by AR Colbert
There it was. That was the kind of behavior I had seen in Cato lately. He seemed so angry. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was a whole lot better than life before the Great War. I was glad we didn’t have to worry about paying for school or finding a high paying job. The standard wage put all citizens on the same playing field. Even as a sanitation worker, Cato was living the same quality of life as everyone else. I just wished I could move him further away from the edge of the borough.
“It will make a difference. If I get selected as a Healer I can probably get you closer to the Center, too,” I said.
“Who cares?! Whether you live just outside the Center walls or across from the pond... picking up other people’s trash or working in the medical center... it’s all the same.” Cato scooted his chair back and walked his plate over to the sink, slamming it down with a little too much force. I jumped at the loud clang of the metal on metal.
Seeing him so upset was like a punch in the gut. I ached for him, wishing I could find some way to boost his spirits. It reminded me of Dad in the weeks leading up to his exile. He was so bitter and unwilling to look at the blessings surrounding us.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I hated it when people were upset with me. It was as though their pain and anger brought physical sickness upon my body. I pushed away my plate, no longer hungry.
Cato returned and rested his weight on his hands, propped up by the table in front of me.
“Don’t apologize, Claren. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He was searching my eyes again, but I wasn’t sure what he expected to find. I didn’t have any answers.
“I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” he continued. “Just go and do your best today. And don’t worry about the results. I know you’ll be selected for something amazing.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a slight smile, and I felt a hundred times better.
__________
“Claren!”
I turned to see my best friend, Sela running awkwardly down the sidewalk toward me. Her long, lanky arm waved to me as her unruly red curls bounced behind her. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink from the chilly morning air.
“I was starting to wonder if you forgot,” I said as she joined me on the cement stairs leading into the school building.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“Not too long,” I lied. After my tense breakfast with Cato, I decided to head out early, taking a leisurely walk rather than the bus to school. I arrived about thirty minutes early, resting on the stairs and watching my classmates enter the building in a flurry of excitement and nerves. I knew what it was like to be surrounded by anxious classmates before a test, and I didn’t think my stomach could handle it today.
“Well I tried to meet you here early like we planned, but my mom decided this morning would be a good time to rattle off every single detail she could remember about her aptitude test twenty-two years ago. She was full of all kinds of useless tips and hints for me this morning.”
“How do you know they were useless? Maybe she gave you exactly what you need to be selected as a Leader. You could be on the inside next week!”
“HA!” Sela said sarcastically. “Could you imagine?”
I couldn’t. Sela’s parents were both Workers, like Cato. Most people in this part of the borough were. Her dad was a butcher. He processed meat brought in from the government’s farms. Her mom worked in a clothing store in the main business district, about halfway between the Center of Classen City and the edge of our borough.
Workers were easy to come by. Most citizens could be trained to do those jobs, so the housing for Workers was furthest from the city’s Center. If any Outsiders were to come in at night, it’s the Workers who would be most in danger. The next section of housing belonged to the Protectors, the men and women who fought crime and fires and worked to keep the people of our city safe.
Then there were the Healers. I always wondered why my mom didn’t move our family closer to the Center with her career. As the wife of a Worker, they stayed in my dad’s home instead. I supposed they had their reasons, but my dad’s regret over that decision may have been what drove him to darkness a few years ago. The Outsiders probably wouldn’t have gotten her if she’d lived farther from the edge.
Beyond the Healers were the Teachers and Entertainers, the people loved by both the lowest of Workers and the highest of Leaders. And just outside of the Center’s walls lived the Peacemakers. The Peacemakers were the judges of right and wrong, and the officials who carried out the laws and regulations made by the Leaders in the city’s Center.
Only the Leaders lived within the walls of the Center. They were well protected, surrounded on all sides by the boroughs that made up Classen City. No one had any hope of becoming a Leader unless he or she was born into it. Those aptitudes were rare, and with Leaders almost always getting matched to other Leaders or Peacemakers, the aptitudes remained within a small number of families. But aside from the added protection provided by The Center’s walls, the Leaders lived just like the rest of us.
“Ready?” Sela asked, snapping me out of my daydream. “We need to get in there before it starts.”
I took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
As soon as we entered the gym, I could feel the cumulative anxiety in the room squeezing me like a vice. I hated tests for this reason. If I was alone, I may be fine. But all the emotion in the room from hundreds of nervous eighteen-year-olds was overwhelming. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the scene at the pond from earlier. The cool breeze blowing tiny green buds just beginning to emerge from the branches of the trees, a fish coming to the surface of the water, sending circle after circle out from where it devoured its tiny breakfast bug... I could do this. I just needed to keep my mind grounded in calm.
“Over there.” Sela gestured to a couple of open seats at a table near the left wall. There were about thirty or thirty-five tables set up in careful rows through the gymnasium. Each table had eight chairs for students, with one chair at the head of each table for a proctor.
