Satan to snare the souls of men.
“My name,” she said, “is Agnes O’Toole.”
“He doesn’t care,” said Bridegan.
Zeck extended his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Agnes
O’Toole.” Didn’t Bridegan understand the obligation of kindness
and courtesy that all men owed to all women, since women’s
destiny was to go down into the valley of the shadow of death in
order to bring more souls into the world to become purified so
they could serve God? What tragic ignorance.
“I’ll wait out here,” said Bridegan. “If that’s all right with
Zeck, here.”
He seemed to be waiting for an answer.
“I don’t care what you do,” said Zeck, not bothering to look
at him. He was a man of violence, as he had already proven, and
so he was hopelessly impure. He had no authority in the eyes of
God, and yet he had seized Zeck by the shoulders as if he had a
right. Only Father had a duty to purify Zeck’s flesh; no other had
a right to touch him.
“His father beats him,” said Bridegan. And then he left.
Agnes looked at him with raised eyebrows. But Zeck saw no
need to explain. They had known about the chastisement of the
impure flesh before they came—how else would Bridegan have
known to take off his shirt and show the marks? Bridegan and
Agnes obviously wanted to use these scars somehow. As if they
thought Zeck wanted to be comforted and protected.
From Father? From the instrument chosen by God to raise
Zeck to manhood? As well might a man raise his puny hand to
prevent God from working his will in the world.
Agnes began the test. Whenever the questions dealt with
something Zeck knew about, he answered forthrightly, as his
father had commanded him. But half the questions were about
things completely outside Zeck’s experience. Maybe they were
about things on the vids, which Zeck had never watched in his
life; maybe they were things from the nets, which Zeck only
knew about because they were damnable webs made of
lightning, laid before the feet of foolish souls to snare them and
drag them down to hell.
Agnes manipulated the blocks and then had him answer
questions about them. Zeck saw at once what the purpose of the
[ADVANCE READER COPY]
287
Edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt
text was. So he reached over and took the blocks from her. Then
he manipulated them to show each and every example drawn on
two dimensions on the paper. Except one. “You can’t make this
one with these blocks,” he said.
She put the blocks away.
The next test was entitled “Worldview Diagnostics:
Fundamentalist Christian Edition.” Since she covered this title
almost instantly, it was obvious Zeck wasn’t supposed to know
what he was being tested on.
She began with questions about the creation and Adam and
Eve.
Zeck interrupted her, quoting Father. “The book of Genesis
represents the best job that Moses could do, explaining evolution
to people who didn’t even know the Earth was round.”
“You believe in evolution? Then what about Adam as the
first man?”
“The name ‘Adam’ means ‘many,’” said Zeck. “There were
many males in that troop of primates, when God chose one of
them and touched him with his Spirit and put the soul of a man
inside. It was Adam who first had language and named the other
primates, the ones that looked like him but were not human
because God had not given them human souls. Thus it says, ‘And
Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to
every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found an
help meet for him.’ What Moses originally wrote was much
simpler: ‘Adam named all the beasts that were not in the image
of God. None of them could speak to him, so he was utterly
alone.’”
“You know what God originally wrote?” asked Agnes.
“You think we’re fundamentalists,” said Zeck. “But we’re
not. We’re Puritans. We know that God can only teach us what
we’re prepared to understand. The Bible was written by men and
women of earlier times, and it holds only as much as they were
capable of understanding. We have a greater knowledge of
science, and so God can clarify and tell us more. He would be an
unloving Father if he insisted on telling us only as much as
humans could understand back in the infancy of our species.”
She leaned back in her chair. “So then why does your father
call electricity ‘lightning’?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?” asked Zeck, trying to hide his
contempt.
288
[ADVANCE READER COPY]
Decision Points
“Well, yes, of course, but—”
“So Father calls it ‘lightning’ to emphasize how dangerous it
is, and how ephemeral,” said Zeck. “Your word ‘electricity’ is a
lie, convincing you that because it runs through wires and shifts
the on-off state of semi-conductors, the lightning has been tamed
and no longer poses a danger. But God says that it is in your
machines that lightning is at its most dangerous, for lightning that
strikes you out of the sky can only harm your body, while the
lightning that has tamed you and trained you through the
machines can steal your soul.”
“So God speaks to your father,” said Agnes.
“As he speaks to all men and women who purify themselves
enough to hear his voice.”
“Has God ever spoken to you?”
Zeck shook his head. “I’m not yet pure.”
