Our small line of boys and girls was merged into a larger line as teenagers filtered in from other landing bays, until there were about fifty or sixty of us. Each of us was wearing our grey uniform with our tree emblems printed on the front. A Guardian was facing us as we were guided through a large set of carved, wooden doors. “Take your place at a table and be silent.” He said it about three times, repeating himself as more of us entered the room. His voice echoed around the vast hall, which, once everyone was seated, was still two-thirds empty. I guess, years ago, there must have been more bodies to fill the space.
The Guardian stomped his foot once and called attention.
“Who are we?” he barked.
“Citizens of the Woodlands.” The room echoed with the combined, unsure voices of sixty or so terrified teenagers. And I joined them. For once, I didn’t want to make up my own version. All my cheek had evaporated into tiny particles that clung onto the edges of my clothes like germs. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t as scared as every other kid in here.
“What do we see?” he said threateningly, his eyes squinting like he was trying to sift out the troublemakers early.
“All kind.”
“What don’t we see?” He scanned the room, connecting with different eyes of different colors but all with the same wide bewilderment reflected in them.
“Own kind,” everyone said.
Then one kid yelled out “Own kind” out of time with the others. The Guardian marched over to him and stood over his desk for the rest.
“Our parents were?” he asked the boy.
“Caretakers,” the boy whimpered.
“Our allegiance is to?”
“The Superiors. We defer to their judgment. Our war was our fault. The Superiors will correct our faults,” the boy muttered deeply to the top of his desk.
“What was that?” the Guardian said, leaning on the boy’s hand with his baton, pressing it hard across the boy’s fingers.
The boy winced but didn’t cry, “The Superiors. We defer to their judgment. Our war was our fault. The Superiors will correct our faults.” He yelled like the words couldn’t get out quick enough.
“Right!” the Guardian said in a voice like snapping shears. He released the boy’s fingers and held up his baton, scanning the desks with it. “And this is why we do the Test,” he concluded. He stomped back to the front to face us and motioned to the other Guardians who were standing against the wall.
I felt like I missed something. There were a few confused faces, some shuffling in chairs, someone coughed. I turned around to find his face. Joseph looked as puzzled as me. He shrugged his shoulders conveying his uncertainty. I didn’t realize we would be doing the Test straight off. I was hoping I might have some time to prepare. This was to decide the rest of my life. I needed to get it right.
The Guardians walked through the rows of desks handing out stacks of colored paper and pencils, their heavy, black boots sending vibrations across the polished wood floor. The man at the front kept talking. Pulling his glasses over his nose when he read and pushing them into his hair when he was looking at us.
“This is the written part of your test. Answer the questions honestly. If you answer dishonestly, we will know and you will be punished. There is no time limit. You may start as soon as you receive your packet. Raise your hand when you have completed each colored sheet and a Guardian will collect your answers.”
I stared down at the stack of paper. So this was it, my life in a packet. I shrugged and started. Pink first. The questions were innocuous to begin with. ‘Do you like to be outdoors?’ or, ‘Do you enjoy a challenge?’ As I worked my way through, the questions became more detailed, more specific. They asked for answers to scientific questions like ‘how does the liver metabolize fat cells’. They were all multiple choice, and the answers all sounded the same to me, so I just picked one. I did try my best to answer the questions honestly. I was mindful of my habit to be sarcastic. I didn’t want to end up shoveling poo in a pig farm because I joked about loving the smell of slops in the morning.
I put my hand up when I finished and the Guardian collected my last paper, perusing it carefully, making sure I had answered every question and ticked every box. He lifted his hand, indicating for me to stand. He scanned my wrist and then a barcode on the papers. I looked around and everyone was still writing, heads down, scribbling frantically. I had finished first. I was sure this couldn’t be a good thing. I was very worried I had missed something important, rushed through something I shouldn’t have, but it was too late. I was already being ushered out of the room and taken to the next stage of testing.
