Considering the ice to be broken among his fellow candidates, at least enough to allow a question, Roshike looked around at the rest. “I wonder what this is all supposed to be. She said something about testing, didn’t she?”
It was the tall, gaunt young man who responded. “That guy was a med tech, so this has to be the medical testing phase.”
Roshike nodded his thanks. “If they want to be sure we don’t have some infectious disease, I would have thought they’d have tested us before letting us in.” Or maybe that explained why their contact with other people had been so limited up to this point.
But the man shook his head. “They did that at the gate, though I dare say you didn’t notice. This, this must be where they make sure we meet certain standards for physical fitness.” He looked in the direction of the inner door with a hint of a smile, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice when he made his next comment. “This could be where Futoh fails as a candidate.” Then he turned back. “I’m Carl Katachi by the way.”
Roshike let his eyes open wide as he responded to that. “You’ve got two names? I thought only citizens were allowed two. You are a candidate like the rest of us?”
“Not like the rest of you, no. But I’m not a citizen yet.” Seeing the look of confusion Roshike was showing him, he explained further. “My father and mother are citizens, but they aren’t of a high enough level for me to be one automatically. I have to start as a candidate, but I already have a second name.”
Noticing the faint frown on the man’s face, Roshike wondered whether Carl was meant to be using his second name yet. Or sharing it with others. He had given Roshike a lot to think about though. The fact that children of citizens weren’t necessarily citizens themselves was interesting. As was the broader implication of severe stratification among levels of citizenry. That all Batsu weren’t equal was nothing new, but it sounded as if there was a more rigid hierarchy than was generally known. At least on the outside.
More importantly, Carl had said he wasn’t like the rest of them, and that was clearly true—his parents must’ve told him something of what to expect as a candidate. That information could be useful, as well as everything else the man knew about the Batsu. Roshike needed to try and learn everything he could from Carl somehow, and without making him suspicious.
Leaning back in his chair to wait for his name to be called, he considered how he might go about doing that. One by one the others were led away. But the first to go, Futoh, hadn’t yet returned. Roshike refused to let that thought worry him when the man in the white coat finally came for him. He followed the fellow calmly down the hall and into an empty, cold, and sterile chamber.
The man gestured at a large metal plate set into the wall. “Remove your clothes and set them out of the way of the machine, then stand in front of it until you see a green light at the top. Then you can put your clothes back on and do what your screen says to do next.” Then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Roshike walked to a corner of the chamber and stood with his back to the door and took off his tunic and belt at the same time, shielding the one with the other as he did so. He piled them in the corner and his pants on top of them and his screen on top of everything and walked back over to stand there in front of the metal plate, feeling like a fool. And cold as well. After a couple minutes of shivering though, a green light appeared along the top edge of whatever the thing was.
He wasted no time scrambling back to the corner. And the first thing he saw was the message on his screen waiting for him. Don your clothes again, exit the room, then turn to the right and proceed to the third door on your left. He hurried to follow the first part of those instructions and had no desire to stay in that cold chamber any longer than he had to, but he found his feet dragging as he went down the hall. He hadn’t thought this job would be easy, but neither could he have imagined what it would really entail. Now he had no choice but to continue.
The dangers of discovery were very real though, and he couldn’t predict where they would appear—or what form they’d take. Roshike paused to take a deep breath before opening the door he’d been sent to. And at least he managed to avoid looking at his screen first.
Inside the small space cluttered with devices he couldn’t identify, a young woman in white was waiting for him, sitting on a stool and with a big needle in her hand. She waved him to a chair. “Sit and relax. I’m just going to take a sample of your blood. It won’t hurt a bit.”
Of course it would hurt, but he assumed this to be something all the candidates had to endure. He doubted the Batsu would poison them—if they had wanted them dead, there were easier ways of going about it. And while at any point Roshike could run or fight or try to escape, he had an important job to do. So any of those reactions should be last resorts in the most dire circumstances.
As soon as she’d finished taking a couple large vials of his blood, he checked his screen to see what it wanted him to do next. That took him out a back exit and along one of the cement walkways for half a kilometer to yet another building that didn’t declare what it was supposed to be. Though it was also one story, it seemed taller than the others.
Striding in through the main entrance, Roshike discovered it was one cavernous space sectioned off into separate areas, and all the candidates who had preceded him at the other place were here. A quick glance told him they were working their way around from one station to the next, participating in different physical trials. He wondered if the women were in a separate building and whether the tests would be the same.
At one station a gray-suited man stood with his screen in hand as he watched one of the candidates climb a rope hanging from the ceiling. At another, weights were being lifted. And at one someone was running in place on top of a surface that seemed to move with his feet. In each case someone in a gray suit observed and presumably noted how well each man performed. With a sigh, Roshike proceeded to the first area.
