by Simone Pond
Ava nodded respectfully. “Sounds fair enough,” she said.
“You have to promise not to sic Sam on me.”
At that, Ava laughed. “I promise,” she said, reaching out to shake her daughter’s hand to seal their agreement.
Joseph pulled them in for a group hug. “I knew you’d work it out. I’m not happy about losing both of you for six months. Although, it will be a lot quieter around here.”
Grace went to her room to pack a bag. The academy would provide uniforms and whatever else she’d need for daily use. But she wanted to bring a few personal things to remind her of home. She packed a book about sword fighting her father had given her on her tenth birthday and a photograph of her parents holding her when she was a baby. She took down her sword from its place on the wall and set it next to her bag. She might not be assigned to combat training, but she’d never leave her sword behind.
7
The next morning the four cadets, along with Ava and Sam, took a shuttle to the main station in Santa Barbara, where they caught the eight a.m. train for the adventure north. They chatted excitedly about the academy program and living in a big city for the next six months. Even Blythe was making an effort to be sociable. But Grace felt a little resentful about losing combat to Marion, so she kept her distance from the group and sat by herself in the back.
As the train traveled north to Silicon Valley, Grace stared at the ocean, watching the waves sparkle across its glass surface and contemplating her future. Things would be different from this point forward—the academy would provide great opportunities and possibilities. A chance to do something important. She’d finally be able to make a name for herself instead of living off the reputation of her parents. Getting through Search & Rescue training would procure a substantial position in the military. If she were going to make her mark, this would be her ticket.
A few hours later, the train arrived in Silicon Valley. From there the group took a transporter to the academy, where they met Director Faraday in the lobby. Grace marveled over the size of the enormous structure—it seemed to reach the clouds and take up at least two city blocks. One could get lost in the labyrinth of hallways and various sectors.
Director Faraday was an older gentleman with silver hair and a matching beard that he liked to stroke a lot. He wore a pale blue lab coat, which matched the color of his eyes.
“Good morning, and welcome to the academy. I’m Director Faraday.” His voice echoed throughout the lobby. “We’re looking forward to the semester ahead. After you get settled, lunch will be served in the cafeteria and orientation will follow immediately after. If you have any questions about the academy, the campus, or anything related to Silicon Valley, everything you need to know will be found in your personal tablets. They will provide detailed information during your stay at the academy for the next six months. These devices will provide your schedules, GPS, communications, and entertainment—the last to be used in the evening hours, of course. Additionally, your rooms are set up on voice command for controlling the temperature, lighting, and ambience.”
He handed out the stack of thin, book-like devices to the cadets. “I trust you’ll figure out the technology—after all, you were selected into the academy. Good day.” He shuffled off into the shadows.
Grace activated her tablet. The screen lit up with maps, schedules, and lists of information. She pulled up her room information, and without waiting for the others she went to find the nearest transporter.
The transporter took her to the twenty-first floor and she entered her room. It took a few moments to realize this glorious space was all hers for the next six months. The décor was minimalist, with soft cream-colored tones. There was a large bed, a study station, and a lounger. The walk-in closet, which might have been the same size of her room back at home, was already stocked with uniforms. She had her own private bathroom. This place made her cabin in Ojai look like a dilapidated shack. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Silicon Valley and its vast web of intricate byways that reached out for miles. Silicon Valley was much larger than New Los Angeles. To give the place a small personal touch, she set her photograph and the book on sword fighting on the nightstand. The sword went on the top shelf in the closet for safekeeping. Though she already had a shower, she figured another one wouldn’t hurt.
After she washed away years of village grime and dirt, she changed into one of the pale blue jumpsuits made of thin, but durable, material. Then she made a running leap onto the fluffy bed and sank into the soft comforter and pillows.
“Dim lights,” she instructed the room control panel.
The windows shifted to black and a soft, ambient light spread throughout the room.
“Set alarm for 11:45 a.m.”
She rested her head, luxuriating in her new palace of comfort . . .
It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when a chiming came from her tablet, alerting her that lunch would begin in fifteen minutes. Grace jumped out of bed, put on a pair of sneakers, and headed down to the cafeteria.
Inside the cafeteria, hundreds of unfamiliar faces gathered at the lunch tables. The place was vast and sterile—very different from the Cantina back home. She looked around for Marion, hoping her friend would be forgiving about the cold shoulder. But there were too many people wandering around, looking wide-eyed and bewildered. As she scanned the room she spotted Lucas and did a quick about-face, praying he didn’t see her. She touched the spot on her forehead where the wound had scabbed over. Her heartbeat sped up as she sensed his presence moving in closer. There wasn’t enough room in her schedule for any distractions. She pretended to focus on the people ahead.
There was a soft tap on her shoulder that reverberated throughout her entire body. She casually turned around.
“Hi, Grace.” Lucas stood there smiling with his perfect teeth.
“Oh, hi.” She tried to play it cool, but her voice came out squeaky.