I actually enjoyed the next part. I was brought to a room full of various stations, fluorescent lights bearing down on me, giving everything a too shiny, too bright kind of glow. On each table were different puzzles to solve. There were boxes made of wood, intricately carved into different segments that we had to pull apart and then put back together. There were mazes to solve and scenes to reconstruct from memory. Again, at the end of each task they scanned my wrist and then entered information into their readers. I found I could do these easily, feeling satisfied at the end that this, at least, I could do.
The last part was harder. It was an all-encompassing physical test. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was shining down on the grass, which was so green it looked like candy. It was hard to believe that this morning I was home, staring at myself in the mirror.
We were tested on strength, agility, flexibility, speed, endurance, vision, and hearing. I did ok in most of the categories, except for flexibility. Sitting in the wet grass with my feet planted flat against a vertical plank of wood, I was told to touch my toes. I strained but I could only reach halfway down my shins. The guardian hovering over this station scowled at me and told me to try again. When I had the same result, she made me bow down while she pressed hard against my back. “Try harder,” she snapped. I wanted to snap back at her and tell her I was not a tube of toothpaste she could bend and squeeze, but I let her push me until every muscle in my back was stretching and screaming at me to release. She finally stopped pushing and grunted as she wrote down my results. My body sprung back like a rubber band and I moved quickly to the next station, worried she was going to try and tie my body into a bow if I hung around for too long.
The Guardians watched our every move, scanning, ticking boxes, frowning; making us start over if they weren’t satisfied it was our best effort. I watched Joseph when I could. He, of course, was excelling at everything, as I knew he would. He was strong, agile, and undertook each task with ease. I was surprised to note that he wasn’t that fast though. I guess no one’s perfect. He looked focused and intense as he bent down to pick up the various weights handed to him, his blond curls falling down over his brow. I don’t think his head turned my way once.
When we were finished, we were told to sit on the benches bordering the large, grassed field and watched the rest complete their tests. Girls and boys separate. No talking. We all just stared out into the green, watching our companions push themselves to their limits. I wondered if I should have tried harder but I never wanted to be placed in a physical, laboring type class. All was quiet until we saw one girl throw down her weight and shout at one of the Guardians, “I can’t do it! I’ve already tried twice, stop asking me!”
It was so fast. Blink and you would have missed it. Menacingly swift and efficient, the Guardian whipped out an extending metal bar from his belt, cracked the back of her knees so that she fell forward, and then struck her with full force on the back of her neck. I’m sure I heard it snap and she fell to the ground, lifeless. I heard sharp intakes of breath and a few hushed whispers. This was to remind us of our place. This was not to be taken lightly; this was not going to be enjoyable. The Superiors were ever-present and ever cruel. One mistake and your life could be forfeit.
“You two there,” the Guardian pointed to two boys who were working close to the girl. “Pick her up and take her to infirm
ary, from there they will direct you to the crematorium.” The boys moved towards her but hesitated, unsure of how to lift her, scared to touch the body. “Don’t just stand there. She’s not hurt—she’s dead—just pick her up!” The boys picked her up gently and started walking towards a building at the back of the grounds that had a red cross over the door.
“Wait!” The boys paused. The Guardian walked over to them, held up the girl’s limp wrist, and scanned her number. “Ana Keffi,” said the computerized voice. The Guardian moved his finger this way and that until the word “deleted” was spoken by the reader. I shuddered. Their cruelty shocked me still. Even after everything I had seen, and experienced myself, I couldn’t believe that human beings could act in this way. I was close to being sick. “Back to it!” he yelled. Everyone returned to their activities, more silent and more serious.
When everyone was finished they asked us to form lines, boys to one side and girls to the other. Two female Guardians dressed in black skirts and wide-shouldered jackets marched over to us. They looked very similar, light brown hair pulled back into a tight bun pinned under their hats. The only difference was the shorter woman seemed less tidy. They told us to follow them, the untidy one hitching her tights up as she walked. I watched as three male Guardians led the boys around the edge of the field, following the bend of the low wall that edged the garden until they were out of sight. I tried to catch Joseph’s eye but he wouldn’t look up. I watched him until he disappeared around the bend.
