Extraction

by Stephanie Diaz

  Whatever I am is a small thing with little significance in a universe as wide as this one, but in this moment, I feel big. I feel like nothing can break me.

  My eyelids flutter open. Oliver flaps his arms and rises higher and higher, until his head bumps the glass ceiling. Ariadne’s laughter peals through the capsule. Oliver laughs too, and then so do I.

  We pretend we’re swimming through the air, though none of us have ever swum before. We pretend we aren’t trapped inside glass. We pretend the fake sky overhead is the real sky, but a safer sky. We pretend life stretches on forever, that it doesn’t end.

  We pretend we’re invincible.

  I don’t know how long we float, for seconds or minutes or hours. No one makes us stop. No one slaps me awake, so this must not be a dream.

  It’s the first time I understand the meaning of the word free.

  12

  “If I call your name, you’re in the physical training focus group today,” Cadet Waller says.

  We’re standing in a lobby area in Training Division, floor twelve. A female instructor sits behind a high counter to my right, tapping away on the monitor in front of her and glancing at the group of us Extractions occasionally.

  I feel a yawn tingling at the back of my throat, and try to stifle it by pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I shouldn’t be tired. I slept in until eight thirty and almost missed breakfast. But we stayed out too late in Recreation Division last night, and when I tried to fall asleep, there were suddenly knots in my stomach.

  I had fun last night. I was happy, and that doesn’t seem fair. Why should I know freedom when almost everyone I left behind won’t ever get to?

  Cadet Waller has already started reading off the names. “Andy,” she says.

  The name belongs to a Surface boy with freckles and hardly any muscle on his biceps. The brawny boys beside him snicker.

  “Hazel,” Cadet Waller says, not seeming to notice.

  Hazel is another person who looks like she’s more suited for acing exams than throwing knives at the center of a target.

  Cadet Waller’s going to call my name soon, I can already tell. I take a breath and force my worry about last night into the tiniest compartment of my mind. This is my first real day of training, and I have to be ready.

  Besides, beating myself up won’t do any good. I’m not the one keeping freedom from those in the work camps.

  Commander Charlie is.

  “Stanley,” Cadet Waller says, calling the name of a dark-skinned boy. “Oliver.”

  Oliver shifts uncomfortably.

  “Drew … Ariadne…”

  Ariadne blows the hair out of her eyes. “Knew it.”

  “William … Clementine…”

  I’m not the least bit surprised. The thought of running or lifting weights or doing whatever it is this training session will require of me doesn’t make me ecstatic. But there’s one good thing: I already know I’m fast when it comes to climbing buildings. So I must be a bit stronger than the instructors think.

  When Cadet Waller has called off the rest of the names, she looks up from her tablet with a crisp smile. “Physical group, you’re working with different instructors today—some special guests, if you will. Head through the door over there.”

  Over by the counter, the instructor who was sitting stands up and presses her thumbprint onto a small pad in the wall. A door zips open.

  “The rest of you, follow me to intelligence training,” Cadet Waller says, waving the other half of the group after her as she heads down the hallway.

  I start to follow Ariadne to the door, but my eyes skim the other group walking away. Every single person has a similar build: big and muscular, though I bet the beauty operation amplified what they already had.

  I recognize some of them—Ernest, the boy who was caught stealing from a food stockpile on the Surface; Flora, the girl in my Sector History class who liked to bully younger kids. They throw us looks of amusement as they saunter after Cadet Waller. As if their physique makes them special, when the Core needs scientists, doctors, and teachers just as much as officials, if not more.

  I turn away and put them out of my mind. Through the door, we enter a short corridor that ends with a steel archway. A boy stands just beyond it. With sandy-colored hair, knee-high boots, and a smirk tugging at his mouth.

  Sam.

  My feet falter. Oliver bumps into me from behind. “Ow,” he says.

  “Sorry,” I manage.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Sam says. “Step through the archway one at a time.”

