Unbound

by J. B. Simmons

  I faced most tests expecting perfection. My confidence was slightly shaken, though, by how little V had found about this one. She had also found nothing new in the report on Aisha and Naomi. I worried that someone or something was blocking information from my precept. Everyone knew ISA had the best hackers.

  I set those worries aside. I would deliver with silence and intensity, and I would pass this test.

  We were in the same large room where we’d had our simulations. Each of us sat far apart in an old-fashioned desk—the kind of desk without a single circuit, just a chair and a tray connected to it. The tray even had one of those little grooves to hold a pencil. I hadn’t used a pencil since grade school, but there one was, sitting in front of me like a threat. Its point was shaved to precision. Its shaft was yellow and pure as it rested above the booklet. The booklet was a white stack of paper as thick as my thumb. The cover had two words in huge black letters:

  TEST YOURSELF.

  I assumed every breath would be watched and recorded. V was linked to the ISA-7 network. They had control. The test was all around us, not just in the booklet. I kept my gaze moving around the room, half expecting more androids to drop out of the ceiling and attack us. No robot came, only the Captain’s voice. It spoke out of nowhere, as if it were just a thought in my mind.

  Begin, his voice said. That was all.

  I glanced around at the others. Charles and Patrick had already pulled open their booklets and were studying the words in it. Aisha stood up suddenly. Her chair had smoke coming from it, as if it was burning hot. She hopped onto the tray of her desk, kneeled down, and picked up her booklet. She opened it and began to read. Maybe burning chairs were part of her exam. Apparently we would each face our own challenges.

  Naomi was looking at me when I turned to her. She smiled and playfully tossed her pencil into the air. It spun twice and she caught it. She pressed the eraser to her lips and mouthed the words, it’s on. Her head turned to the booklet, which she pulled open with the delicacy of a bomb defuser.

  I looked down again at the words before me.

  TEST YOURSELF.

  I opened the cover.

  Welcome, Elijah. The first page was blank, but the words flicked into my mind. Turn the page. So I did.

  The top of the next page said, “Circle the correct answer.” There was a single multiple-choice question:

  Which of James Madison’s famous quotations is from Federalist Paper #10?

  A – “Ambition must be made to counteract ambition.”

  B – “A standing military force, with an overgrown Executive, will not long be safe companions to liberty.”

  C – “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.”

  D – “Religion and government will both exist in greater purity, the less they are mixed together.”

  Rough start. Were they just messing with me? I had no clue what the answer was. They didn’t teach that ancient stuff in school. V could have told me if I controlled her. I had at least heard of the “C” quotation, and “C” was always a good guess. But this was ISA-7. I did not trust a good guess. My instinct was to skip it for now, so I flipped the page.

  Two points, said the Captain’s voice in my mind. None of the options were correct.

  On the next page, the word “SCREAM” was written in the middle. Now yell “James Madison” as loud as you possibly can, came the voice.

  So much for silent delivery. I breathed in deeply and then let it out: “James Madison!”

  Everyone in the room looked at me.

  Zero points, the Captain said. You were seventeen decibels short of your maximum capacity. Turn the page.

  Another multiple choice question.

  Which factor contributed most to the U.S. invasions of Vietnam in the 1960s, Iraq in the 2000s, and Venezuela in the 2030s?

  A – Oil

  B – Absence of international leadership

  C – Conflicts with other superpowers

  D – Domestic politics

  That one was easy. It looked like a question from a standard college admissions test. Every student was taught that the UN was the key to international peace. And the ISA was under UN control after all, no matter what ISA-7 did in secret. I circled B.

  One point.

  More and more questions and exercises followed, at least fifty total. I performed well, and I knew most of the answers. I did not know which company was the first to acquire sovereign territory when it claimed the moon, nor did I know who won the World Cup in 2026. But by the time I flipped to the booklet’s last page, I was at eighty-seven points. Too bad I didn’t know the grading scale.

