by Aer-ki Jyr
“Way to go, Paul,” Barry said, knocking him in the shoulder.
“Hey, we lost by half a second,” Frank argued. “If you’d run your 1200 a bit faster we would have won too.”
“I doubt it,” Brad said in disgust. “Carter had his number the whole way. I don’t think a 20 second lead would have been enough. The guy is the State Champ in the mile, you know.”
“I wouldn’t have been outkicked,” Barry muttered.
“Feel like swapping legs next time?” Paul asked their 400 runner as he finally sat up.
“Easy boys,” the Head Coach said, walking up behind them. “We may have lost the race, but the 8 points you earned just clenched the team title. Congratulations.”
“We beat Carmel?” Frank asked. “We’ve still got two events left.”
“Mathematically they can’t catch us,” the Coach said confidently. “Grab yourself a bottle of Gatorade and get your sweats on. We’ve got a victory lap coming in a little bit.”
He clapped Paul on the shoulder and walked off to oversee the next event on the track.
“Up you go,” Frank said, offering Paul his hand and pulling him to his feet. They walked back over to their tent camp slowly and grabbed their sweats, then joined the rest of their teammates along the fence circling the track and watched their 4x400 team run the final event of the meet, after which they all met on the infield for the awards presentation and gave the Championship trophy an escort around the track before heading back to the bus.
Paul caught up to the Head Coach as he was leaving the press box with the results on his way to the parking lot.
“You need something, Paul?”
“Is it alright if I do my workout in the afternoon tomorrow on my own?”
“What’s wrong? You have a date at 8am Saturday morning?” he asked sarcastically.
“No, Coach, but I do have a test at 9:00.”
“What sort of test?” he asked, frowning.
“At the Star Force recruitment center in Indy.”
“Really?” he asked. “What branch?”
“It’s a new category, an A-7.”
“What’s the job description?”
“Not much with this one. It just says they’re looking for the best of the best…and you have to be able to run sub 5:00 in the mile to even try.”
“I thought most of their positions were tech-related.”
“No, they’ve got some pilot and security slots too. Don’t know what this one is about, but what have I got to lose? At least I pass the preliminary requirement.”
The Coach thought for a moment. “25 minute run, 4 strides, double stretching.”
Paul smiled. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Just don’t make a habit of finding ways to skip practice. We’ve still got half the season left and I want you as sharp as can be come Sectional.”
“Will do, Coach,” he said, running off back to the bus.
The next morning he drove himself down to the recruitment center in Indy, the only one in the state of Indiana. He arrived early, then spent nearly forty minutes trying to find parking, leaving him barely 6 minutes to spare when he jogged up to the wide double revolving doors that marked the entrance to the 12 story tall recruitment center, on top of which he noted was one of Star Force’s trademark transports, sitting quietly on the rooftop landing pad.
When Paul got inside he found himself at the back of a short line of people leading up to the attendant’s pod-like station. The woman inside was congenial and soft spoken, and was eating up Paul’s six minutes as she patiently worked her way through the people in front of him in line.
Two men in front of him left the building altogether, while another three were directed to the elevator station…the only other visible item in the main lobby. It was incredible Spartan, but had the trademark spacey feel about it none the less. The whole place felt…sterilized.
“How can I help you?” the attendant asked, flashing Paul a small smile.
“I have a test scheduled. A-7. 9am.”
She glanced up at what must have been a clock inside her booth. “Better get going. Floor 6, room 3,” she said, thumbing him towards the elevators.
“Thanks,” Paul said, rushing off.
“Mr. Taylor, I presume,” a man wearing a dark blue Star Force uniform said when Paul finally arrived at the door to room 3. He was waiting for him outside.
“Yes,” Paul answered pithily.
“You’re right on time. Please step inside.” The middle aged man pulled open the door for him.
Paul walked through, greatly relieved that he had made it on time, but to his surprise there was no one else inside.
“The test you will be taking will be auditory, meaning that the computer will ask you questions and you will respond as if you were talking to a person. Hit the blue button when you’re ready to begin your answer. When you’re finished answering hit the green button. Take as long as you need, this isn’t a timed test,” the man said, opening one of seven small booths in the room. Paul could see a chair and screen inside.
“What kind of a test is it?”
“A mix of things. Don’t worry about your score like a normal test, just answer each question as honestly as you can. It won’t be like anything you had in school.”
“Good,” Paul muttered, half laughing. “Do I start now?”
“Whenever you’re ready. It will auto-start when I shut the door.”
Paul took a couple of quick breaths. “Let’s do this,” he said, more to himself than the man. He ducked inside the 5 foot tall door and sat down.
“Good luck,” the man said, pulling the hatch-like door closed behind him.
All was dark for a moment, then the screen lit up with the Star Force symbol bracketed by illumination strips attached to the wall.
“State your name,” a female voice requested.
