by M. R. Holman
he took over the course of the week quelled his ominous thoughts of failure, but only temporarily.
The day before the test, Dr. Marblight did not drink at all. In fact, he did hardly anything. He had secluded himself in his top-floor room in the research facility he was staying in, and covered his windows with the sheets off of his bed so that he could not be distracted by the distant rust red landscape outside of the terraform dome. He sat on the floor and meditated with earplugs in his ears so that the perpetual gunplay many floors below would not distract him. He rose only for meals and spoke to no one. Before he went to bed he did one-hundred jumping jacks, fifty sit ups, and thirty five pushups. As he laid down to sleep that night, having finally taken the earplugs out and listening to the distant pops of gunfire, he tried to remember the last time he had gone to bed without a drink. He laid awake most of the night.
Dr. Marblight stood in line with the others that were waiting to take his test in a nearly dream-like state. It was being administered in the surrounding buildings as well, and there was an unnatural silence filling the dome. He looked around at the confident and the fearful and tried to ascertain which he was. No one in the line at his test location recognized him. To them, he was just another colonist facing the test.
The test did not take long and the results were presented directly after it was finished. Participants either exited the building jubilantly or in anger or sadness. Anger and sadness occupied the expressions of the vast majority who exited the building. Finally, it came to be Dr. Marblight's turn to take his own test.
He was not entirely sure what to expect as he walked into the plain white room. Each test was different, and its individual questions and tasks were procedurally generated by a computer program on the spot. A long desk at which four test administrators sat was the only object in the otherwise bare room. There were three men and one woman. They were all young, attractive, and generally impressive. If they had not already passed his test, he was sure that they would.
"Good morning, Dr. Marblight," one of the administrators said as he entered the room and stood before them.
"Good morning," he said, standing as straight as possible and making a conscious effort not to touch his beard.
Two of the administrators approached him while the other two sat at the long desk and monitored a computer screen. One of them placed sensors on his temple. The test administrator plucked one of his hairs from his head without asking and returned to the desk. Dr. Marblight was shocked and outraged, but he tried to hide it. Then he began to wonder if he was supposed to hide his anger... What could that be testing? His temper? His emotional stability? Were they going to test his hair for drugs?
The other administrator remained near him. It was the woman. She lingered close to his body, the scent of her perfumed hair wafting from the top of her head into his nostrils as she patiently attempted to open a plastic packaged sensor. When she opened it, she put it in the palm of her hand and slid it under his shirt, placing it over his rapidly beating heart. He thought he saw her smirk as she withdrew her hand and walked back to the desk. Surely that was deliberate and part of the test... Sexual virility? He thought for sure he passed that, if it was indeed that portion of the test. His palms had begun to sweat and he focused on lowering his heart rate and taking rhythmic measured breaths.
"Alright Dr. Marblight, approach the whiteboard behind you and complete the equations written on it. You have two minutes."
Dr. Marblight was confused. He turned around and saw a whiteboard that had certainly not been there moments before. Had he just not noticed it? What was happening? In a panic, he looked for a marker with which he could finish the equations on the board. He could not find one anywhere.
As he looked frantically for a marker he said, "Excuse me, I think you forgot to provide me with a marker." Dr. Marblight turned around just in time to see one of the test administrators raising a throwing knife above his head. The administrator's gaze was locked directly on his heart. Dr. Marblight dove to the ground and heard the knife stick into the whiteboard behind him.
The same administrator that had thrown the knife tossed a marker to the floor in front of Dr. Marblight's violently shaking body. "Finish the equations on the whiteboard," he said emotionlessly. "You have one minute and thirty-five seconds remaining."
He did not understand what was happening. He had certainly not made any provisions for violence during the test. Were they actually trying to hurt him? He picked up the marker and began to work, glancing over his shoulder regularly. The administrator that had thrown the knife kept his hands hidden under the desk.
"Done," Dr. Marblight said as he finished the equations and turned around to face the administrators.
