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“You don’t believe I’d allow you to return home?” He leans forward and rests his hands next to the gun.
“No.” I cannot take my eyes away from his fingers as they brush the butt. “I don’t believe you.”
“I have no reason to lie,” he says, wrapping his hand around the wooden handle. “Of course, I don’t expect you to take my word on that.”
Gun in hand, he rises and crosses the room to a small bench I failed to notice before. On the bench is a tray. Atop that tray is a glass filled with clear liquid. Dr. Barnes takes the glass with his free hand, walks over to the table, and places the glass in front of me. “That’s why I provided us with a drink you might remember from the last time we were in this room.”
As Dr. Barnes walks back to the other side of the table, I pick up the glass and study its contents. There is nothing to distinguish it from water. Not the look or the smell. It appears innocuous. But it could be the same liquid as the one I was required to consume during my interview, and I know looks are deceiving. Even after taking a serum that was designed to counteract the effects of the interview drug, I still felt a sense of euphoria once I drank it and the desire to tell those who questioned me everything they wanted to know. Thankfully, the serum allowed me to think before I answered and to control my responses. I do not have the benefit of that serum now.
“I’m not going to drink this.” I set the glass down on the table.
“And I’m not going to insist that you do. The drink is for me,” he says. “I’m just offering you the opportunity in case you doubt my claim about what’s in the glass.”
I’m confused. Is what he has to tell me so important that he would willingly consume the truth drug he once forced me to take? The one that, with Symon’s help, I beat. “How do I know you haven’t taken the serum that negates it?” I ask.
“You don’t.” Dr. Barnes leans back in his chair and nods. “You are always one to trust your instincts. What do you think?”
I don’t know what to think. This is another test—perhaps the last one I will ever face—and I’m not sure of the correct answer. None of what has happened tonight makes sense. Not the unlocked door, Dr. Barnes’s booby-trapped house, or his claim that he wants me to kill him. For these things to be true, Dr. Barnes must have always known what I’ve been doing. Nothing I’ve done has been in secret. But there have been no cameras. I disabled the tracking device in my bracelet. He couldn’t have planted something in my clothes because I have not always worn the same . . .
My eyes fall on the University bag that sits on the far edge of the table. I’ve rarely been without it since it was given to me after The Testing. The bag is constructed with strong material to prevent it from ripping. The bottom, especially, is thick to ensure the bag can hold all the books we have to carry around campus. At least that’s what I assumed. A bag. Like every other bag. Without memory of The Testing, I had no reason to question it when it was given to me. And once I did remember, I never gave it a second thought.
I put the glass back on the table and lean back in my seat. “Was The Testing bag designed to monitor our movements, too?”
“I’m impressed, my dear. You’re correct about this bag containing a device that allows me to better understand your daily activities, but the satchel you carried during The Testing did not. My staff believed the recorders in the bracelets were sufficient to obtain the information we needed. You proved them wrong then as you have here at the University. Just as I hoped you would.”
“You hoped??
?
Dr. Barnes reaches across the table, picks up the glass, and toasts me with it. He swallows some of the liquid and frowns as he sets the half-empty glass back on the table. “I forgot how unpleasant that taste is. It was something we always meant to fix but never got around to. Not a surprise, I suppose, since no one who drinks it remembers the bitter flavor once The Testing is over. Ah, well, perhaps now you will allow me to explain in my own way.”
He places his hands on the table and begins to speak. “When the United Commonwealth was formed, it was decided that a different selection method would be necessary to ensure our country did not fall victim to the mistakes of the leaders in our past. For a while that selection was easy, since the boundaries of our country did not extend beyond the city. It was a simple matter for officials to observe those who naturally assumed leadership roles in the work they’d been assigned. However, after the first colonies were established and our population grew, there were problems. Leaders struggled to be decisive when faced with difficult decisions like power distribution. Fights broke out in parts of the city where power allocation was at its lowest. To stave off frustration and violence, two new colonies were established and tens of thousands of people sent out of the city to revitalize areas far to the east. Due to rushed decisions, those areas were poorly scouted. Only a handful of those who left the city survived.”