Paul looked around for the blue button. He found it and two others just in front of his knees.
“Paul Michael Taylor,” he said, then pressed the green button.
“What is two squared?”she asked, along with the numbers appearing on screen.
“Four.”
“In what year did the first moon landing occur?”
“1969.”
“What was the most recent book you have read, if any?”
“Halo: Fall of Reach…or, well, reread actually,” he clarified, realizing that every word he was saying was being recorded. He bit his tongue and pressed the green button again.
“What is your favorite color?”
“What?” he gasped, half laughing. He wasn’t sure he’d heard that right so he hit the white ‘repeat’ button.
“What is your favorite color?” the voice said again.
“Are you serious?” he asked. “Ok, well, I don’t really have one so let’s just go with,” he hit the blue button, “clear.”
“If a woodchuck could chuck wood, how far could he throw it?”
“Is that supposed to be a riddle?” Paul asked, not understanding what this had to do with anything. When he couldn’t figure anything intelligent to say he figured he might as well have some fun with it.
“Depends if his last name is Norris.”
“What is the magic number of Star Wars?”
Ha! That one he did know.
“327.”
“What is the second element in the periodic table?”
“Helium.”
“Blonde, brunette, or redhead?”
“Whichever one is the hottest.”
The mix of academic, cultural, and nonsense questions got more bizarre the longer the test went. By the end of it all Paul had completely lost track of time and in some ways his sanity. He had no idea what the point had been, nor any idea of how he did.
The testing chamber opened on its own when the questioning was complete and Paul staggered out, stiff from sitting so long. He glanced down at his watch and did a double take.
He’d been in there 4 hours.
; “You look a little rough,” the same man said. No one else was in the room, but Paul did notice that three of the other chambers were closed, which conceivably meant that others were going through the same insane test at the moment.
“What was that all about?”
“I get the same general question from everyone who takes it,” he explained, motioning Paul to the door. “And I tell them all the same thing…I’m not allowed to take the test, I don’t know what the questions are, and I’m not told anything about what it’s for, so your guess is probably better than mine.”
“Results?”
“Will be posted when available. They’ll contact you when they have them. For now, head back down to the main lobby via the elevator, go get something to eat, take a nap, and thank you for taking the Star Force recruitment test.”
“It’ll be a long nap,” Paul commented as he left the test proctor and walked awkwardly back to the elevators.
As he left the building he looked back, wondering what the hell had just happened, then shrugged it off. Whatever score he got was a done deal now. It was time to get back home and get his track workout in.
What he didn’t realize was the blue button had been a placebo. His entire four hour testing session had been recorded, and the point of the test had not been in soliciting answers, but in analyzing his reaction to the questions.
7
Three weeks later Paul was contacted about a follow-up test. He went back down to Indy where he was met by the same man as before.
“Welcome back, Mr. Taylor,” the man said, greeting him in the lobby this time. “This way.”
Without saying anything further Paul followed the man into the elevator and up to the 10th floor where he was put into a very large room filled with what looked like children’s games. Again, he was the only person present.
“What you see,” the man began to explain as he shut the door behind them, “is a series of puzzles, 15 in total. Solve as many as you can.”
“Is there a time limit?”
“You can stay as long as you like, but you only get one chance, so make it count.”
“Are you going to explain these or do I have to guess?”
“I will remain for the duration, but other than explaining what lies before you, I can offer no assistance.”
“Bet that’s boring…ok, what’s this one?”
“The irregularly shaped blocks you see before you can be arranged into a cube 12 units wide. Assemble them correctly and you pass the challenge.”
“What about those?” Paul asked, pointing to a series of levers, pullies, chutes, and other assorted gizmos.
“Mousetrap. Use the available components to get the ball from the red tray into the blue tray to pass the challenge.”
“And that one?” Paul asked, beginning to like this.
“Unlock the door.”
“And that?”
“Deduce which unit is powering the light.”
Paul went on and got the basics on each of the challenges before diving in head first. He had 12 of them solved within three hours, then got hung up on a brain teaser that took him an hour and a half to crack. The remaining two challenges took him another hour, but he had no real trouble with them, finishing the set in the middle of the afternoon.
“Impressive,” the man said, abandoning his silent post against the far wall. “No one at this facility has passed more than 7.”
“What now?” Paul said, beaming.
“Well, I would have you scheduled for a third test on another day, but since we’ve still got daylight left we can proceed now if you like? Or are you too brain fried?”
“I’m game.”
The man smiled. “Good. Follow me.”
Paul was led out of the ‘play area’ and back to the elevator, which took them down to level 4 and a specialized gaming terminal with a large screen, wide keyboard, and an attached chair with ample cushioning.
“Have a seat…”
Paul slid into the chair as the man activated the system. “Are you familiar with RTS games?”
“A few.”
