The Testing

by Joelle Charbonneau

  Tomas heads to the back of the skimmer to sit with the other two. A hand touches my arm as I start to join them. “Everything okay?”

  Michal’s eyes are filled with concern. I smile and am fully aware of the camera as I say, “Everything’s great. It was nice to see the revitalization work up close. My father would be impressed.”

  He glances back toward the camera; then he returns my smile. The concern in his face is gone, replaced by pleasure. Yes. For some reason, out of the four of us from Five Lakes Colony, Michal has decided to help me. And clearly he believes I have performed well.

  Telling me to take a seat, Michal climbs into the driver’s compartment. Zandri is busy talking to Tomas about some party they both attended a few weeks ago as I sink into one of the couches and feel the skimmer begin to move. She fingers her bracelet, a square with a stylized flower in the middle, as she leans forward drawing attention to the loose neckline of her blouse. I don’t know if the people watching us are annoyed by Zandri’s flirting, but I am. And worse, I’m certain her antics don’t reflect well on her academic standing. Considering her reluctance to attend in the first place . . .

  I wait for an opening and ask Zandri about the new windmill she had a hand in designing. While her primary passion is painting, Zandri has a wonderful eye for symmetry and balance that our town’s architect has been happy to utilize. I’m betting her bracelet design has something to do with this skill.

  Zandri gives me a curious glance, probably because I was also involved in the project, but doesn’t dismiss the opportunity to talk about herself. Tomas asks her questions about the windmill and pulls Malachi into talking about the things he’s been working on. For the next hour, Tomas and I trade off interviewing our fellow candidates, helping them look good in front of the invisible Testing committee. They are my competition, but because they are from home, I will do what I can to keep us all safe.

  The conversation tapers off, and I find myself fighting to keep my eyes open after such a long day. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” Tomas slides into the seat next to me and gives me a warm smile. “I’ll wake you if anything exciting happens.”

  I follow his advice and stretch out on the cushions near the front of the cabin. I’m not sure how well I’ll sleep knowing Tomas might see me drool, but I close my eyes and give it a try. The last thing I hear before the real world fades is Tomas telling Zandri and Malachi to speak softly.

  My father talks to me in my dreams. The Dad I knew before I was selected. He patiently shows me how to splice flora genes. Holds my hands while I attempt to mimic his movements. Tells me the biggest failures typically come before the biggest breakthroughs. That no matter what, I should never get discouraged. Learn from my mistakes and all will be well.

  “Cia. Wake up.” My father’s hands shake me. No. Not my father. Tomas. I am no longer home. Tomas smiles as I open my eyes. “Get up. Michal says you don’t want to miss this.”

  Michal’s right. Out the window I can see a shimmering, impossibly clear body of water. The dimming light cannot detract from its obvious purity. The five great lakes our colony is named after have been cleansed, but not like this. Not yet. The sight takes my breath away.

  And then I see it. What the others are watching with shining eyes and open mouths. Up ahead—beyond the water. Silver buildings. Lights bright enough to be seen for miles and miles. These can only mean one thing—Tosu City. We’re here.

  In school we’ve been taught that ninety-nine years ago, Tosu City was created as the first tangible sign that we as a people had survived the Seven Stages of War—the Four Stages of destruction that humans wrought on one another and then the following Three Stages in which the earth fought back. This spot was chosen because its predecessor was deemed an unimportant military target by the wagers of war. While it could not escape the corruption of the earth or the earthquakes, tornadoes, and floods, much of the city still stood when the earth quieted, and those left alive began to rebuild.

