The Testing

by Joelle Charbonneau

  I skim through the next file. Another failed student. Another Redirection. This one also from last year. As I quickly scan the pages, I notice that all the files stacked here are from the past ten years. No students previous to that time are included. All were Redirected. The older the application file is, the fewer notations in the margins. Not a single question is written for those who applied a decade past. As I do the math, I notice something else. Unless files are missing, over three times as many students were Redirected ten years ago than last year.

  “What did you find?” Raffe asks.

  “I’m not sure,” I say. Or maybe I am and I don’t want to admit that what I’m seeing is real. Dr. Barnes is the force behind The Testing. He’s the one who created tests that kill and who turned failed University applicants into resources to be experimented on. And yet, if these files are authentic, he’s been working to convince applicants he believes are doomed to fail to choose another path before they make a choice they cannot take back. Just as he did with Raffe’s sister. Why?

  “Maybe officials who traveled to the colonies began to notice that none of the Redirected students were ever seen there,” Raffe suggests when I explain what I’ve found. “Limiting the number of unsuccessful applicants means fewer questions he’ll have to answer for officials and families here in Tosu.”

  That makes sense. Especially since President Collindar took office just six years ago. I glance at the clock on my watch. Our ten minutes are up. We need to get moving.

  “Did you find anything?” I ask.

  “A couple of reports suggesting The Testing be limited to a hundred candidates. During the past several years a larger percentage than is acceptable to Dr. Barnes has been eliminated during the first examination. Nothing that helps figure out where Dr. Barnes is now.” Raffe frowns. “Although there’s also a calendar that shows the scheduled meetings for this year’s selection of Testing candidates, along with the preliminary names.”

  Raffe holds out the papers and I cross the room and take them. The first page is a list of potential candidates. My soul aches as I read name after name, along with the colonies they belong to. Finally I come to Five Lakes Colony and the names Daileen Dasho, Lyane Maddows, and Christoph Nusman. All students I know. I have played sports with them and studied beside them. All three will celebrate their selection for The Testing, not knowing that the price of failure is more than they should ever be forced to pay. Pushing aside the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me, I flip to the calendar. There was a meeting of the committee earlier today at The Testing Center. I doubt Dr. Barnes would have missed it. The meeting must have ended hours ago. Dr. Barnes could have left after it was over, but this is the only clue we have as to his whereabouts. We have no choice but to follow it.

  When I tell Raffe we are headed to campus, he says, “Before we leave, there’s something you need to see. There’s a file here with your name on it.”

  He places the file in my hand and watches as I open it. The paper is the same gray color as the one given to me by President Collindar. Only this time, instead of finding Dr. Barnes’s name and information inside, I find my own.

  Malencia Vale.

  Age at Testing: 16

  Colony: Five Lakes

  Group: Wide range of aptitude

  Defining attribute: Mechanical Ability

  First round Testing: Pass

  Notes: Strong emotional reaction to candidate self-termination. Will watch to see if this affects future Testing.

  Second round Testing: Pass

  Notes: Again, strong emotional reaction to candidate failure. Yet still completed this test.

  Third round Testing: Pass

  Notes: Unusual need to aid teammates when allowing those teammates to fail would bring candidate closer to achieving her goal. Her personal beliefs are in conflict with the committee’s criteria for passage to the University. However, strong demonstration of candidate’s ability to trust her instincts and persuade others makes her unique. I believe she is my best chance and have taken steps to go around my colleagues in an effort to aid and test her further in round four.

  Best chance? I read the line again. Best chance of what? Was Dr. Barnes the reason Symon gave me food, water, and the vial that helped me in my interview? From what I see here, it appears he must be. But why? I don’t understand.

  Fourth round of Testing: Failure recommended by staff. Candidate is not questioning enough of others and not committed enough to her agenda to do whatever is necessary for the country’s future development. Does not have a strong enough personality to make difficult choices.

  Failure. I shake my head and read the words again. Not a strong enough personality. If the committee sought to eliminate me as a candidate, why was I accepted?

  Interview: Candidate surprised committee with emotional restraint and strongly worded responses. Some have been swayed to allow her passage. Most have not.

  Committee recommendation: Failure

  Final result: Pass

  Despite everything I did, the committee believed I had failed. Those words on the page make my knees go weak. It shouldn’t matter what The Testing officials believed. But seeing proof that I was not good enough or strong enough to them is like a slap in the face. My best wasn’t worthy of their acceptance.

  “None of this makes sense,” I say, looking up from the folder. “Why did I pass The Testing if the committee recommended I fail?”

  Raffe shakes his head. “It looks like Dr. Barnes intervened. Maybe that’s the reason Professor Holt has been upset about your presence at the University from the first day you arrived in her residence. She would have known you had been marked for failure and yet somehow survived. What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know.” And there is only one way to find out. I pick up my bag and shove the folder inside. “We have to find Dr. Barnes. Let’s go.”

