point to say hello whenever they come near.”

  I wonder if Ian knows who Griffin is related to and if he’d be willing to share that information. When Will asks about Ian’s other two first years, I admit I don’t know much. “I think Kaleigh’s mother might be a University administrator.” During dinner Kaleigh complained about her class assignments, but assured everyone that the mistake would be dealt with the minute she could visit her mother’s office. Whoever made the error was going to be sorry. “Raffe’s father works in the Department of Education.” Which I only learned because two of the other students at our table mentioned it. From the way they talked, it was clear they were scared of whatever power Raffe’s father wields.

  When Will leaves, I go to sleep without changing clothes and dream of home. My mother bakes my favorite cinnamon bread. My brothers and I play cards at the kitchen table while my father sits nearby, poring over reports. Zeen wins a hand, opens his mouth, and shrieks. I jolt awake to the sound of sirens and a voice yelling down the hall for everyone to get out of bed. We need to be downstairs, ready to go, in five minutes. The next phase of our Induction is about to begin.

  Chapter 6

  THE CRY OF the siren drills my eardrums as I climb out of bed. I pull on my hand-me-down boots and my warmest jacket before slinging my bag over my shoulder. The watch on my bag reads four in the morning as I lock the door and hurry down the stairs to whatever awaits.

  Doors slam. Feet pound the halls above me as I step onto the first floor. Ian and the other guides are standing at the base of the stairs. Two of my fellow first years, Griffin and a boy named Lars, stand beside them. I was quick. They were faster.

  Standing beside Ian, I watch other first years race down the stairway. The siren goes silent as the last student arrives. Only five of them have brought their bags, but all have enough wits to have worn coats.

  “Good morning,” Ian announces. He climbs three steps, turns, and faces us. “There are two skimmers waiting across the bridge. They will transport you to your next challenge. Once we arrive at our destination, I will explain what is expected of you.”

  Ian turns on a flashlight and leads the way out the door. The hazy moon and Ian’s circle of light help us navigate our way down the wet path. I am careful to keep to the center of the bridge as I cross. While there are rails on either side, I do not want to risk a misstep.

  As promised, two skimmers like the one that brought me and my fellow Five La
kes Testing candidates to Tosu City are waiting on the other side. They are long and sleek and designed to skim above the earth, making them perfect for traveling across terrain broken and scarred by the Seven Stages of War.

  Since most of the first years pile into the front skimmer, I climb into the one in back. Soft lights along the ceiling illuminate the interior, which is tall enough for me to stand upright. Plush gray cushions line both sides of the passenger cabin. Near the back is a cabinet that in the skimmer Michal piloted over a half year ago was filled with snacks. To the left of the cabinet is a door that past experience tells me leads to a small bathroom. The one surprise is the windows. They are fitted with a black, opaque material that prevents anyone in the cabin from seeing out. Wherever the skimmer takes us will be a complete surprise.

  With that mystery in mind, I take the opportunity to slip into the small bathroom and close the door. On the other side I hear murmurs as students climb inside. Pulling open my bag, I take out the Transit Communicator and flick on the compass and positioning locator. The small machine hums and two green numbers light up the screen, giving me the precise longitude and latitude of my current location. I hit the Save button, turn off the device, and slip it back into my bag. The note warned me to be prepared. I am doing my best to comply.

  Hoisting the bag’s strap onto my shoulder again, I slip back into the passenger compartment and take a seat in the rear next to Will. Across the aisle is Rawson. While his hair looks as though it hasn’t seen a comb in the last twenty-four hours, his eyes are alert. Enzo sits next to him, looking down at the University bag balanced on his lap. He makes eye contact with no one as the skimmer begins to move.

  I can almost imagine the outlines of trees and the shapes of the buildings as the skimmer crosses from the University campus into the city. The door to the pilot’s compartment is closed, but the smooth movements of the skimmer tell me the pilot is seasoned at his job. The changes in direction are almost imperceptible. Some speculate on our destination, but despite the bravado, the cabin vibrates with nerves.