by Kage Baker
But we’ll broadside ‘em, Alec. We’ll rig their little spy to tell ‘em just what we want ‘em to know, eh?
Open it up, matey, and let’s have a look.”
“Okay!” Alec took out his jeweler’s loupe, which had an elastic band to go around his head so he could wear it like an eyepatch. He slid it on and peered at the capsule, turning it this way and that.
“It unscrews here. Ooh, look.” With a twist of his fingers he hadopened the capsule and spilled its contents out on a dish: a tiny component of some kind and a quarter-teaspoon of yellow powder.
“There’s the spy. What’s the yellow stuff?”
“That’ll be the real medicine, I reckon,” said the Captain. “Set to leak out of that little pinprick hole. Sweep it off on the carpet! You ain’t taking none of that, neither.”
“But I don’t want to catch germs,” protested Alec, drawing out tweezers and the other tools he would need.
“You won’t catch no bloody germs,” muttered the Captain. Alec’s brain wasn’t the only thing that was different about him. “Never mind it, son. We’ll need the extra room in the capsule, anyhow, to clamp on a RAT node what’ll feed it false data.”
“Yo ho ho!” Alec cried gleefully, pulling out a little case of node components. He set about connecting one to the spy. The Captain watched him.
“See, it ain’t enough to have the right answers—though you will have, my lad, because I broke into the Ministry of Higher Education’s database and got ‘em last week. You’ll be judged on the way you answer too, d’y’see?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Take the tenth question, goes like this (the Captain made a throat-clearing noise and pursed up his mouth in a bureaucratic simper): ‘You be having a lovely day at the jolly seaside. A lady walks past and the top half of her bloody bathing suit falls off. Do you (A) fetch it and give it back to her like a good lad, (B) just sit and look at her boobies, or (C) look the other way and pretend nothing ain’t happened?’”
“Oh.” Alec looked up from the components, going a little glazed-eyed as he imagined the scene.
“Erm… I guess, A, fetch it for her, because that’d be polite.”
“A, says you? Haar. Correct answer’d be C, matey. Looking the other way’s what all morally correct folks does,” the Captain sneered. “Fetching it for her would be a insult, ‘cos she’d be perfectly able to get it herself, and besides, when you handed it back you’d still get yerself a peek at her boobies, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Alec admitted. “But you told me it was okay to think about ladies’ boobies.”
“Well, so it is, son, but you can’t say so.”
“But I wouldn’t be saying so.”
“But with that there spy inside you, they’d be able to tell you was thinking about ‘em, see? By how long you took to answer the question and what yer heartbeat did and whether you was blushing and so on,” the Captain explained.
“Oh.” Alec scowled. He looked down at the components and workedaway in silence a moment before inquiring, “What would they do if you answered B?”
“They’d fix on you with a spyglass, lad, certain sure. And if you answered the rest of the questions like that you’d scuttle yerself, because they’d stamp Potential Sociopath on yer file. I reckon you can guess what’d happen then.”
“I wouldn’t get to join a Circle of Thirty?”
“Hell no,” said the Captain somberly. “And you’d have to go to sessions with one of them psychiatric AI units what’s got no sense of humor, for months likely, and the end of it all’d be you’d spend the rest of yer life wearing a monitor and inputting data in a basement office somewhere. That’s if you was lucky! If the test scores was bad enough, they might just ship you off to Hospital.” Alec shivered. Hospital was where bad people were sent. Even children were sent there, if they were bad; and it was supposed to be very hard to get out of Hospital, once you’d got in.
“But that ain’t happening to my little Alec,” said the Captain comfortingly. “Because we’ll cheat the sons of bitches, won’t we?”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Alec. “There! All hooked up. Now, what’ll we feed it?” The Captain grinned wickedly and his eyes, which were the changeable color of the sea, went a dangerous and shifting green.