He found it strangely difficult to hold back, but he didn’t want the Batsu to know what he was capable of. At the same time he needed to perform well enough to remain a candidate. And all the while he had to appear as if he were making every effort to do his best.
While he was running on top of the rolling platform, he began wondering how long it would be before one of Tash’s agents found a way to safely contact him—they’d have to be careful, of course—and how much he might be able to discover on his own before then. And forgot to pay attention to what he was doing, until he noticed the man measuring his performance was staring at him. Then Roshike let his long day catch up to him, slowing him down and gradually grinding him to a halt in what should appear a natural way. Hopefully he hadn’t performed too well before that.
After he’d wearily made his way through the final station, he checked his screen and found a set of directions that looked likely to lead him to the cafeteria Noriko had pointed out on the map that morning. Apparently it was time for lunch.
Roshike perked up and made good time to the large, low-ceilinged building. Pushing through one door that swung in as an entrance as a couple blue-uniformed guards were pushing out the exit, he saw he was none too soon. The spacious main area was filled with tables already packed with people. Most of the other candidates were already there, clumps of tan standing out amid the sea of blue guards and gray administrators, the men together at one large table and the women at another. At least they were talking to each other in their separate groups.
Joining the end of the line, he continued to cast his gaze around and noted there was no one present in regular clothes, only the colored outfits denoting different jobs. Thankfully he couldn’t see any black-suited enforcers there though. Did they dine separately, then? He’d assumed that all this ‘level four’ and ‘level six’ stuff was how the Batsu maintained a distinction between greater and lesser citizens, but perhaps the way people were dressed was part of it too. It seemed more complicated than he’d initially imagined.
&nb
sp; He mulled that over as he grabbed a tray and a number of the various dishes he could choose from. He took a bowl of rice topped with a raw egg, then a second steaming bowl of noodle soup, a plate full of fresh vegetables and another of fish. They certainly were being well fed.
Arriving at the table where the male candidates had congregated, he could see the others were taking full advantage of that—in spite of the fact it was all going down as debt. Even gaunt Carl had a tray full of food he was tucking into with gusto.
Roshike claimed the seat next to him and across from Futoh. Then he grinned at the hefty man who was steadily working his way through a pork chop. “I see you’re still with us—after all the medical and physical tests.”
Carl glanced up from his food with pursed lips. “Apparently you have to be morbidly obese in order to fail the physical. And all that exercise is only for the purpose of determining what work we’d be best suited to.”
Futoh stopped chewing long enough to chuckle and comment. “No doubt I’m best suited to a nice, cushy desk job in administration.”
Carl glared at the man, and then they both went back to eating. Roshike followed their lead. They’d expended a lot of energy, after all, and needed to refuel for whatever came next. Which he didn’t want to think about, though maybe Carl knew. But would the man tell?
The couple of candidates who had been behind Roshike for the last set of trials soon staggered in to join them for the feast. Hoping this meant plenty of time, he ate leisurely and let himself relax as much as he could under the circumstances. Even the last candidate to arrive was able to finish his food.
They’d all been sitting there satisfied and ready when their screens suddenly instructed them to get up, clean up after themselves, and leave. The directions to their next destination took them back to the large lecture hall where they’d started the morning. And this time Noriko was there waiting.
The candidates took their seats swiftly, then the woman started explaining what they had to do next—the huge screen behind her would flash questions and everyone was supposed to choose the right answers on their own screens as swiftly as they could. Then she settled into a chair in the front, turning it around to face them and warning them not to cheat without explaining how they could. She did say that cheaters would be fined.
Then the questions began to appear, and at first there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the order or speed in which they came. A memory test would be followed by a math problem. Then a question of language usage would be succeeded by a logical conundrum or an ethical dilemma. The speed might be related to the estimated time it should take them to choose an answer. But Roshike soon wondered if the random order was meant to mask the presence of certain questions that seemed to test character or personality. Posing hypothetical problems and asking how they would act in a theoretical situation. If people didn’t realize the purpose of those questions mixed in with the others as they were, they would be more likely to answer honestly, without thinking. It appeared the Batsu were interested in learning a lot about the candidates.
Roshike tried to answer those particular questions how he thought they’d like a potential citizen to respond. But it did get tiring, because they clearly intended to be thorough. After two hours of that kind of testing, they were allowed a fourteen minute break to answer the call of nature and drink water. Then their screens summoned them back for more of the same.
By the time they finished for good and were directed to the cafeteria again for dinner, Roshike was exhausted. Perhaps because they all started supper simultaneously, they weren’t given as long as they’d had to eat lunch, but then they were so hungry and tired that they wolfed down their meals in complete silence. Coming out of the cafeteria, the sun was already sinking and little light remained as they were sent back to their separate dorms. It seemed their long first day as candidates was at an end.