  As we move closer, the buildings seem to grow taller. How thrilling and scary it must be to view the world from the top. Some buildings aren’t as tall, but the squat, perfectly cylindrical shapes constructed of steel and glass are no less impressive. Building after building after building. I cannot tell how many of them are new or which survived the wars. The buildings begin to blur together and everywhere there are people. Walking. Running. Laughing. Hurrying. Skimmers and bicycles crowd the streets. Old-fashioned cars and glide scooters. Most streets we pass look neat, clean, and new. Exactly what I expect from the city that serves as the center of our country’s hope for the future. But as we travel, I catch a glimpse of other streets that are dirtier and in disrepair. The people walking to and from those areas look worn out and tired. Some appear hungry. Others look as though they haven’t bathed in weeks, and I wonder why. From school I know the greatest concentration of our population is here—in this city. At least a hundred thousand people. Until this moment I never fully understood what that number meant. Now that I do, I am overwhelmed. I feel Tomas’s hand slip into mine and hold on tight. His face is pale. His eyes are wide. I think I’m not alone in my feelings of insignificance and confusion.

  Michal tells us we’ll go immediately to the Testing facilities—no sightseeing will be allowed. But I notice he takes us past the towering capitol building and the cold, stone department of justice, both places Malachi expressed interest in seeing, before steering the skimmer through a large arching gate. A wrought-iron sign next to the arch reads THE UNIVERSITY OF THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH.

  My heart skips. We are at the University. Here I can tell the buildings are old. Red brick. White trim. A clock tower. Some buildings made of glass. Others of stone. All speak of age and of wisdom. I see a large sculpture of two hands clasping each other—in prayer? In hope? Zandri might know, but I don’t want to ask her. I just want to take it all in.

  We pass a large stadium, and moments later the skimmer slows. It comes to a stop in front of a massive, sleek building made of black steel and black glass. The grounds around it are lush and green and filled with flowers, but they in no way soften the stark, imposing exterior. A small bronze sign in front of the entrance reads TESTING CENTER.

  The skimmer door opens, and the four of us hop out. I look up at the tall structure and then at the heavy steel front door and my stomach clenches. I feel a large warm hand touch my shoulder. Tomas. Just knowing he is beside me helps keep the gnawing panic at bay.

  “Here.” Michal hands me the bag marked with my symbol. “Make sure you don’t let it out of your sight.” He says this in a low, quiet voice. His gaze locks with mine. There is no smile or amusement in his eyes. He is serious. I am to keep my few possessions with me no matter what.

  Then the moment is gone. Michal turns back and his voice booms out, “Once we get inside, you’ll be assigned your sleeping quarters and your roommates. Most of the other candidates are already here since their skimmers didn’t have mechanical problems. The last few will arrive sometime tonight.” He gives us a big smile and asks, “Are you ready to go inside?”

  There is only one acceptable answer. “Yes.” We all give it.

  Michal nods and presses six buttons on a small keypad next to the door. There is the click. The door swings open, and we follow Michal inside. Tomas is the last to cross the threshold. The minute he does, the door swings shut behind him. The sound of locks being engaged accompanies our first glimpse of the Testing Center. Which, to be completely honest, is kind of a letdown. The lobby area is dimly lit—white walls with a scuffed, gray floor. Two gray, wooden chairs are arranged in a corner to suggest a conversational gathering place, but the chairs look as though they’ve never been used. We don’t get to use them now because Michal is leading us down a long white and gray hallway to a bank of elevators. I’ve never been in one, but I’ve read about them, studied how they work.

  The doors open the minute Michal presses a button, and we all step in. Whoosh. In a matter of seconds the numbers ove
r the doors have gone from one to five. The elevator dings and the doors slide open to reveal a large, electrically lit lobby with shiny white tile floors. The side walls are painted blue, but the back wall is all glass, giving us a view of a large room beyond filled with tables, chairs, and people. People our age. My heart lurches. Dozens and dozens of other Testing candidates.

  The sound of a throat clearing brings my attention to an overly large woman with long curly white hair and round, gold-rimmed glasses seated behind a large wooden desk. She gives us a smile and stands.

  The woman begins to speak, and I relax. Her voice is warm and friendly as she welcomes us to Tosu City and congratulates us on being chosen for The Testing. “Most of the other candidates arrived yesterday or earlier today. Dinner is being served in the hall behind me. You can freshen up and leave your things in your rooms or you can just go straight in.”