  As I looked at the last page, my hands started to shake. It was two pictures: Naomi’s face beside Don Cristo’s.

  Scenario, began the Captain. You and Naomi attend a banquet honoring the Premier of China. Your target is the precept of the President of the UN. Access and transfer his data. Estimated download time is five seconds. Secure the target at any cost. What do you do when this happens?

  Suddenly I shifted. I was in a palatial room with Chinese decor. It was like the simulations, except this time I was in my body, not in a drone. I was in a chair at an elaborate, long table with at least fifty others. The plate before me was empty except for the cracked shell of a lobster. Naomi sat to my right. Don Cristo sat across from her. I felt a small gun in my right pocket. Probably loaded with a tranquilizer.

  “Pardon me,” Cristo said to no one in particular. He stood and bowed gracefully in his tux. Then he walked off.

  “Do not go,” Naomi whispered. “It’s a trap.” She wore a stunning red dress and was made up like a movie star.

  Was she actually in this simulation, or was someone else controlling her? I figured action was the only way to find out. “This might be our only chance,” I said to her. “Follow me in one minute.”

  I stood and went after Don Cristo. His path led me through a door and then down wide, red-carpeted stairs. I glimpsed him entering another room at the end of a long hall. I rushed that direction. V told me Naomi had left her seat. So apparently they were letting V help me now.

  I cracked open the door Cristo had entered. It was a men’s restroom, full of marble and gold. I slipped inside.

  Cristo was at a urinal, staring at the wall before him.

  I raised my gun. It looked like it was loaded with a dart.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Cristo said calmly. He still faced the wall. “She’ll die if you do. Go ahead, peek outside.”

  “Don’t move,” I demanded. I cracked the door open again. Naomi was there, surrounded by dozens of soldiers with guns aimed at her. She had her hands up.

  Our eyes met for a moment. It wasn’t really her, was it?

  I looked back inside. Cristo had turned to face me. He was smiling.

  “Fire now!” he shouted.

  I fired just as other gunshots rang out.

  Cristo stumbled to a knee. I glanced back toward Naomi. She was doubled over, hands on her side, staring at me.

  “Elijah,” she groaned. “Help me.” She reached out with a blood-covered hand, and then fell forward.

  I stepped towards her, more gunshots erupted, and then everything went black.

  I was in my desk again. The only one still in the room.

  Eighty-seven points, said the Captain’s voice in my head. End of examination. Report here at noon tomorrow for results.

  WHEN I LEFT the room, Naomi was waiting for me.

  “How’d it go?” she asked cheerfully. There was no red dress, no blood. It was just Naomi, looking like a model in a blue thrift-shop jumpsuit.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Well, it’s done, right?” She took my hands. “Is everything okay? What happened?”

  “Nothing. It was just an interesting test.”

  “You can say that again. So, where are you taking me? When do we leave?”

  “Are you ready?” I asked. I needed to get o
ut of this building and out of the city. Maybe that would help clear my head.

  “Do I need to take anything?” She looked down at her clothes. “I like to be comfortable when I take tests, but I’m guessing this is underdressed?”

  “No problem, I’ve arranged for that. And you always look amazing anyway. Let’s go now.”

  She smiled. “You lead the way.”

  As we made our way outside, I instructed V to rent a sports car and spare no expense. It showed up in the Pentagon parking lot five minutes after we walked out. It was the perfect vehicle—black composite carbon, solar wings, and remote drive.

  We jumped in and rode to a town called Warrenton before the auto-drive stopped. The car pulled off the highway and into a transition station. The steering wheel folded out of a compartment in front of me.

  I put my hands on the wheel. It would feel good to actually drive. “We’re almost there,” I told Naomi.

  “A boy from Manhattan driving manual?” Naomi put her hand beside mine on the wheel. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

  I smiled at her, then slammed my foot on the pedal. Naomi slid her hand away and pressed back into her seat. We were flying down the road in seconds, the leafless trees passing in a blur.