“Prepare to input code, son. On my mark, as follows… ” and he gave Alec a lengthy code that would convince the tiny spy that Alec’s reactions to the Sorting would be those of a bright (but not too bright) socially well-adjusted human child, fit in every way to join the ruling classes. Alec chortled and input as he was bid, wondering what it would be like to meet other children.
Next morning Alec got to see something that very seldom happened nowadays: dense traffic, from the sea of floating agcars that thronged around the Ministry of Education and jockeyed for space at the mounting blocks.
There were shiny black limos with house crests on the doors, just like his, and Lewin explained that those belonged to good Admin families like Alec’s. There were sporty agcars in bright colors, and those belonged (so Lewin explained, with a slight sniff) to Admin families who had let the side down and failed to live up to their societal obligations. There were black limos without crests, and those belonged to (sniff) climbers who thought they could buy their way into Circles.
There were also big public transports, crowding everyone as they bobbed and bounded up to the mounting blocks, and arriving on those were the Consumer classes.
All the traffic was exciting, though Alec didn’t like the way it smelled very much. What he found far more exciting was the slow parade of people making their way down the steps of the mounting blocks and into the Ministry building. He had never seen so many children in his life! He counted all of thirty as his chauffeur edged closer to the block, waiting for their turn to get out. He’d seen children from a distance, when he’d been taken on outings to museums or parks, but only from a distance: little figures being pulled along by parents or nannies, as he had been, muffled in coats against the cold, protected by umbrellas from the rain or the sun. Sometimes even their faces were invisible, hidden behind anti-pathogen masks or masks designed to filter out pollen and paniculate matter. But, now! These were children ready, as Alec was more than ready, to make their first official public appearance in the big world. Boys and girls each in the uniforms of their own primary schools, wearing ties of different stripes and colors, nervous little faces bared to the cold air and light of day. Alec wondered why they all looked so scared. He felt sad for them, especially when he remembered that they all had transmitters in their tummies, telling the Education Committee how scared they were. At least they didn’t know they were carrying transmitters. Alec thought smugly of his, which was broadcasting that he was a healthy, well-adjusted boy. He wasn’t scared. Though somebody in the car was scared… Alec sniffed the air and turned curiously to Lewin, who was staring out the window with a worried face.
“What’s the matter, Lewin?”
Lewin blinked at the line of children, each child with a black-coated adult. “Those can’t be ten-year-olds,” he murmured.
“Yes, they are,” said Alec in surprise. “They have to be ten. Remember? They’re all here for the test, too.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Lewin, wiping sweat from his face with a tissue. “They’re tiny.” Alec puzzled over that, because the other children did not look especially small to him, in fact they were all pretty much the same exact size; but when at last his turn came, and he and Lewin stepped from the gently rocking car onto the block, he realized what was wrong. He towered over the other children, head and shoulders.
“Hell,” Lewin said softly.
Alec felt his mouth go dry. He jammed his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing at Lewin’s coat, and was very glad the spy transmitter could only broadcast that he, Alec Checkerfield, was cool, calm and collected. But first one and then another grownup turned to stare at him, where he stood on the block, and now some of the childrenwe
re staring too, and pointing, and he heard the whispers beginning.
“What’s wrong with that child?”
“… fourteen at least!”
“… can’t see how his parents were allowed… “
“… genetics in these oldjamilies… “
“Mummy, why’s he like that?”
“Never you mind,” grunted Lewin. “Come on, son.”