“Guess you did well in tryouts,” he said, extending his hand to congratulate her. “Glad you made it.”
Grace shook his hand, wishing her palms weren’t so clammy. She couldn’t understand why this Insider was throwing her off her game. She needed to snap out of it and fast. This was a learning place, not a place to meet a guy. She stiffed up and steadied herself. “Thank you, it’s an honor to be here,” she used her most professional tone.
“I guess the battle wound gave you some cred.” He was being playful, but she kept up her guard and just nodded. “Combat will be lucky to have you on board,” he said.
“Actually, I got Search and Rescue,” she said, grabbing a tray.
“S & R? That’s hardcore. You must be stoked.” Lucas studied her for a moment. “Right?” he asked.
“It’ll be a good challenge.” Grace grabbed a few protein shakes from the display case, wondering if that’s what they considered food at the academy.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Grace looked at her tray and felt embarrassed. “We have a big day ahead of us.” She faked a smile and turned to leave.
“Hey, maybe we can check out the city sometime?”
“I see my friend. I’ll catch up later.” She walked off to join Blythe at one of the tables. Not the person she was looking for, but better than talking to Lucas. She felt too weird and rubbery in his presence.
Grace sat down across from Blythe, not looking at her.
“Dang. Others gotta eat too,” Blythe said.
“Shut up,” she said.
“You might wanna keep the calorie intake to a minimum. Jumpsuits might get too tight.” Blythe’s smile looked more like death-wish glare.
“While we’re at the academy can you mind your own business?”
“You’re the one who sat down at my table. I know you’re trying to avoid that Insider.”
“Please, stay out of it.”
“Grace and what’s his name, swingin’ from a tree . . .”
“Are you serious?”
Blythe chugged down t
he rest of her protein shake. Grace glanced around the room, observing the other cadets. Most of them were Insiders from varying city centers throughout the country, but there were Outsiders interspersed. They were easy to spot—their scruffiness contrasted with the pristine Insiders. The academy wanted a mixture of backgrounds, but judging from the ratio, not too much variety. She spotted Marion sitting at a table of buffed-out cadets who were most likely in her training division. Ever the optimist, she didn’t waste time getting to know her peers. She had her hair pulled back, which gave her a more serious and less conspicuous appearance. Grace held up her hand to get Marion’s attention, but she was too busy chatting with the others.
“Aw, did your bestie sell you out for some higher-grade friends?” Blythe asked.
“You know, if we’re ever in a scenario where you need medical attention, you’re screwed.”
“I think we’re all screwed if you’re in charge of anything medical related.”
Grace rolled her eyes, pretending not to be bothered by the comment. But it deep down she knew Blythe was right. She got up to find orientation.
The assembly room was a large half-dome auditorium with stadium seating that faced a large screen. Grace took a seat in the back row and observed the other cadets as they entered the room. Their enthusiasm and chatter filled the place. She concentrated on the screen ahead, not wanting to interact with anyone.
“I’m not stalking you. I swear,” Lucas said, sitting next to her.
“Do I have a tracker on me or something?” she joked, but it came out all wrong.
He stood up to leave.
“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.
“No, it’s cool. I see a buddy.”
She didn’t know how to apologize without sounding weak. Instead she let him walk off.
A voice came through the assembly room. “Cadets, please be seated. Orientation begins in sixty seconds.”
The cadets took their seats and sat still. The theater screen lit up, displaying an aerial view of the academy. The academy became a 3D hologram with certain sections lit up to highlight specific areas within the various buildings. A list of stats came up. There were approximately 9,000 cadets with varying degrees on campus and a faculty of 250 instructors—with Director Faraday overseeing the impressive operation.
Director Faraday came out on the stage wearing his light blue lab coat. He stroked his silver beard and grinned at the audience. He was a peculiar one.
“Welcome to our newest recruits. We’re quite pleased to have you at the academy. We’ve been fully functioning since 2330, and for the last fifteen years our academy has become the most notable military and communications-training center in the country. Our graduates go on to become great leaders. Each contributing to the ongoing efforts to maintain our free nation.”
The audience clapped as the screen displayed images of previous graduates who were now officers. Grace couldn’t wait to be among them.
Director Faraday continued. “Training can be quite grueling and not all cadets are able to make the sacrifices required to graduate the program. In fact, there will be a handful of you who drop out in the first month. The work can be so demanding that our faculty has instituted a gala event at the end of the first month for those who have survived. This is often referred to by cadets as the Survivor’s Shuffle.”
The cadets laughed. Grace didn’t.
He continued with his speech. “Until then we will put each of you to the test. In just a few moments, all cadets will be plugged into the virtual system for an aptitude assessment in their specific area of expertise. We will select team assignments and team leaders based on today’s performance.”
That was the first Grace had heard of team leaders. What if she got stuck with Blythe as her team leader? The thought of that possible outcome was enough incentive for her to perform beyond her best—regardless of how she felt about Search and Rescue. This test would determine the fate of her next six months.