  Raffe glances around the room. “I don’t know if it’s important, but it just occurred to me what’s been bothering me since we got here. The lamp in this room was on. Dr. Barnes would never have left a light on all day by mistake.”

  “Why . . .” I don’t ask the rest of the question because I guess the answer. Dr. Barnes left the light on because he wants people to think he is here. The Safety patrols that roam this street, even though all other officials are looking on the other side of the city for whoever set the explosives.

  This is a trap.

  Chapter 18

  RAFFE AND I look around the room for a sign that I am right and find it beneath the desk. A black box with wires and a blinking light. An explosive. Is it on a timer or is it waiting to be tripped by something else? It’s impossible to say. Only one thing is clear. “We have to get out of here.”

  Raffe must agree, because he grabs his things and is right behind me as I hurry into the hall. We are halfway down the stairs when a door somewhere below us closes.

  I turn off my flashlight and consider our options. Going upstairs will get us out of sight, but this is the only staircase down. If we hide in one of the second-story rooms, we risk being stuck in our hiding place. So I hurry down the stairs as quickly as I can. The front door is only about twenty steps to the right, but when I calculate the time it will take to get there, unlock the door, and get out, I discard that option. Especially since I hear the sound of footsteps from somewhere in the back of the house.

  Grabbing Raffe’s hand, I race down the last six stairs, race to my left, and duck behind the sofa. Raffe joins me just as the lights in this area flare to life.

  “You two, stay here,” a familiar voice says quietly.

  Symon. If he’s here, what happened to Zeen?

  Raffe stiffens beside me. He too has recognized the voice.

  The carpet dulls the sound of footsteps as Symon climbs the stairs, but what I do hear makes me think more than one person made the ascent. A few minutes later, Symon calls down, “He’s not here yet. We’ll wait. Turn off the lights. One of you go to each end of the block
and hold that position. The minute you see him, signal me.”

  The lights blink out. Footsteps disappear down the hallway, toward the back of the house. A door slams upstairs. The minute Raffe hears that, he peers around the side of the sofa. He waits for a moment and then whispers, “Stay there,” as he slips out from behind the couch. Several seconds later he returns, taps me on the shoulder, and motions for me to follow him.

  Slowly we cross the dark room, careful to steer clear of the furnishings and avoid making noise. I want to go up the stairs, demand to know where my brother is, and put a bullet in Symon’s head. But if Symon sets off Dr. Barnes’s trap, I don’t want to be caught in it too. I brush my fingers along the wall to guide me and am relieved when the hall opens into the kitchen.

  When I head for the door, Raffe grabs my hand and whispers, “We have to split up. If you move fast, the two people he sent to guard the ends of the street won’t yet be in position. You’ll get out of the area without being seen and be able to get back to campus. Go to The Testing Center. I’ll deal with Symon. You have to find Dr. Barnes.”

  “You saw what’s in his office. You can’t go up there.”

  “Symon’s working with him. He has to know about the bomb. There’s no choice. We have to eliminate him.”

  “Then I’ll stay.” If Symon knows anything about Zeen, I might be able to find that out before I pull the trigger.

  Raffe shakes his head. “The minute a gun is fired, the guards will come running. Knowing this neighborhood is the only thing that’s going to help me get away.” He walks me toward the door and takes my hand. “This is our only shot at getting them both. You know I’m right.”

  I don’t want to agree, but I do. Raffe has a better chance alone. I have to trust him to do this. Just as he is trusting me.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I whisper.

  Raffe leans forward. His lips press against my cheek. His fingers tighten around mine as he whispers, “You will. Be careful when you get to campus. The rebel students could cause you more problems than the Safety officials. And just in case something goes wrong here, I need you to do something for me. Find my sister and tell her I’m sorry. I never thought I’d trust someone the way I trusted Emilie, let alone someone from the colonies. But I believe in you. You’ll do what’s right.”

  Then he’s gone. He slips into the shadows of the hallway. Out of sight.

  Outside, the breeze is cool on my face. I close the door quietly behind me and slowly look from side to side. When I see and hear nothing, I consider which way to go. Since the guards are posted to the west and east, I run north and realize why Symon did not worry about someone approaching from this direction. Fifty yards from the house is a large wall that stands at least eight feet high and spans the length of this block. The barrier is made of smooth stone. There is nowhere to get a good handhold, and I can’t reach the top without a boost.

  Squinting into the darkness, I spot a tree about twenty feet away and head for it. The willow tops the wall by five or six feet. The tree is fairly young. Probably about four years old. I pull on one of the lower-hanging branches. It’s thin. Supple. Not ideal for climbing, but this is the only one I see that is close set enough to the stone wall to be of help.

  Still, the tree stands about eight feet away, which means I will have to climb as high as possible for this to work. I shift my bag so it doesn’t get caught on the branches, put one foot on the trunk, and pull myself up. The lowest-hanging limb bends under my weight but doesn’t break.