  “I’d like to go straight in,” I say. If I am shown to my room, I might never have the courage to come out. Zandri looks like she wants to fight about it, but Tomas agrees with me and that settles the issue. Michal gives me a subtle nod and leads us down the corridor, through a door, and into the large hall we saw through the glass. I don’t think I’m imagining it when I hear the room go silent. All eyes dart to us. Take in our faces. Size us up as competition. Then the talking and eating resume.

  On the left side of the hall is a buffet table piled with food. Three servers stand behind the table as though ready to explain the choices. Several types of bread. Apples, oranges, and grapes. A red stew made with lots of vegetables and beef. Carrots and tiny onions in a light sauce, and thick steaks of some kind of fish I’ve never seen before. Michal tells me the fish is called salmon. There is a separate table filled with cakes and other sweets.

  “Grab a plate. Eat as much as you want.” As if to demonstrate, he follows his own advice.

  The four of us grab our own plates and make our selections. I take a roll filled with raisins and nuts, a small piece of salmon, an apple, and some of the carrots. Just what I can eat. But I can see other candidates do not follow that same rule. Many have more than one plate in front of them piled with food. Some are taking a taste of one thing then pushing it away in favor of something better. My father taught me to respect the food we grow and the neighbors we share our food sources with. The idea of blatantly wasting what has taken years to make, grow, and thrive makes me lose my appetite.

  The tables closest to us are all filled with candidates. They eye us as we walk down the aisle to an empty table in the back. I put my plate down and turn in time to see a large, scruffy boy with mean eyes stick his leg out in front of Malachi. Malachi loses hold of his plate, which crashes to the ground. Were it not for Tomas’s quick reflexes, Malachi would be face-first in stew.

  Despite Malachi’s dark skin, I can see embarrassment burning on his cheeks. He mumbles an apology and starts to clean up the mess, but Michal stops him. “This wasn’t your fault.” His eyes flick to the scruffy boy, who is busy shoving cake in his smirking mouth. “Why don’t you take my plate while I find someone to clean this up?”

  Malachi takes the plate and slides into a chair with his eyes cast down. His shame at causing an undignified scene is almost palpable, and I find my hands curling into fists. Rage, white and hot, burns in my blood. My family is close and encourages discussion to resolve differences. But I have four older brothers. When pushed, I know how to fight. I’m ready to do so now.

  “Cia, your food is getting cold.” Tomas’s voice reaches me through the rage. The mild words hold a warning. We are being watched. Every move counts. Save my fight for later.

  I feel my emotions deflate as I uncurl my hands, sit with my companions, and pick up my fork. Tomas nudges Malachi and whispers in his ear. Whatever he says knocks Malachi out of his stupor. He picks up his fork and starts shoveling in food. Michal returns with another plate and keeps a steady stream of conversation going while we eat. In the silences, I hear people from other tables talking about us. Wondering what colony we are. Someone speculates we are from Five Lakes, but that gets shot down with lots of laughter. Five Lakes Colony is a joke to them. The knot of worry in my stomach grows.

  I finish everything but the apple. The salmon must have tasted good, but I wasn’t paying attention to the flavors. Another group of six candidates arrives and takes a table in the back. They hurry to eat as the rest of our plates are cleared away by women in white jumpsuits. Then a voice begins to talk.

  “Welcome to Tosu City and congratulations on being chosen for The Testing.”

  It takes me a minute to find who is speaking since the sound is being broadcast from speakers positioned in every corner of the room. Through the glass window I can see the woman who greeted us holding a microphone in her hand.

  “One hundred and eight of you have assembled to be tested. At most, twenty will pass through to attend the University. I wish you all luck in being one of those who will pass.”

  Less than a one-in-five chance. Voices murmur around us. Some confident and cocky. Others surprised at the number, but trying hard not to sound worried.

  The voice over the speaker continues, “Since everyone has arrived, tomorrow morning will mark the beginning of the Testing process. In ten minutes you will report to your designated sleeping quarters. If you haven’t been assigned a room, please ask your travel escort, and he or she will get the assignment for you. I advise you to get as much rest as you can to help you in the days and weeks ahead. Good night and best of luck.”