  “My family has a few places in the country,” I said once we were cruising. “One of them is near the Finger Lakes in New York. I spend my summers there, driving on roads a lot like this.” The remnants of the city were behind us. Gentle hills rolled before us toward a blue ridge of mountains in the distance.

  “Summers at your lake house?” Naomi asked. “Sounds nice. I’m guessing you spend your winter breaks at a Swiss chalet?”

  “How’d you know?” Our chalet was in France, but just across the border in the alps. She was close enough. “This year I’m missing the slopes so I can be here, you know, taking tests and serving our country.”

  “Some sacrifice,” Naomi laughed. “All I’m missing is my holiday reading.” She paused. “I know you’ve been avoiding this, but how do you think you did on the test?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “In the end, I had eighty-seven points. How about you?”

  “I didn’t get a number.”

  “Really? What did your precept say when it was over?”

  “It said ‘completed’ and told me to report back tomorrow for the results.”

  “Interesting.” Now I was worried. It made no sense for me to get a number and for her to just “complete.” What if she had failed it? All I said was, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow then.”

  “That we will,” she replied in a carefree tone.

  The first sign for the Inn at Little Washington was ahead. “Don’t you want to know where we’re going?” I asked.

  “Somewhere obscenely expensive, I’m guessing. And you’re paying double so I can have my own room, right?”

  “Yes and yes,” I answered. “It’s a little inn in a little town, but it has quite a history.”

  “Hmm…I’ve heard of only one place around here that meets that description. You’re not kidding about your wealth.”

  I shrugged. “I’m hoping to buy you the best dinner of your life. We’ve earned it after this week.”

  “That sounds nice, as long as you’re not trying to repeat history,” she warned. “You must know this little inn has hosted its share of controversy.”

  “It adds character,” I said, “unless you’re the president, I guess.”

  “You could say that,” she scoffed. “I never liked President Thorne, but from what I hear, he had good taste for where to wine and dine his mistresses.”

  “It can’t be an affair if neither of us is married,” I smiled.

  “Not funny,” she said.

  “Sorry. I promise, the only history we’ll be repeating is some of the finest dining in the world.” I slowed to turn off the main road. “Just a couple minutes now.”

  We passed another modest sign.

  “So it is the Inn at Little Washington,” she said, sounding as excited as I’d hoped. “I can’t wait to see the table where Thorne was caught. Can you believe that was just nine years ago? I heard prices doubled after the scandal.”

  “All press is good press,” I said, as we drove up to the small and perfect country inn.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said with a hint of wonder.

  “It’s fitting for a night like this,” I replied, as we came to a stop. Fitting, I thought, because it was outside her comfort zone. How else was I going to figure out whether to heed Aisha’s warning? I also needed to check my feelings for Naomi. It had been a very confusing week.

  Two bellmen opened our doors. A rush of cool air blew in. We were outside the warming shield of the capital.

  “Welcome, Mr. Goldsmith,” said one of the men. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Come, we have everything ready.”

  They whisked us inside. The day’s exam and the week’s stress began to melt away in the face of luxury. The lobby smelled of herbs and cedar-burning fire. The white-gloved receptionist welcomed us and told us our room numbers. The rooms were already synced with our precepts. Naomi and I parted, with a plan to meet in an hour for dinner.

  I COULD NOT have drawn it up any better.

  Naomi sat across from me at the immaculate dinner table. She wore the dress I’d asked to have waiting in her room. V had found her size, and the Inn’s staff had excellent taste. The dress was slim and red and perfect. Perfect except for the flicker of memory it brought back from the test. She was just as stunning as she’d been in the simulation.

  I had done my best to match her, with a light grey tux. I’d even worn the bowtie. My dad would have been proud. He had once told me that, if I wanted to impress someone, dinner at the Inn was one of life’s only sure bets. For once I was glad I’d followed his advice.