We walked through a low buzz of student chatter and took our seats. Our proctor was a neatly dressed brunette woman in her forties. She looked bored, checking her watch and looking back at the doors. They would be closing soon so we could begin.
Everything looked as I imagined it would, but there were many more proctors than I expected. Not only did each table have someone designated to it, but they also lined the walls of the gymnasium, with one proctor every six feet or so. It wasn’t possible to cheat on an aptitude test, so I wasn’t sure why there were so many adults watching over us.
“Welcome, students of Morton borough. My name is Emmaline Frasier, and I am the Director of Career Development for Classen City.”
The doors closed and the chatter came to an immediate stop. All eyes were on a woman at the front of the gym. She wore a smart blue suit, and her blond hair was pulled back into a perfect bun, framing her petite porcelain face. Her lips were more pink than any real person’s lips could be, and her eyes sparkled as she leaned toward a microphone attached to her podium. I knew she was a Leader before she introduced herself. They were all unnaturally attractive like that. It must have been another trait that only got passed between them through their matches.
She flashed her bright white smile, turning from left to right to take in everyone in the room, and continued.
“Today marks the beginning of your futures. Testing for aptitudes is a tradition that began almost a century ago when New America rose from the ashes of The Great War.” She spoke dramatically, with great pride for our country.
“By utilizing our individual strengths, we have become a great nation once again. Today, you will learn of your own strengths and the roles you are destined for in our society. You each serve a purpose, and your futures will be selected for you based on your highest aptitudes and the greatest needs in our society. As individuals we are strong, but together we are unstoppable.” She placed her right hand near her forehead in a sal
ute. “For the Greater Good!” she called out.
“For the Greater Good!” we all called back in unison.
“You may begin.”
CHAPTER 3
The proctor at our table pulled out eight pale blue folders and passed one to each of us.
“This folder contains everything you’ll need to complete your assessment. The instructions are self-explanatory, but I will give you a quick summary before you begin.”
Her instructions were low and monotonous. I wondered how many times she had repeated these same words over the years and whether she wished she could retake the test herself. She certainly didn’t seem to be too thrilled with her career placement.
“The contents of each folder at this table are varied, so it will do you no good to examine your neighbor’s work. There are no right or wrong answers, so please respond with what seems most appropriate to you.”
Students at the other tables were all receiving similar instructions. Collectively, they all seemed to be a bit more relaxed, and I was also able to breathe more easily with the folder in my hands. The results of the test seemed like a distant worry, one I didn’t have to concern myself with right then. All I had to do at that moment was shuffle through this unintimidating stack of papers.
“Section one contains sets of images and various tasks associated with them. Section two contains patterns and word associations. Section three will assess your spatial reasoning, and the final section is a personality assessment. Answer the questions as honestly as you can. Does anyone have any questions?”
We exchanged silent glances around the table.
“Very well then. You may begin.”
I pulled the stack of papers from my folder and caught the eye of a man lined up along the wall beside our table. Surprisingly, he did not avert his gaze when I looked in his direction. I turned back to the papers on the table before me, suddenly very self-conscious as I picked up my pen and tried to focus on the words on the page.
I filled out my personal information on the first page and snuck a glance from the corner of my eye. He was still watching. Breathing faster, I scanned the other proctors along the walls. They all kept their eyes moving across the crowd as a whole. So what was this guy’s problem? Why was he zeroed in on me?
I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and forged ahead.
Section One: Review the following images, and write what you see in the blank provided.
I paused, staring at the first image on the page. The abstract splatters of ink reminded me of a flock of geese flying south in a V. The second image was muddled with blues and greens. I thought of summers swimming in the creek with Sela. I smiled, and looked over to see how my friend was doing. Her nose was down, and her pen was scratching furiously across the page. I looked back to my own test, wondering if I should be writing more for each image as well.
Focus, Claren. The third image gave me pause. At first I saw nothing. Then, without warning, my mind processed it into an image I never wanted to see again. It was an uneven splatter of blackness, and memories flooded my mind, threatening to pull me under. It was the blood I saw on our kitchen floor the night mom was killed. My throat constricted as I unsuccessfully tried to push the memory away.
Cato and I had walked through the front door, still panting and breathless from the race we’d just run. Dad was sitting at the table, pale as a sheet, staring silently into nothingness. Cato asked him what was wrong, and then we saw it. Blood so thick it was almost black, puddled on the floor. We never found her body. I couldn’t bear to think what the Outsiders may have done with it.
My stomach rolled, threatening to reveal the eggs I’d eaten for breakfast. I looked straight up, allowing the fluorescent lights above to blur my vision. Maybe if I stared long enough they would burn that memory for me too.