We followed the curve of the garden wall in the opposite direction until we reached a platform. We waited there in the line, as a whisper quiet train pulled up. Everyone still seemed on edge after what had happened, and of course, there was no talking. I walked right at the back of the line as we boarded the train and ended up in a rear carriage with only one other girl on it. The train whizzed away from the platform and rounded the bend.
I peered out the window at the garden as it rushed past. It was thickly wooded from the outside, but through the trees I could see glimpses of other beautiful plants. As we continued I caught sight of what appeared to be pens—I think I saw a goat, and some other animals that I wasn’t sure of the names. We stopped suddenly and I bumped into the seat in front of me. The girl shot me a reproachful glare as I stood up to disembark the shooting bullet of a train. I didn’t like it. It felt like we were going too fast with not enough time to take in the scenery, but maybe that was the point. We weren’t here to sightsee.
The tidy woman turned to face the line and said, “These are your living quarters for the next two years. My name is Mischka Baron and this is Stasia Krepke. You may address us as Guardian Baron and Guardian Krepke.”
She went on to read from a very long list of rules. Things we could do and things we couldn’t do, mostly the latter. I was surprised to hear that we were afforded some leisure time and quite a bit of freedom to walk the grounds. I was itching to get into that garden. Visiting the boys’ quarters was strictly forbidden. We were allowed to socialize, to a point, but there were curfews. We were reminded that we were always being watched and any inappropriate behavior would be dealt with severely. The very fresh memory of the curled up, lifeless girl flashed before my eyes. I prayed there would be a list of these rules on the wall somewhere because as soon as she said we could wander around the grounds, I had only been half-listening. Looking with longing to that wooded area.
We were led through big double gates and I realized we were to be living in one of the eyes of the surprised face we had seen from the air. The walls were as a high as those in Pau, shutting everything out, keeping us contained. Guardian Baron gestured to the relevant buildings as we passed them. The sun was going down and a low chill was floating across the grass. There were bathrooms, laundry, and lounge areas. We were required to do our own laundry and there was a schedule for when we were allowed to shower. Through to the big main building there was a list on a sidewall. There were three levels and our names and numbers were printed on the list next to a level and room number. There would be girls from last year, and the last four quarterly intakes up until this one, living together in the one building. All the first years were on the top level. I felt young. Everyone else was eighteen years or older.
Once we got to the top, we were led along a hallway and through more grand, double doors. It was a vast, open room with rows of beds. The polished floorboards were scuffed and worn from the hundreds of boots that must have walked up and down these rows over the years. It smelled musty and it was freezing cold. I could see my breath as I exhaled. On each stretcher bed there was a number stuck on a pile of blankets, bedclothes, pajamas, and our new uniforms, all grey-green. We would no longer wear the tree emblem from our hometowns. We were wards of the Classes and our new uniforms bore a simple emblem of eight concentric circles embroidered in black. I used to think my room was pretty basic; this was a whole new level of simplicity. Completely devoid of privacy.
As we walked around trying to find our beds, the great metal lights hanging from the ceiling shone like spotlights, swinging slightly from the vibrations of shuffling feet on the floor. I found my bed, which was thankfully by a window. I sat down and surveyed my neighbors. Scared, nervous girls, missing their parents, and trying so hard not to end up like the girl in the yard. I felt sure that the over-reaction to her subordinance was a message, a warning to all the newcomers not to step out of line. This was going to be very hard for me.
“Change into your uniforms and be ready for dinner at six o’clock,” Krepke shouted, a little too loudly. Baron stared at her disapprovingly. “I mean, errr, umm, 1800.”
We changed and I noticed we had been provided with a small toiletries bag with some basics in it. I decided I would go brush my teeth and fix my hair before dinner.