“What you have before you is one, and only one, scenario to pass. You can try as many times as you like, on as many days as you like, which is why I wanted you to start now.”
The screen activated and a large simulated landscape appeared with various locations marked.
“You and five computer players are assaulting one heavily fortified base in a capture the flag scenario. Get the flag, win the game. Simple as that.”
“Sounds a bit too easy,” Paul said warily.
“I didn’t say it was easy,” the man warned. “It may take you a while to get acquainted with the controls and balance. Take your time.”
“How many people have beaten the game?”
“Can’t tell you that unless you pass.”
“Fair enough,” Paul said, flipping through the control menu as the game began. The man disappeared and left him to the intense time-warping mind lock that was video gaming.
Paul’s first attempt was a trial and error venture, which he quickly lost. He and the other computer players didn’t have the firepower necessary to breach and hold the base’s perimeter defenses. As soon as they had a foothold inside the base, reinforcements would overwhelm and destroy what was left of their attacking force.
Conventional gaming strategy held that if a direct attack was impossible, try for a roundabout approach. Paul’s next line of attack, after the base defenders had counterattacked and wiped out his own encampment, was to probe around the base perimeter for weaknesses using long ranged attacks. He learned a great deal about the position and distribution patterns the enemy was employing, but whatever long range damage he incurred required too many units, leaving him without sufficient assault units to actually invade the base.
His third attempt was a try at misdirection, using a number of faints to reposition the enemy away from his true objective. He partially succeeded, which prompted him to try several more times. It wasn’t until his 8th run-through of the game that he realized he was missing the whole point…and stupidly so.
It was his computer allies. He had to coordinate attacks to break the base defenses…but how?
He highlighted one of his allies’ main bases and smiled as he found a menu prompt. When he opened it he found four preset strategies that he could order them to employ, though he still had no control over their individual units.
With that revelation he compiled a basic strategy, assigning his own troops the most sensitive challenge…that of long range bombardment. He tasked his factories to spew out the siege tanks and set them up at appropriate range, creating a few guard units from the remaining unit slots available to him to protect the valuable assets.
Able to reach the wall while remaining just clear of return fire, Paul’s tanks beat down the outer defenses closest to his position while two of his computer allies assaulted the perimeter uselessly with infantry and conventional tanks. As he took down some of the base’s wall turrets, the survival rate of his allies’ troops in that area increased, allowing them to do yet more damage to the perimeter.
The enemy then counterattacked with air assets, slaughtering most of the assault force as well as coming after Paul’s siege tanks, but some anti-air assets he’d built thinned their numbers enough that he only lost two tanks to the assault before a large mass of allied air units flew into the fray using a pre-requested rush tactic, taking out the enemy air assets and assaulting the wall defenses of their own accord as more infantry and tank reinforcements began trickling in underneath their protective swarm…which was even now thinning from combat attrition.
Now was the key, Paul knew. While his allies assaulted the base…an assault that wouldn’t prove effective in the long run…he repositioned his tanks closer to the wall, in territory that originally would have put them within the range of the base’s defense turrets. Those turrets were currently out of operation and, thanks to his allies’ diversion, the base defens
e units couldn’t counterattack during his moment of transitional weakness. He set his tanks and arrayed his defenses, then proceeded on pounding additional base defense turrets and units that had previously been beyond his reach.
Paul repeated the advance numerous times, locking down the territory around his tightly packed and defended tank group and leap-frogging forward when his allies collected enough forces to temporarily punch their way forward. It was time consuming, but easy enough that Paul was certain that he’d discerned the purpose of the test.
“Teamwork,” he whispered as computer player number 4 broke through the final defenses and arrived at the target, capturing the flag and winning the scenario for the team while not a single one of Paul’s units had so much as even entered the enemy base.
He smiled, then squinted as his vision left the computer screen. How long had it been anyway?
He glanced down at his watch, then turned to look out the windows behind him, seeing that the sun was just going down. He’d been playing for another 5 hours…but it had been time well spent.
“When do you graduate?” the man asked, reappearing beside him and tossing a small card into his lap.
“Next Thursday,” Paul said, looking at the card. It had a swipe strip and a Star Force logo on it. “What’s this?”
“Fifty bucks…go get yourself something to eat. You’ve got to be starving.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Paul said, pocketing the corporate debit card. “How many others passed?” he asked as he pulled himself out of the chair, finding his legs a bit wobbly. The man was right, he was hurting for food right now, and his mouth was dry as a bone. He walked over to the nearby water fountain and took care of his thirst, stretching out euphorically as he did so.
“Sixteen,” the man told him. “On this continent.”
Paul blanched. “Really?”
“Do you want in?”
“To Star Force?” Paul asked, wanting clarification. He didn’t believe this was happening.
“Into the A-7 program, yes.”
“What is that, exactly?”
“The best of the best…beyond that, I don’t know. You have to enter orientation on a blind contract.”