  While the first courses were served, Naomi and I talked about the week and ISA-7. By the time the entrée arrived, our conversation was relaxed and easy. I was enjoying her company, instead of trying to figure everything out.

  But then she asked, “What are you doing on April 17?” She was halfway through her filet mignon. She had savored each bite, as if it were a last meal.

  “Probably skipping class, maybe going to a party, about to graduate,” I said. “Why? What day of the week is that?”

  “It’s a Saturday.” Her eyes were an invitation. “I’m hoping you might be my date for a wedding that day.”

  “That should work,” I said, “and I’d be honored.” It would at least keep us connected outside ISA. A tiny part of me had worried she’d forget about me once we left training—kind of like how my dad always forgot about me if we weren’t in the same room. Besides, I could always skip a couple days of class, and this would be my best excuse yet. “Where is it?” I asked. “Who’s getting married?”

  “It’s a friend of mine, Jade Taylor. She lives in New Zealand. We met when I studied abroad there a couple years ago.”

  “So the wedding is on the other side of the world?” Interesting, I thought. New Zealand had not shown up in V’s report on Naomi. I hid my surprise behind a bite of buttery sea bass.

  “Actually, the wedding is in the Vatican.” She hesitated. “In St. Peter’s Basilica.”

  “Seriously?” A shiver ran down my spine. “You know what I’ve dreamed about that place. How does anybody get married there anyway?”

  “Jade’s family is close with the Cardinal from New Zealand. They’re old money, like you.” She leaned forward, her lips playfully pouty. “You keep saying these dreams are just dreams. Prove it. Come with me.”

  Something in my gut warned me to say no, that my dreams were not just dreams. Why else would Naomi invite me? I wanted to think it was just because she liked me, but I remembered Bart’s words about her mission to bring me somewhere. Still, dragons didn’t exist. What happened in my dreams was impossible. And she was right; there was no way to prove it except by showing up.

  “I’ll come,” I said. I
f my life had a soundtrack, I figured someone would’ve just banged an ominous gong.

  Her face lit up like a sunrise. “Wonderful! So will you also come a week early for Easter? It’s the Sunday before. I’ve heard there’s nothing like Easter at the Vatican.”

  “You’re pushing your luck. Remember?” I pointed to myself. “Jewish kid. We take to Easter like cats take to water.” I hid my unease at the thought of thousands gathered in the Vatican piazza, listening to the Pope. It was eerily close to what I’d seen. “Plus, that would mean skipping a whole week of school just before graduation.”

  “Please, for me? It’s not like they’ll keep you from graduating.”

  She was right again, but that did nothing to settle my unease. “What if I skipped out on Easter and joined you only for the wedding?” I asked.

  She studied me with a smile. “You’re nervous, aren’t you? Think Bart might actually be right?”

  I felt myself losing ground in this conversation. “Well, I never guessed I’d be in the Vatican anytime soon. That doesn’t mean Bart’s right, but it is a little strange.”

  “What if he’s right? Wouldn’t you want to find out? And if he’s wrong and Easter passes as it has for a couple millennia, then we’ll travel to Tuscany during the week before the wedding. You can pick the hotels. You can even pick my clothes, like you did tonight.” She ran her hands along the red silk fabric, drawing my eyes down the slightly open front and towards her exposed honey skin. “So? Are you in?”

  Two images competed in my head. One was the piazza packed with people, an earthquake, a dragon rising from the ground, and Don Cristo saying my name. The other was like a scene from a Renaissance painting—perfect green hills, a beautiful hilltop town, and Naomi smiling and laughing with my hand around her waist. I was always a sucker for the Renaissance. Between the dreams and Naomi, I had to take Naomi.

  “Okay, I’ll go.” I finished my wine, pretending to be cool. This time my soundtrack was rumbling thunder in the distance.