Alec held his head up and marched down the stairs. He pretended they were Wapping Old Stairs. This was Execution Dock and he was a pirate, and they were taking him to be hanged. Step, step, step and they were all staring at him, but he’d show them how bravely he could die. Three times the tide would ebb and flow before the bastards let him
goLewin marched beside Alec, meeting the stares with a look of cold challenge. Being nearly a hundred years old, he could remember perfectly well when the occasional tall kid in a class had been nothing to make a fuss over. That had been before the pandemic in ‘77, of course, and then the really bad outbreak in ‘91. Maybe the alarmists were right when they’d said the gene pool was shrinking… At least Alec seemed to be taking it well. He had gone quite pale, but his face was blank and serene, almost rapturous as he stretched out his arms for the guard at the door to run the sensor wand over him. It gave a tiny beep and Lewin panicked, thinking Alec might have brought one of his odd little toys with him; but the guard didn’t react, merely waved Alec through, and Lewin realized that the wand was beeping like that for each child. He realized it must be the all-clear signal and relaxed, but his nerves had been so jangled that when he heard someone sniggering, “You don’t suppose that dried-up old prole is his father, do you?” he turned and snapped:
“My young gentleman is the son of my lord the earl of Finsbury!” And that shut them up, all right. A beefy moustached somebody went bright red and sidled behind somebody else. Lewin looked down to see if Alec had been upset, but Alec hadn’t heard.
… He was mounting the ladder to the gallows now, fantastically brave, and allowing the executioner to put the noose around his neck, and there were lots of ladies weeping for him in the crowd because he was so fearless, and they all had huge boobies…
“Come on, son.” Lewin tapped Alec on the shoulder to guide him into the long line of children shuffling along the corridor, paralleled by parents or guardians. The line was moving quickly, and in a moment they had entered the vast auditorium where the PSVA was to be held. Here, guards separated the two lines: children were sent onto the floor,where the long rows of test consoles waited, and adults were directed up into a gallery of seats overlooking the hall.
Lewin clambered up the stairs and took his seat, peering down at the floor. He watched as Alec, looming above the other kids, edged sidelong into his chair and sat looking around with a stunned expression. One hundred sixty-three children, and more coming in all the time. And here came a little boy making his way through the rows, trying to get to the vacant console next to Alec’s. When he saw Alec, however, he stopped in his tracks.
“Don’t be scared,” Alec told him. “I’m just big.”
The boy bit his lip, but started forward again and at last sat down at the console. He was small and thin, with a cafe au lait complexion and gray-blue eyes. Alec observed him with great interest.
“Hello. My name is Alec Checkerfield. What’s your name?”
“F-Frankie Chatterton,” said the other boy, looking terrified. “That’s my D-Dad and Mummy up there,” he added, pointing to the gallery. Alec looked up at the gallery, where there were precisely two hundred twelve grownups at that moment, and spotted a very dark man with a big black moustache and a lady with a red dot between her eyes. They were both staring at Frankie with expressions of agonized protectiveness. Frankie waved at them and Alec waved too.
“Where’s your people?” Frankie inquired.
“Oh, somewhere,” said Alec airily, gesturing at the gallery. “You know.”
“Are you w-worried?”
“Nope.”
“I’m really wuh-worried,” said Frankie. “This is very important, you know.”
“It’ll be a piece of cake, yeah?” Alec told him. Frankie wrinkled his brow as he pondered that. Trying to think of something to put him at his ease, Alec said, “Those are cool shoes.” They were black and shiny, made of patent leather, and no other child in the room wore anything like them. Frankie looked down proudly. “They have style,” he said. Dad didn’t w-want me to wear them, but I stopped breathing until Mummy said he had to let me.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a tiny silver pin, which he fixed in his tie with great care.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a good-luck token,” Frankie replied. Alec looked at it closely: a little bat, with pinpoint red stones for eyes.
“Wow,” said Alec, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Frankie lowered his voice and explained, “I like monster stories, see.”
“Oh!” said Alec, delighted. He looked around furtively. “I like pirates,” he whispered.
“Wow, that’s really bad!” said Frankie, grinning. But in the next moment his smile fled, as the first of the test administrators ascended the high platform where the podium was. He went pale and cringed down in his seat, whimpering “Oh, no! Not yet, not yet, please, I’m notr-ready.”
“It’s okay! See the clock? We’re not supposed to start for another five minutes,” Alec pointed out.
“What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared I’ll f-fail the test,” Frankie moaned, clutching the desk to steady himself.