We studied the failed colonies in school. Those who survived talked of poisonous windstorms, vicious mutated animal attacks, and contamination in the ground that caused anything that was planted to die within days. My father always wondered how the scientists who reviewed those areas missed such deadly contamination, and believed mistakes were made. He was right. Thousands of people died because of those errors.
“Those who returned shared their story. They questioned the current leadership. The civil war that loomed would have torn apart the city and the country. To prevent that, a compromise was reached between the current leaders and those who opposed them, ensuring that new leadership would not commit the same mistakes. The University, under my grandfather’s guidance, was charged with selecting students with the qualities necessary to lead and with preparing them for the positions they would hold. A year after that change was made, The Testing was established.”
Gun in hand, Dr. Barnes stands and walks the length of the room. “It’s hard to determine what makes a good leader and to test for those qualities. For the next ten years, The Testing was comprised of written and hands-on challenges meant to determine whether a candidate had the knowledge required to help lead the revitalization mission. Those who attended the University were the brightest and most promising minds our country had to offer. And yet, many of them faltered when it was their turn to lead. After all, no matter how intelligent and skilled a person is, it is impossible to know how a person will behave in a certain situation until they are faced with it. So my grandfather created two versions of The Testing as an experiment. One for colony students and the other for those from Tosu City.”
When Dr. Barnes turns away from me, I realize this could be my chance. Slowly, I slide to the edge of the chair. There is a knife in the side pocket of my bag. If I can reach it . . .
“The colony candidates’ Testing became harder. More stressful in order to see which students could succeed in spite of the pressure and which would break under the strain. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the largest advancements in genetic manipulation, medicine, and in cleansing our water have been made by those who came from the colonies and passed through The Testing. Successful candidates like your father and President Wendig. Over the years, The Testing has proven to be an effective tool, which is why President Collindar is now insisting that all applicants for the University, including the ones from Tosu City, be required to take part in it.”
Icy shock streaks up my spine. “That’s not true. President Collindar wants to end The Testing.”
I know Dr. Barnes is lying. Until recently, the president didn’t understand what candidates were forced to go through. Her desire to learn more about The Testing was one of the reasons she had me assigned to be her intern.
“No, my dear.” He sees my proximity to the bag and extends the gun in front of him. His eyes hold mine, waiting for me to make a choice.
Slowly, I sit back. With a smile, he lowers the gun and continues. “While you would like to believe differently, ending The Testing is the last thing President Collindar wants. After a hundred years, other countries in the world are reaching out. Some in friendship. Others . . . well, let’s just say that our leaders will need to stay strong in order for our country to survive what comes next. Despite my growing concerns about the elimination of so many bright minds through The Testing, President Collindar believes that those losses are minor compared to the number of casualties we’ll incur if our leadership should falter.”
My mind races back to my conversations with President Collindar about The Testing. In each, she talked of ending Dr. Barnes’s control of the process. Never once did she actually say she intended to eliminate The Testing itself. But that proves nothing. I look at the half-empty glass sitting in front of Dr. Barnes. Is he telling the truth now? There’s no way to know.
I tamp down the uncertainty rising inside me and ask, “What about the Redirected students? Does President Collindar know that you and your scientists are experimenting on them?”
“Ah, you have been busy learning all of our secrets.” But his frown and the flicker of confusion that crosses his face make me wonder if he truly knows everything that I have done. “Yes, the president receives monthly reports from Professor Cartwright and Dr. Bates that outline the success of their resourcing program. She’s fully aware of their progress in the study of human mutations caused by the wars, although she believes Professor Cartwright is being too cautious in his use of the subjects. Results are important. Especially if the reports we are getting from beyond our country’s borders are accurate.”
I want to ask about the reports he has hinted at, but as important as those are, it’s the faces of those who did not pass the first rounds of The Testing that haunt me and make me ask, “Where are they? Where are the experiments being conducted?”