“Inside the right arm of your chair you will find an individual system panel which will connect you to the virtual program. Results will be sent to your tablets this evening. Again, congratulations to all of you. I hope you will make the most of this opportunity.”
Director Faraday bowed to the audience and walked off stage.
Grace maneuvered her hand into the arm of her chair and pressed down into the grove to connect with the system panel . . .
Inside the program, Grace found herself standing in the middle of a desolate boulevard. Alongside were countless buildings butted up against each other, each one plastered with enormous advertisements. Different types of cars were parked along the street, but there were no signs of life. From the looks of her surroundings, she was somewhere in the past. But where? She walked to the closest intersection and read the blue street sign.
“Sunset Boulevard,” she said.
The infamous boulevard had been obliterated during the Repatterning over three hundred years earlier. In the virtual, everything was still intact—although abandoned. It had to be the early stages of the Repatterning—before the real insanity had started. Otherwise, she’d be standing in a field of nothing. Something shot across the sky, leaving a trail of white smoke. In the distance, a thunderous explosion shook the ground. Another object zoomed overhead—it launched a missile straight into one of the grand hotels. The beautiful white building crumbled to the ground in seconds, causing a domino effect with the surrounding buildings. Everything started to collapse along the boulevard. Chunks of concrete smashed to the ground, crushing cars and cracking through the sidewalks. She knew the program was designed to test her search and rescue abilities, but she needed to find shelter before she became a casualty. She started running toward the clapped-out brick building with a flashing sign that read LIQUOR, when another missile zipped down the middle of the boulevard. She dove behind a black car just as the blast rumbled through the street.
“Like that’s gonna help,” a voice came from behind.
She turned to find Blythe staggering toward her. Blood poured out of a gash in her cheek. A wave of queasiness curdled through Grace’s stomach. This was the first test and it was a killer—she had to rescue the one person she couldn’t stand.
She went over to Blythe and held her up so she wouldn’t fall to the cement. “You’re cut pretty bad. Oh, man. I can’t look,” she said, turning away.
“Wimp . . .” Blythe mumbled, losing her strength by the second.
Another bomb dropped, taking out another few buildings.
“I need to get you out of the street,” Grace yelled over the noise. She started pulling Blythe toward the liquor store across the street.
Blythe dragged behind and dropped to the ground. “Go on without me,” she gurgled through the blood filling her mouth.
“That’s a negative. I’m not failing this test. I’ll get you inside and take care of that wound,” she told Blythe.
Grace half-carried, half-dragged Blythe over to the building and set her down in the alcove. The front door was locked. She grabbed a huge rock and smashed the front window and climbed inside, leaving Blythe outside on the pavement. Blasts continued down the boulevard. She ducked behind the counter and rummaged around. She didn’t find any first-aid kit, but she found a pair of car keys. She pressed the red buttons on the key fob, and a dark blue sedan out front beeped and flashed. She ran over to the front door and unlocked it. By the time she bent down to lift Blythe, it was too late. She was dead.
“Gracie!” Marion yelled from across the street.
“Stay where you are. I’m coming!”
She ran toward the car without scoping the area first, and a spray of bullets shot past. She ducked back into the alcove. Marion scanned the area and gave Grace the thumbs up that it was all clear. She jumped into the car and started the engine. It didn’t have any gears like the Jeeps back home, so she put it in drive and pressed down on the gas pedal, slamming into the next car. She kept turning the wheel and rammin
g the car forward, scraping the other one until she was able to get out of the spot. She pulled away and barreled toward Marion.
“Get in!” she yelled.
Marion jumped into the passenger seat. Grace pulled away and headed down the boulevard in the opposite direction of the bombings. Out of nowhere a truck zipped around the corner, heading straight toward them.
“Reverse it!” Marion yelled.
“No—I can take them.”
“Are you nuts? Back up!”
Grace didn’t listen to Marion and pressed down on the gas. Both cars were heading directly toward each other like an apocalyptic game of chicken. The truck zoomed out of the way, passing Grace on the left. The driver fired shots into their car, missing Grace. She kept driving, careening through the streets until the blasts coming off Sunset Boulevard were far behind them.
“See, I told you I could take them,” she said, gloating.
Marion remained silent.
Grace glanced over at her best friend and noticed a bullet hole in her forehead.
“Marion!” Grace slammed on the breaks and shook Marion, trying to wake her up. She pumped on her chest and gave her mouth-to-mouth, but her efforts were pointless—Marion was dead . . .
The program ended, and Grace woke up in the assembly room. Many of the cadets were still plugged in. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face, and she felt sick to her stomach. That did not go well. Claustrophobia started to set in, and she needed to get some air. She jumped up and exited the assembly room as fast as she could.
8
Grace found a courtyard where she hoped to find some solace from the jarring experience of the virtual aptitude test. Though none of it was real, seeing that bullet hole in Marion’s head was unsettling. She pulled out her tablet and chimed Marion.