Using the back of my sleeve, I wiped the tears pooling around my lids and allowed the green silhouette of the lights that had burned into my field of vision slowly fade away. Once my sight was fully intact again, I saw him. The man against the wall had completely turned his body toward me. He wasn’t even trying to hide his gaze anymore. No one else seemed to notice or care, and I tried not to panic. Maybe he had seen my strange behavior after that last question, and he was simply concerned. Either way, I wanted to finish the test as quickly as possible so I could get far away.
I hastily wrote “ink” by the third image and moved on, turning the page so I wouldn’t have to see it anymore. The next handful of images seemed innocent. I filled in short, lighthearted descriptions and turned to the next section.
Section Two: There are seven differences between each of the following sets of images. Circle ONLY the first difference you spot in each set.
Simple enough.
The first page contained two drawings of a boy with his cat. The cat was in a tree, while the boy stood down below. In the first image, they appeared to be playing a game. Both the boy and the cat were enjoying themselves. In the second image, the cat appeared to be stuck in the tree, and the boy was distressed.
The differences were subtle, but I felt the emotion jump off of the page through their eyes. How could I circle an emotion? I saw all of it at once, and I wasn’t sure how to circle just one thing. I settled on the boy’s eyebrows and continued to the next image.
As I worked my way through the section, I felt more and more of the distress in the photos. After the last image, I set my pen on the table and readjusted in my seat. My shoulders were tense, and I twisted and turned to loosen them up.
Everyone else in the gym was at ease now, each settled into their own rhythm as they worked through the pages of the test. The man on the wall was still looking in my direction, but even he seemed more relaxed. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to slow my pulse as well, but it only quickened. I scanned the room, wondering why my heart wouldn’t slow down.
A sharp movement caught my attention. A boy two tables away moved his hand to the bag draped over the back of his chair. The rest of his body remained facing forward, and his right hand continued to work his exam. But his left hand was gripping the bag so hard his knuckles were white. My heartbeat was almost deafening in my ears.
I saw the boy’s muscles flex as his body tensed, and I could feel his adrenaline as though it was coursing through my veins instead of his. His left hand fumbled with the closure of his bag, and as he worked to get it open, I saw the handle of a knife fall to the edge. He dropped his pen, placing his right hand on the table, and time seemed to shift into slow motion.
I scooted my chair out as I saw him push his body away from the table. My feet were moving before he could turn to fish the blade from his bag, and I heard the yell escape my lips before I could process how my body was in motion.
“Stop!” I shouted.
Every eye in the room turned towards us as he pushed me away with his forearm. I didn’t recognize him from school, and the faint creases on his face told me he wasn’t an eighteen year old here for his aptitude test. But he couldn’t have been much older than us. Those lines were the results of heartache and stress and battles I would never know.
The knife was in his hand, but he didn’t move to hurt me. Instead, he pleaded with his eyes for me to get out of his way. This was not a bad man. But he was certainly about to do a bad thing.
“Get back,” he said through his teeth.
His arms moved forward defensively, the knife a clear sign to the proctors surrounding us now that he wasn’t going to leave without a fight. He began to edge forward slowly to the podium, speaking in a loud, clear voice.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I have something to say.” He continued to the front of the gym, the circle of proctors shifting with him as he made his way forward. Students along the path ran to the walls of the gym or cowered in their seats, too stunned to move. He turned back and forth slowly as he walked, light glinting off the blade in his hand. His breathing was heavy, but his body moved gracefully ahead. At last, he reached his destinatio
n and took the microphone into his free hand.
“Next week you all will be assigned to jobs you may or may not want.” His eyes danced frantically as he scanned the room. His speech was quick and rough. “But I want you to know you have another option. You don’t have to live the lives they assign you. You can be free.”
He smiled wildly at the podium, but his audience didn’t follow suit. Muffled sobs came from along the walls, and most students were too afraid to look forward.
“We can show you the way. Tomorrow night at...”
Screams filled the air as the man’s body collapsed to the ground. A single shot had been fired from the doors leading into the gym. Emmaline Frasier stood there in her suit, a gun in her hand, and not a hair out of place on her blond head.
I choked down the vomit in my mouth. This couldn’t be real. Guns were outlawed after the Great War. Even the Protectors only carried stun guns.
Chaos broke out around the edges of the room. The entire gym rang out with a mixture of cries and screams as the students reacted to the impossible scene they’d just witnessed.
Emmaline turned and spoke to two of the proctors near the exit. They stepped in front of the doors, and she walked forward to the podium. Stepping over the man’s legs, she grabbed the microphone from the floor where he fell.
“Please remain calm,” she said to the crowd. “What we just witnessed was a tragic example of what the Outside can do to a man. I can’t bring myself to think about what kind of horrible things that he may have done if we hadn't stopped him. I wish from the bottom of my heart that it didn’t have to come to this.”
The noise in the room quieted from almost deafening to a light buzz as everyone tried to breathe and listen to Ms. Frasier. Reflections of the overhead lights glinted off of tear-streaked cheeks from every angle.