“And that’s why your father whips you.”
“My father is God’s instrument in the purification of his
children.”
“And you trust your father always to do God’s will?”
“My father is the purest man on Earth right now.”
“Yet you have never trusted him enough to let him know you
have a word-for-word memory.”
Her words struck him like a blow. She was absolutely right.
Zeck had heeded Mother and never let Father see his unnatural
ability. And why? Not because Zeck was afraid. Because Mother
was afraid. He had taken her faithlessness inside himself as if it
were his own, and so Father could not purify him. Could never
purify him, because he had been deceiving Father for all these
years.
He rose to his feet.
“Where are you going?” asked Agnes.
“To Father.”
“To tell him about your phenomenal memory?” she asked
pleasantly.
Zeck had no reason to tell her anything, and so he didn’t.
Bridegan was waiting in the other room, blocking the door.
“No sir,” he said. “You’re going nowhere.”
Zeck went back into the kitchen and sat back down at the
table. “You’re taking me into space, aren’t you,” he said.
“Yes, Zeck,” she said. “You are one of the best we’ve ever
tested.”
[ADVANCE READER COPY]
289
Edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt
“I’ll go with you. But I’ll never fight for you,” he said.
“Taking me is a waste of time.”
“Never is a long time,” she said.
“You think that if you take me far enough from Earth, I’ll
forget about God.”
“Not forget,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll transform your
understanding.”
“Don’t you understand how dangerous I am?” said Zeck.
“We’re actually counting on that,” she said.
“Not dangerous as a soldier,” he said. “If I go with you, it
will be as a teacher. I’ll help the other children in your Battle
School see that God does not want them to kill their enemies.”
“Oh, we’re not worried about you converting the other kids,”
said Agnes.
“You should be,” said Zeck. “The word of God has power
unto salvation, and no power on earth or in hell can stand against
it.”
She shook her head. “I might worry,” she said. “If you were
pure. But you’re not. So what power will you have to convert
anybody?” She piled up the test booklets and stuffed them in the
briefcase with the blocks and the recorder. “I have it on tape,”
she said loudly, for Bridegan to hear. “He said, ‘I’ll go with
you.’”
Bridegan came into the kitchen. “Welcome to Battle School,
soldier.”
Zeck did not answer. He was still reeling from what she had
said. How can I convert anyone, when I’m still impure myself?
“I have to talk to Father,” said Zeck.
“Not a chance,” said Agnes. “It’s the impure Zechariah
Morgan that we want. Not the pure one who confessed
everything to his father. Besides, we don’t have time to wait for
another set of lash wounds to heal.”
Bridegan laughed harshly. “If that bastard raises his hand
against this boy one more time, I’ll blast it off.”
Zeck whirled on him, filled with rage. “Then what would that
make you? ”
Bridegan only kept on laughing. “It would make me what
I’ve always been—a bloody-minded soldier. My job is defending
the helpless against the cruel. That’s what we’re doing, fighting
the formics—and it’s what I’d be doing if I took off your Father’s
hands up to the elbows.”
290
[ADVANCE READER COPY]
Decision Points
In reply, Zeck recited from the book of Daniel. “A stone was
cut out without hands, which smote the image upon his feet that
were of iron and clay, and brake them in pieces.”
“Without hands. A neat trick,” said Bridegan.
“And the stone that smote the image became a great
mountain, and filled the whole earth,” said Zeck.
“He’s got the whole King James version by heart,” said
Agnes.
“And in the days of these kings,” recited Zeck, “shall the God
of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and
the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in
pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand for
ever.”
“They’re going to love him up in Battle School,” said
Bridegan.
So Zeck spent that Christmas in space, heading up to the
station that housed Battle School. He did nothing to cause
disturbance, obeyed every order he was given. When his launch
group first went into the Battle Room, Zeck learned to fly just
like all the others. He even pointed his weapon at targets that
were assigned.
It took quite a while before anyone noticed that Zeck never
actually hit anybody with his weapon. In every battle, he was
zero for zero. Statistically, he was the worst soldier in the history
of the school. In vain did the teachers point out that it was just a
game.
“Neither shall they learn war anymore,” quoted Zeck in
return. “I will not offend God by learning war.” They could take
him into space, they could make him wear the uniform, they
could force him into the Battle Room, but they couldn’t make
him shoot.
It took many months, and they still wouldn’t send him home,
but at least they left him alone. He belonged to an army, he
practiced with them, but on every battle report, he was listed with
zero effectiveness. There was no soldier in the school prouder of
his record.