"Well done. Do thirty pushups."
Dr. Marblight dropped to the floor and began to do pushups. He focused on his breathing, and not the tightness in his shoulders. He had tendonitis. While staring determinedly down at his hands, he heard footsteps. He saw a pair of polished black shoes standing on either side of his hands.
"You're fucking pathetic," one of the administrators said above him.
Dr. Marblight chose not to respond. He acted like he had not even heard what they had said. His pushups were slowing in rapidity and he had to strain to complete each one. He saw one of the administrator's shoes lift from the ground and hover above his fingers.
"I could crush them if I wanted to," the administrator said sinisterly. "You’d have to get used to dictating your theories instead of writing them..."
"Thirty," Dr. Marblight grunted through gritted teeth, withdrawing his hands swiftly and shifting his weight to his knees. The administrator turned away without comment and returned to the desk. Dr. Marblight rose to his feet and tried to take deep breaths without panting. He could feel the sensor on his chest move with each beat of his heart.
"You're almost done, Dr. Marblight," said the woman administrator with a soothing, supportive smile. Dr. Marblight felt his muscles relax a bit.
"We just need you to tell us your secret," she said. That relaxation vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His muscles tensed and his mind strained to ascertain what she might be referring to...
"What?" he asked uncertainly between breaths.
"Well, Dr. Marblight, our computer shows that you have a secret. The sensors have detected that you are hiding something in your mind. We need to know what it is."
He thought of ideas he had stolen or not cited in his research and empty whiskey bottles hidden under his bed, but ultimately he landed on the most pressing matter he had hidden from everyone.
"I'm scared that I won't pass this test," he said, looking over the heads of the test administrators.
"Alright, that concludes the test. It'll be a moment for the data to be compiled so that we may interpret it."
Dr. Marblight was traumatized by the test, the test that he himself had laid the foundation for. Was this right? He began to question his own ideals that he had held over his twenty years of research…
"If you'll turn around, we'll project your results on the wall, Dr. Marblight."
He turned around to face the blank white wall beside the whiteboard and the room went dark.
Physical Endurance: Pass - 95th Percentile in Age Range
That was a relief... He had been training for quite some time to get his body in peak physical condition.
Sexual Virility: Pass - Acceptable Reproductive Qualities and Technique
Dr. Marblight afforded himself a brief smirk at this information.
Intelligence: Pass - 99th Percentile in Overall Population
Wow! He was stunned at this information. And to think, that was where he had doubted himself...
Emotional Health: Failure - Incapable of Proper Communication Techniques when Confronted, Threatened, or Afraid.
He felt his heart sink. The knife... The threats as he had done push-ups... Why had he just taken them? Why had he not responded at all?
Final Notes: Displays Known
Traits Leading to Dishonesty. Physical Ailment: Tendonitis. Mental Ailments: Alcohol Dependent. Narcissistic. Possibly Suicidal.
"Wait just a moment," Dr. Marblight said, turning around to face the darkened countenances of the test administrators. "I am not alcohol dependent, nor am I dishonest! And suicidal? That is utter nonsense!" he said with outrage. There was clearly some mistake…
"Your own test indicates otherwise, Dr. Marblight," one of the administrators sighed. The lights rose in the room. "It is our final decision, in conjunction with the finite data presented by the computer program and the read-outs from the sensors, that you are unfit to join the Martian society in the New Colony."
Dr. Marblight's ears were ringing. He felt faint and as though his mind was only tenuously associated with his body. He was aware that the group of test administrators were still talking to him, but he could no longer properly hear them. He only nodded when they nodded and accepted a piece of paper they handed him as they opened the door and ushered him out. He jammed the paper into his pocket without folding or looking at it. His eyes met the next test-taker. He dimly registered the shock in their expression as they examined his own.
Faces blurred as he walked past the lines of people waiting to take the test that would determine if they would be staying and joining a revolution in human existence, or if they would be deported to Earth. In a trance-like state,