  I reach as close to the top as I dare, position my feet on two V’s near the trunk where the branches are sturdiest, and take a deep breath. The sound of gunshots makes me flinch. Raffe. I force myself not to look behind me. Instead I grab the thin center of the tree as the branch under my left foot breaks and smashes to the ground.

  I hear shouts. More shots. The limbs sag as I quickly step from one fork to another. At the third fork, I push off hard and extend my arms as I jump toward the wall. My chest makes contact with the top of the stone barrier. I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out as I start to slide down. The stone grates against my fingers but I refuse to let go. My arms tremble. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I almost lose my grip as an explosion roars behind me. I finally find a good holding spot with my boots and use my leg muscles to propel me up and over. Before I drop to the other side, I catch a glimpse of smoke and licks of fire coming from Dr. Barnes’s house. I allow myself five seconds of hope as I scan the area for Raffe before I let go of my grip, drop to the other side, and run.

  I race across the grass, run between two houses, and reach the street on the other side. Beams from flashlights cut through the darkness as people awakened by the sounds come out of their homes.

  Everyone looks scared. I’m certain I do. Between the spectacle of the fire and the fear, no one gives me a second look as I walk quickly down the street. Away from the flames. Away from Raffe. If he survived the explosion, he might at this very moment need my help. But I do not turn, because he would never forgive me for risking our mission. As I walk, I can only wonder who will be next and if anything we do is worth the price paid.

  When I can no longer hear the shout of voices, I duck under a bush and pull out the Transit Communicator. I select the coordinates for the Government Studies residence that I saved in the device during Induction. I am a half mile from campus. If I start walking now, I should be there in less than ten minutes. I look at the moon and try to judge the time that has passed since Tomas, Stacia, Raffe, and I left the house. Two hours? Three? It seems impossible that so much has happened in so little time. Raffe is probably dead. Zeen still does not answer my calls. Tomas and Stacia were okay when Tomas left his message, but who knows where they are now.

  I push to my feet. My legs tremble as I shift my bag back onto my shoulder and start walking. Slowly at first, then faster until I am running as fast as I can. The sooner I find Dr. Barnes, the sooner everything will be over. The Testing. The experiments on Raffe’s sister and the other failed students. The deaths I’ve been asked to execute. All of it. It has to end.

  My lungs burn. My pulse pounds. Both make me feel alive. It isn’t until I see familiar landmarks that tell me I am only a block from the University gates that I slow. I click the Call button on the Communicator one last time, not caring if Zeen speaks and someone else overhears. I need to hear his voice. But the device stays silent. I feel a part of my heart go still as I slide it back into my bag and exchange it for the pulse radio. The indicator light is dark. Recording a whispered message, I tell Tomas, Stacia, and Will that I am currently headed to where we began this journey. Then I press Send. Instead of putting the radio back in my bag, I slide it into my jacket pocket to keep the thought of Tomas close, and I start moving through the shadows.

  The archway of the University entrance comes into view. Seeing it again, I remember how I felt the first time I rode beneath it. Tomas, Malachi, and Zandri were beside me as we spotted the wrought-iron sign that reads THE UNIVERSITY OF THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH. Despite my father’s warnings, I felt excitement and hope. I do not cross under the archway now. If anyone suspects I’m on my way here, this is where they will wait. Instead, I head toward the TU Administration building on the edge of campus.

  I’m careful to keep my tread light so no one nearby hears me as I walk through the darkness, listening for sounds of officials or rebels lurking nearby and thinking of the day I left Five Lakes Colony. Before The Testing. When I trusted others but was not always sure I trusted myself.

  Heading toward where this all started, I think I finally understand why The Testing was created. In a time when each decision could mean the difference between a country rebuilt and one that becomes too broken to repair, the founders of The Testing were not willing to trust anyone’s best intentions. They needed leaders who were not just smart or kind or nice, but who were capable of making the tough choices that most people would not want to make. Of putting necessity above all else and a
cting on it without hesitation.

  Stacia is right. President Dalton faltered. His wasn’t the worst mistake, but historians say that by the Fourth Stage of War it was clear that peace talks had no chance of prevailing. Despite so many deaths and so much destruction, the leaders of the main alliances still believed their desire for conquest could be fulfilled. They had invested too much to step back. Doing so would have been akin to admitting they were wrong. The only measure that could have stopped the Fourth Stage from progressing would have been to eliminate the leaders who were marching the world toward destruction. Had that happened, perhaps those who took their place could have seen the futility of the devastation around them and taken steps to end the war.

  But that didn’t happen. The leaders pushed forward with their war and the world collapsed. The United Commonwealth rose from the ashes of that world, and The Testing was created to ensure that leaders would not fail like that again. But while The Testing seeks to push candidates to show what they are capable of, it fails to recognize that different circumstances bring about different results. The Testing committee believed I should be cast as one who failed because I couldn’t do what was necessary. How I passed is still a mystery, but the journey I make now shows how wrong they were.