*
Dink Meeker watched as Ender Wiggin came through the
door into Rat Army’s barracks. As usual, Rosen was near the
[ADVANCE READER COPY]
291
Edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt
entrance, and he immediately launched into his “I Rose de Nose,
Jewboy extraordinaire” routine. It was how Rosen wrapped
himself in the military reputation of Israel, even though Rosen
wasn’t Israeli and he also wasn’t a particularly good commander.
Not a bad one either. Rat Army was in second place in the
standings. But how much of that was Rosen, and how much was
the fact that Rosen relied so heavily on Dink’s toon—which Dink
had trained?
Dink was the better commander, and he knew it—he had
been offered Rat Army and Rosen only got it when Dink turned
down the promotion. Nobody knew that, of course, but Dink and
Colonel Graff and whatever other teachers might have known.
There was no reason to tell it—it would only weaken Rosen and
also make Dink look like a braggart or a fool, depending on
whether people believed his claim. So he made no claim.
This was Rosen’s show. Let him write the script.
“That’s the great Ender Wiggin?” asked Flip. His name was
short for Filippus, and, like Dink, he was Dutch. He was also
very young and had yet to do anything impressive. It had to gall
a young kid like Flip that Ender Wiggin had been placed into the
Battle Room early and then rose to the very top of the standings
almost instantly.
“I told you,” said Dink, “he’s number one because his
commander wouldn’t let him shoot his weapon. So when he
finally did it—disobeying his commander, I might add—he got
this incredible kill ratio. It’s a fluke of how they keep the stats.”
“Kuso,” said Flip. “If Ender’s such a big nothing, why did
you go out of your way to get him in your toon?”
So somebody had overheard Dink ask Rosen to assign Ender
to his toon, and word had spread. “Because I needed somebody
smaller than you,” said Dink.
“And you’ve been watching him. I’ve seen you. Watching
him.”
It was easy to forget sometimes that every kid in this place
was brilliant. Observant. Clear memory and sharp analytical
skills. Even the ones who were still too timid to have done much
of anything. Not a good place for doing anything surreptitious.
“É,” said Dink. “I think he’s got something.”
“What’s he got that I don’t got?”
“Command of English grammar,” said Dink.
“Everybody talks like that,” said Flip.
292
/> [ADVANCE READER COPY]
Decision Points
“Everybody’s a sheep,” said Dink. “I’m getting out of here.”
Moments later, Dink pushed past Rosen and Ender and left the
room.
He didn’t want to talk to Ender right away. Because this
genius kid probably remembered the first time they met. In a
bathroom, right after Ender was put in Salamander Army’s
uniform, his first day in the game. Dink had seen how small he
was and said something like, “He’s so small he could walk
between my legs without touching my balls.” It didn’t mean
anything, and one of his friends had immediately said, “Cause
you got none, Dink, that’s why,” so it’s not like Dink had scored
any points.
But it was a stupid thing to say, which was fine, you could be
stupid around new kids. Except it had been Ender Wiggin, and
Dink now knew that this kid was something else, someone
important, and he deserved better. Dink wanted to be the guy
who knew right away what Ender Wiggin was. Instead, he’d
been the idiot who made a stupid joke about how short Ender
was.
Short? Ender was small because he was young. It was a mark
of brilliance, to be brought to Battle School a year younger than
other kids. And then he was advanced to Salamander Army while
all the rest of his launch group were still in basic. So he was really
under age. And therefore small. So what kind of idiot would
mock the kid for being smarter than anybody else?
Oh, suck it up, oomay, he told himself. What does it matter
what Wiggin thinks of you? Your job is to train him. To make up
for the weeks he wasted in Bonzo Madrid’s stupid Salamander
Army and help this kid become what he’s supposed to become.
Not that Wiggin had really wasted the time. The kid had been
running practice sessions for launchies and other rejects during
free time, and Dink had come and watched. Wiggin was doing
new things. Moves that Dink had never seen before. They had
possibilities. So Dink was going to use those techniques in his
toon. Give Wiggin a chance to see his ideas played out in combat
in the Battle Room.
I’m not Bonzo. I’m not Rosen. Having a soldier under me
who’s better than I am, smarter, more inventive, doesn’t threaten
me. I learn from everybody. I help everybody. It’s about the only
way I can be rebellious in this place—they chose us for our
Decision Point (ARC) Page 40