  My heart bumps fast against my ribs. He’s one of the special guests? It makes sense, I guess. Officials do have lots of experience with physical training.

  But I don’t want Sam here. He made a fool of me yesterday. And no, it didn’t really matter—it was just me and him and two of his buddies. But what if he tries something again? If I mess up or lose focus and he says something about it, this time lots of people will hear, and might make fun of me.

  My face warms and I want to hide on a rooftop or in my bedroom. But I can’t do that. I can’t run away. I can’t let him be the reason I don’t do well in training.

  People pass ahead of me under the arch. It’s almost my turn.

  Ignore him, I tell myself. Stop caring what he thinks.

  Ariadne moves ahead of me through the archway, which lights up blue in recognition, and into the training area beyond. Sam’s eyes trail after her.

  I walk quickly forward. Maybe he won’t even notice me. Maybe I’ll get lucky.

  But of course he glances at me at the last second. The smile widens on his face. “Shorty. I was hoping you’d be here.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t be,” I mutter, giving him a wide berth as I walk past him, in case he tries to touch me or something. He doesn’t. He just laughs.

  I force the sound out of my head.

  The training area we’ve entered reminds me of the knife-throwing arena, except it’s much bigger and there are no targets or weapons on the walls. Half of the room is taken up by an elaborate obstacle course, while the other half is a smooth running track with floor mats in the middle, and some weights.

  Ariadne and the others stand on the track before five males wearing the same outfit as Sam’s. They seem older than him, though. More like actual officials than officials in training.

  I slip next to Ariadne while the last of the Extractions file into the room. Oliver joins us a second later.

  “Do you know him?” he asks, cocking his head at Sam, who’s walking over to join the other officials.

  My face warms. What am I supposed to say? Yes, I met him yesterday and made a stupid decision, and he embarrassed me. “Uh…”

  “Good morning, Extractions,” one of the officials says loudly. I’ve never been more grateful to hear one of them talking.

  He rubs his thin black mustache with his thumb, his blue eyes piercing the group. His hand rests atop the small pulse gun in his belt holster. “Can anyone tell me the square root of 2,815,684?”

  I frown, not sure if he’s serious.

  “Is it 1,652?” a tall boy with curly blond hair says. Drew, I think is his name.

  “No, it’s 1,678.” Ariadne says.

  “Correct,” the official says. “What’s the Armanahan Principle?”

  There’s an awkward silence. That’s one of those principles instructors mentioned in passing during genetics lab.

  But I remember: “Allele and genotype frequencies remain constant in a population from generation to generation unless specific disturbing influences are introduced.”

  Sam eyes me curiously. Oliver stares out of the corner of my eye. Drew and a couple other Extractions mumble something.

  The official smiles, though it doesn’t soften his face. “Very good. Just wanted to make sure I’m working with the right group. My name is Colonel Parker. I’m the leader of Core patrol Squadron A, and these are a couple of my lieutenants.”

  I glance at Sam,
my mouth falling open a little. He’s a lieutenant? I’m pretty sure that’s the highest rank for officials below colonel. He seems too young, maybe a year older than me at most.

  His lip curls when he catches me watching him. I look away, my cheeks hot.

  “We’re working on physical conditioning today, as Cadet Waller already told you,” Colonel Parker says. “Now, I know some of you think exercise will be completely irrelevant to your future occupation, since most of you would prefer laboratory work over work as an official or a general for the military corps. But you’re gonna have to get over it, because this is how we do things here. Exercise is a frequent part of daily life. We don’t want you to be as weak as those kids in the work camps. We want you to be stronger. Fiercer. Better.”

  “Aren’t we better already, sir?” the dark-skinned boy, Stanley, asks.

  Sam grins. “Of course.”

  Colonel Parker doesn’t argue. Neither does anyone else.

  I want to say something. I want to tell them they’re wrong, we’re not better than anyone in the camps. The only difference between us and them is the clothes we’re wearing, and the food we eat down here, and the lack of scars on our faces.