But not for Roshike, who had another agenda to pursue, one he’d had little opportunity to even consider during the day, his movements having been so closely controlled and observed. Now that he had a chance to do something on his own, he meant to do what he could to scout the area around the administration building. Which would mean doing something the screen hadn’t told him to.
First, though, he followed the instructions to go to his room like everyone else, and made sure they all saw him. Inside, he checked the top of the wardrobe and was relieved to find his old clothes hadn’t been removed. Now he just needed to wait a while, until all his fellow candidates had retreated to their rooms and wouldn’t see him sneaking around. He ignored the instruction to go to bed.
So far his entire routine had been programmed by the Gaku-net, and he’d gone along with it, every single step of the way. As had everybody else, so he had no idea what would happen when he didn’t. It was rather ominous not knowing what failure to follow those directions might mean, what kind of punishment any action might merit, but as long as they didn’t toss him out or find out why he was there, it should be alright. And if he was going to do his job, he’d have to take risks.
The problem was the door—since he had to use his thumbprint to get out, he was quite sure the fact would be logged somewhere, and he had little doubt that would be noted. So he needed an excuse.
After their very long and demanding day, there shouldn’t be any surprise if Roshike decided to take another shower before going to bed—regardless of what his screen had said. It should sound reasonable, which was what mattered most. He could take his old clothes with him, shower quickly, then wait in the locker room for a while to see if anyone came to check on him. If no one did, then he should have a clear field for sneaking out of the building. And if someone later asked him why he hadn’t returned to his room, he could simply say he’d lain down on one of the benches in the locker room and fallen asleep. Since he didn’t want to create a record of returning to his room in the middle of the night, it would be a good place to snooze after he did come back. He’d need some rest by then.
After sufficient time had passed to allow all the others to be safely in their rooms—and hopefully in bed for the night like they were supposed to be—he placed his thumb against the reader and turned the door handle. The lock remained engaged, however, and the door wouldn’t open.
Roshike went back over to his cot and looked at the screen they’d given him and saw a new message. You will be locked in your room at night to enforce a nighttime curfew for candidates. He was sure he could hack the lock, but he didn’t. That might give the game away.
Chapter 8
Chosen Course
The next day
ROSHIKE HAD WOKEN early and spent some time in quiet meditation before his screen sounded an alarm—to awaken him, he supposed. There had been a message telling him to shower then proceed to breakfast. He’d wondered if they would get one, or whether he alone might miss out on the meal as punishment for having tried to leave his room last night. It wasn’t as if they’d been told about any curfew, but at least he had an excuse prepared. In case someone asked.
Grabbing one of the clean tan outfits hanging in his wardrobe, he had turned toward the door when he’d noticed that the little green light on the security reader was on, meaning the lock had been disengaged already by the Gaku-net. And that made him wonder. So far, he’d needed to use his thumbprint to lock and unlock his door, so it didn’t seem to be a question of proximity. Rather, the system must’ve automatically unlocked the door because the curfew had ended—the same way it had locked him in last night. While he didn’t care for it doing that, he also thought he could use it.
After a swift shower and an even swifter breakfast—it had been so small as to make it obvious the Batsu hadn’t wanted them lingering over the morning meal—Roshike had rushed off to his first destination of the day. And when none of the others had followed him from one walkway to another, at first he’d imagined he’d been too quick off the mark for them. But when he’d arrived at the place his screen called an individual study center, the
re was still no sign of any of his fellow candidates heading his way. Then his second thought had been that ‘study’ could be a euphemism for punishment.
One of the more ominous aspects of how they’d been treated so far was the way it was generally left unstated what might or might not be an infraction. Not only that, but they’d never been told what penalty they might incur if they failed to follow instructions. But everyone still understood they needed to do what they were told. The ‘or else’ was every bit as effective for only being implied. Or maybe more so. It certainly kept them all on their toes.
He’d hoped arriving early wherever they’d sent him would give him a chance to snoop around a bit, but that opportunity hadn’t materialized. Instead, he’d been immediately instructed to enter and proceed past several small rooms—some of which had been occupied and some empty—until he’d been directed into one of the empty ones. There he’d found a chair and a desk, and on top of that desk what he now thought of as a medium-sized screen. And his first reaction had been relief.
It certainly hadn’t looked like it was going to be any kind of punishment, though he’d felt differently by the time he’d finished. After he’d sat down obligingly at the desk, the screen had started by giving him some science problems to solve, and he’d presumed it was more testing, just on an individual basis. Though that wouldn’t have explained why he’d apparently been the only candidate directed to that building.
And it had been a kind of testing. Whenever he had gotten one of the questions wrong, that screen had started a step-by-step lesson plan to show him how to get the right answer. It had been some sort of individually tailored study session, only with the computer as his instructor and math and science as the subjects. That might mean the screen was connected directly to the Gaku-net servers, and the others there at the study center.
Whispers of the Dead (Miraibanashi, #1) Page 9