“Why should you fail?” Alec asked. “You aren’t dumb. I mean, youdon’t talk like you are.”
“But what if I don’t g-get into Circle?” cried Frankie. “You don’t understand. Everybody’s been saying I’d never get into Circle since I was d-diagnosed.”
“Diagnosed?” Alec knit his brows. “What’s that mean?” Frankie looked at him as though he were mad. “You know,” he said. “When they take you to the d-doctor and he diagnoses you as an eccentric!”
“Oh.” Alec had never been to a doctor in his life, because he had never been sick. All his annual medical examinations had been done long-distance, with a scanner, and the Captain had carefully showed him how to cancel the readings and input different ones so as not to draw unwanted attention to himself, because doctors were a lot of meddling sons of whores. He pretended to understand now. “Oh!
Right. Well, don’t feel bad. If you don’t get into Circle, you’ll get trained for a nice low-stress job somewhere, and you’ll never have to worry aboutmuch.”
“But my Dad and Mum,” said Frankie, biting his nails. “It would k-kill them. They’ve slaved for me and sacrificed for me, and I’m their only son. I must succeed. I have a responsibility not to disappointthem.” Alec, who knew what it was to disappoint one’s Dad and Mum, winced. He leaned close to Frankie and spoke in an undertone.
“Listen. You want the answers? It’s an easy pattern. It’s all Cs until question 18, then all Fs until question 30, then straight Ds the rest of the way until the last question, and that’s A.”
“What?” Frankie stared at him, confused.
Alec looked into Frankie’s eyes, holding his gaze, and made his voice as soothing as he could. “C to 18, F to 30, D to the end, then A,” he repeated. “See?”
“C to 18, F to 30, D to the end, A,” Frankie echoed in bewilderment. “What’s that thing you’re doing with your eyes?” “Nothing,” said Alec, leaning back hastily. “C to 18, F to 30, D to end, A. Yes, you did! They’re all—” “Don’t be scared! I just—”
At that moment the first test administrator rapped sharply on the podium, and Frankie jumped in his seat as though he’d been struck. Silence fell quickly in the hall, as the last of the adults and children found their places.
“Good afternoon,” said the administrator pleasantly. There was a vast mumbling response from the audience. He smiled out at them all and, from the big framed picture above his head,
Queen Mary’s vague pretty face welcomed them too. Alec pretended to do the stiff little wrist-only Royal Wave, trying to make Frankie laugh. Frankie gave a tiny smile with teeth and riveted his glance on the administrator.
“How very glad I am to see you here today,” said the administrator. “You future citizens of a great nation! With the exception of seventeen children whose parents refused the Appraisal for political reasons,” and he chuckled as though the Neopunks were harmless oddballs, “every ten-year-old in England is assembled under this roof. Girls and boys, I am honored to meet you all.” Alec looked around, awed. Two hundred seventy-three children! And it was clear that the vast hall had been built for even more; plenty of consoles sat vacant.
The administrator continued:
“Some of you may be a little nervous. Some of you may be under the impression that this is a contest. But I want to assure each one of you, as well as your parents and guardians, that every child in this room is a winner today.
“It wasn’t always so. Why, once upon a time, only the children of privilege were given this chance!
Today, we’re all equals. There will be no special tests given privately to children whose mums and dads are a bit better off than others. No private tutors. No coaches. Here, in public, each child of every family, regardless of class, will be tested where all can see. The results of the Appraisal will be announced before everyone, today. This will prove that not only are we an egalitarian society; we can be seen to be egalitarian!”
He paused, with an air of triumph, and there was scattered applause. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, continuing:
“And today, in this democratic process, we will select those whose natural talents predetermine them to lead the nation of tomorrow. Yet, all will play their part in running the great machine of state. Each boyand girl has a duty, and all are of equal importance. It remains only to properly assign each task to the child best suited for it.
“What is required of a good citizen? What has been required by all nations, in every era. Obedience to law, social awareness, and social