  Michal presses a slip of paper with my room assignment into my hand and holds his there for several seconds longer than necessary. In his eyes, in the squeeze of his hands, I know he is wishing me luck. Then he is gone.

  We head out of the dining hall and split up. Girls to the right. Boys to the left.

  Zandri and I watch Malachi and Tomas disappear down the hall. Then together we look for our rooms. I’m in room 34. Zandri is in room 28. As she’s about to go inside, I give her a hug. Who knows what tomorrow might hold. I want her to do well. Surprisingly, she tightens her arms around me, and we stand like that for a moment. Bonded by years of shared experiences and the fear of what is to come. When we step back from each other, she smiles. “Give ’em hell tomorrow. You hear?”

  I nod. “You, too.” She disappears into her room, and I go in search of number 34. I find it a few doors down. Someone is moving around inside. Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle on the heavy wooden door and push.

  “Hi.” The room is large, filled with two big beds, two desks, and some chairs. It takes me a minute to spot the source of the wispy voice. When I do, I’m surprised to see it belongs to a tall, beautiful girl with broad shoulders and long blond hair. She gives me a shy smile. “I’m Ryme from Dixon Colony. I guess we’re rooming together.”

  I nod and take several steps into the room. The door clicks shut behind me. “I’m Cia from Five Lakes.”

  Her lips spread into a delighted smile. “That’s amazing. Everyone at dinner was talking about Five Lakes and saying how no one from there has been tested in years. They thought it meant the colony died or failed or something.”

  “Five Lakes is still around. We’re just small compared to other colonies.”

  “Dixon is small too.” She sits on the bed against the far wall and curls her legs up under her. “We only have about fifteen thousand people. So it was really exciting when eight of us were chosen this year.”

  Her smile is warm, and I find myself smiling back. Taking a seat on the other bed, I say, “Fifteen thousand is big to me. Five Lakes is just under a thousand.”

  “How many of you are here?”

  “Four. A quarter of our class.”

  She asks about Five Lakes. Where we are located. What kinds of foods we grow. What kinds of animals frequent the area. From what she says about her own colony, it sounds like Dixon is about three hundred miles southwest of Five Lakes. While her colony is larger, its resources aren’t as developed. Maybe with so
many people it’s just harder to stretch the resources they have, or maybe it’s because a large part of their adult population works on creating batteries and electrical supplies instead of developing the land. Since Ryme’s family runs a farm they aren’t hungry, but many in the nearby town are. Ryme says the compensation money her parents will receive is going to be used for more farming and food-storage equipment. Both will add to the food resources for her family and those around them.

  Ryme sounds proud to have a hand in providing those things to her community. Even though I planned on keeping my distance from candidates from outside my colony, I find myself liking her.

  We talk on and off for the next hour. Ryme shows me the design on her bracelet. A triangle with a decorative-looking A in the middle. Not my group. She offers to help me unpack, but I tell her I am keeping everything in my bag. Who knows when The Testing might come to an end for any of us? She smiles and agrees, although I can see two billowy dresses hanging in the closet in front of her bed. My mother would approve of the impression Ryme’s clothes will make. We both use the small bathroom adjoining our sleeping quarters, change into our pajamas, and climb into our beds. Ryme asks if we can keep the lights on for a while. She is sitting cross-legged, flipping through a photo album she brought from home. The tears in her eyes tug at my heart, reminding me that I, too, left my family behind. That if this was any other night my mother would be sitting in front of the fire, asking about my day. My father would brainstorm ideas with my brothers while we played cards around the kitchen table. Swallowing down the wave of homesickness, I tell Ryme to leave the lights on as long as she wants before I curl up under the covers.

  She thanks me. I’m about to close my eyes when she adds, “If you get hungry, I brought some corncakes from home. I made them myself. Help yourself.”

  I sleep with my bag tucked in beside me.