  The only difference is we got lucky, and they didn’t.

  “Let’s get started,” Colonel Parker says. “Give me ten laps for a warm-up.”

  “Ten?” a girl protests.

  The track is pretty big. Ten laps seems like well over a mile.

  “Get moving,” Parker barks. “I don’t tolerate whiners. Keep in mind we’re not the only ones watching.”

  My eyes flit to the room’s perimeter, looking automatically for cam-bots. But I haven’t seen any of those in the Core. That doesn’t mean Parker is lying, though.

  I start to run alongside Ariadne and Oliver. Slowly at first to get used to the feeling, and then I pick up my pace, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. I can’t slow down, no matter how tired I get. I have to impress Commander Charlie.

  And I won’t give Sam one more reason to laugh.

  *

  Ten laps, twenty push-ups, and one hundred sit-ups later, I’m pretty sure Sam is laughing. I refuse to look at him to check. I’m leaning over a mat, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My calves are screaming, and my clothes are soaked with sweat.

  “Now that you’re warmed up,” Colonel Parker says, “follow me.”

  He and the lieutenants make for the obstacle course.

  “They can’t be serious,” Oliver says, stumbling after them. He has an arm around his stomach, and his face is almost green.

  “Remember the surgery?” Ariadne says. Her face glistens with sweat, but she’s standing a bit straighter than I am.

  “What about it?” I ask.

  “I think it made me stronger.”

  Wiping my forehead with the back of my wrist, I do a quick glance over my body. She might be right. My leg muscles are on fire, but I can walk all right, and my arms don’t actually hurt that much. My biceps and pectorals—the muscles I use the most for climbing and wrenching up bad crops in the fields—sting, but they don’t ache. I can flex them fine.

  “Maybe a little,” Oliver mumbles. “But not much.”

  “Maybe you were just weaker than everyone to begin with,” Ariadne says, sticking her tongue out.

  Oliver’s cheeks flush.

  We’re almost to the obstacle course. It’s an enormous complex surrounded by a high steel wall that hides most of what’s inside the course. I glimpse high handlebars and rope swings. Part of the course is a climbing tower that stretches far up to the ceiling. There aren’t any ladder rungs or ropes attached to it, as far as I can tell. It seems impossible to climb.

  But part of me itches to try it.

  Colonel Parker, Sam, and the other lieutenants stop next to the entrance to the course, a ladder leading to the top of the outer wall.

  “This course is the final segment of CODA, a test for incoming patrolmen—the Core Official Development Aptitude test,” Parker says. “Anyone who wants to be an official must finish this course in under four minutes and thirty seconds in order to complete their training. The fastest time recorded is three minutes and seven seconds, held by Sam here.”

  Sam folds his arms and scans the group of us with that smugness in his eyes.

  “Since this is your first day of physical training,” Parker continues, “I don’t expect you to do it that fast today. But you should aim for under seven minutes. The most difficult part of the course is the final stage, that tower you see over there. You can’t see them from here, but there are thin, sturdy ropes designed to help you reach the top. Some of you might not be strong enough yet, and that’s okay. I do want you to attempt it. Once you reach the top, there are ladder rungs to help you get down on the far side. Some people prefer not to use them. There is a system in place that will keep you from injury if you fall or jump. And jumping might get you down faster.”

  “What sort of system?” someone asks.

  “I’ll let you figure that out for yourself,” Parker says with a smile. He removes a small scanner from his pocket, like the kind Surface officials wear as part of their uniforms.

  “Go ahead and line up,” he says. “I’ll cue each of you when to start. Hold the number on your wrist out for me when I tell you. We’ll keep track of your time.”

  Stanley, Drew, and others rush to the front of the line. I’m not so eager, since Parker didn’t say it matters if we go first or last. I’d rather see how the others are doing. I end up near the back behind Oliver and Ariadne.

  Three of the lieutenants slip through doors into different areas of the obstacle course, probably to keep an eye on us from the inside. Sam heads for the end of the course, over by the tower.