When I arrived at the bathrooms, there were other girls in there. Three of them were talking about the girl, Ana.
“It’s awful but she shouldn’t have yelled like that. She made us all look bad,” the tall, blonde one said.
“I suppose,” piped a small mousy girl, “but I think the punishment was rather harsh.”
“Rather harsh?” I was, as always, shocked by people’s reactions to the violence. “I think that’s an understatement. She’s dead—that’s not a punishment, that’s an execution.”
The blonde girl looked down her nose at me, opened her mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. Things were not going to be different for me here. I was still viewed as the troublemaker, someone you didn’t want to be seen standing next to, let alone be seen speaking to. They left, chattering about allocations and what they were hoping for.
I stared at myself in the mirror, my odd eyes staring back at me. My hair was a mess from the helicopter and the physical tests. I brushed it out and left it down. I looked tired, but then so did everyone else. The clock in the bathroom said 17:55. I quickly ran upstairs, threw my bag on my bed, and flew out the door. The dining hall was back in the main circle. So I waited for the train to speed me back.
When I arrived at the dining hall, everyone was already seated. They all stared at me as I looked for somewhere to sit. I searched for Joseph. He was sitting in the back with a group of older boys, laughing and joking. Of course, he had already made friends. I tried to make eye contact but he wouldn’t look my way, although I’m sure he saw me—everyone saw me. I sat down at the end of one of the long, wooden tables next to another group of boys, avoiding the sour girls I had met in the bathroom. The boys smiled and shuffled down to make room for me. They introduced themselves. There was a tall boy with light brown hair called Serge. He was goofy looking, like his arms and legs were too long for his body. Across from me was a handsome boy with dark hair and dark skin named Rasheed. He was younger, like me.
“Wow, amazing eyes!” he said. I glared at him but he just smiled back at me. “Whoa, guess the eyes are a touchy subject then.” Usually talking to me like this would make me want to slap the person, but he had such a charming manner about
him that he relaxed me straight away.
“Wow,” I said in mock admiration, “amazing big nose!” Serge was laughing, a little too much. Rasheed just grinned.
“I like her,” he said, elbowing a boy next to him, who ignored him and continued to push his peas around his plate.
We talked all through dinner, and for a moment, I could forget about the harrowing events of the day and just enjoy someone’s company. It was a welcome change. Every now and then, I would look to the end of the table, to see if my friend had noticed me. Only once, he glanced my way. He seemed unhappy. Uncomfortable.
After dinner, we were scanned out and told to make our way back to our dorms. I wanted to walk, but I thought, tonight at least, I should try and behave myself. I took the train back. I was exhausted after all. I put my new pajamas on and crawled into bed, knowing full well sleep would probably escape me tonight. All night long I could hear other girls weeping into their pillows. Tears would not find me; there was nothing left to cry about. I thought about allocations. I hoped against hope that I might get into something decent. I also gave a secret wish for Joseph to get into what he wanted also. I did not hope for us to be in the same Class. That would not happen.
We were roused at 06:00 for showers and then straight to breakfast. Krepke and Baron were at the entrance to the bathroom, shouting at us to hurry up. I saw Baron strike a girl on the back while she was still in a towel, a red welt appearing across the girl’s still wet skin. I was always good at getting ready fast, so for once, I was first in line.
Breakfast was a help-yourself kind of deal, with big metal dishes full of steaming food. Food I had never even seen before. I piled a little of everything on my plate. I wanted to try as much as possible. As I went to sit down, I could see Joseph sitting at the end of the table again. He looked up at me and smiled, sadly. I took a step towards him but he shook his head. His behavior was infuriating. I wanted to go and confront him but I heard ‘Hey amazing eyes, over here’. Rasheed and Serge were motioning for me to sit with them and I figured, well, at least they wanted to talk to me, so I turned away from him and towards my new friends.
The Woodlands Page 7