  “Begin,” Parker says at the front of the line, and Drew waves his wrist over the scanner Parker had in his pocket. There’s a beep and he’s gone, heaving himself up the ladder to the top of the high steel wall. He swings one leg, then the other over the top, and disappears.

  Five seconds later, Parker cues Stanley, and he takes off.

  “You think they really just want to make us ‘well-rounded’ citizens?” Oliver asks, his ragged breath betraying how tired he still is from the warm-up. “This seems a little much.”

  “Begin,” Parker says to the girl in line after Stanley.

  “Maybe they’re trying to turn us into soldiers,” Ariadne says, twisting her mouth in contemplation.

  I almost snort, but stop myself. She’s sort of right. We’re training in the same arena as officials, after all.

  But they can’t actually be turning us into soldiers. They need those of us with high intelligence to be scientists and medical personnel, like Commander Charlie said. It’s not like we’re fighting a war.

  “Next,” Parker says. It’s Oliver’s turn already.

  He slides his arm over the scanner. I can’t see his face, but I bet he’s avoiding Parker’s stern gaze. I know I would be.

  Beep.

  He starts up the rungs.

  Ariadne moves to the scanner.

  Beep.

  She takes off.

  It’s my turn. I take a deep breath and step forward, holding my wrist up to Parker’s scanner. My eyes skim the top of the wall. I wish I could see through steel, so I could tell what’s on the other side. This is my first opportunity to prove myself, after all.

  Three minutes and seven seconds. That’s how long it took Sam to finish this course. That’s the time I have to beat.

  My citizenship number pops up on the scanner: S68477.

  Beep.

  The timer starts. I grab the highest ladder rung I can reach and pull myself up, already counting the seconds in my head. One, two, three …

  My legs aren’t happy with me. My calves strain with every step, but I do my best to ignore them.

  At the top of the ladder, I swing my leg over the wall and give myself two seconds to take in what’s on the other side: A platform si
ts about three feet below me, some ten feet above the ground, where one of the lieutenants stands with his arms folded. The platform leads to three sets of handlebars. Oliver is almost to the end of the middle set. Ariadne is halfway across the set on the right.

  I swing my other leg over the wall and drop down, bending my knees when I land so I won’t hurt my feet. Pain slices through them anyway. I clench my teeth. Focus.

  Two steps and I’m gripping the first bar with one hand. I reach out to grab the next. I should’ve wiped my palms on my clothes first. They’re sweaty. I’m breathing hard, and I’m afraid I’ll slip, but I reach for the next bar anyway. And the next, trying not to think about whether the bones in my legs will snap if I fall and hit the ground.

  I reach the end platform at the same time as Ariadne. This time there are ropes to help us climb the next wall, which looks about twice my height.

  But there are no footholds. I’ll have to depend entirely on my arms.

  I grab the rope, heaving myself up. Ariadne does the same beside me, her face pale, her eyes focused. I try to keep holding on so I can push my feet against the rope and move higher. The rope sways from my weight. I lose my grip and fall hard on the platform.

  Wincing, I push off the ground even though I haven’t really recovered. I can’t quite remember why I’m doing this. But I can’t afford to waste any time.

  I try to climb the rope again, visualizing all the strength in my body seeping into my arms as if strength were made of liquid. After too many seconds, I manage to pull myself up to the top, and then reach and grab hold of the wall’s edge and drag myself up the rest of the way. I’m breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.

  I see what’s on the other side of the wall, and my heart’s rhythmic beating speeds up about 10 percent.

  This time, there’s a thick steel pipe—one of five in total—about three feet below me instead of a platform. Below the pipes lies a pit of murky water instead of the ground.

  Oliver crosses the pipe next to mine, shaky. Three other Extractions are also still crossing.

  There’s a splash. A girl slipped off one of the pipes and fell.

  I watch her come up for air, sputtering, and flail her arms about. A lieutenant pokes out of a hole in the wall and reaches to help her.