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The other students sitting at the table laugh, but the amusement isn’t malicious. They remind me of my brothers, teasing me and my friends whenever they got the chance. Which always seemed to coincide with my mother being out of the room. Aside from the kitchen staff, I don’t see anyone who isn’t a student in the dining hall. While most things here in Tosu City are different from what I grew up with, it’s nice to know that some are the same.
Ian nudges me and hands me a plate filled with some kind of cooked greens. “You’ll also be meeting with Dr. Holt in the order you arrived in the dining hall.” The tone Ian uses is light, but the way he holds my gaze tells me this is an important advantage. One I should not discount.
Aside from Jenny and Ian, four other students are seated at our table—three male, one female. Despite my success with the first Induction test, none of them gives me more than a fleeting glance. I’m starting to ask Ian for an introduction when the rest of the first years arrive.
Some look angry. Others appear nervous as they walk to the seats their guides have reserved for them. Will catches my eye and gives me a wide grin before taking his seat. Of all of the students, he looks the least flustered by the day’s developments. His hair is perfectly slicked back. His shirt is tucked in. Not a hint of strain shows around his bright green eyes. Perhaps it is his ability to mask his true feelings that prompted University administrators to direct Will into Government Studies.
It’s a skill the two first years at my table could learn from. The puffy redness around Kaleigh’s eyes speaks volumes about the distress she experienced during the blackout. Raffe is better at keeping his emotions off his face, but his clenched fists tell their own story. A scan of the room tells me that all unsuccessful Tosu City first years are still working to regain their composure. Though the inequality between the different methods used to choose Tosu City and colony students for the University still grates, I’m forced to admit that those
of us from the colonies have an advantage over the others. Our Testing memories might have been erased, but we are still the same people who used our skills, intelligence, and wits to survive.
Conversation gets louder. Older students lament cramming for examinations or difficult assignments. Others quip that they’re thankful they don’t have to do the dishes as they smear the last vestiges of their meals around on their plates. From the mess I see at my table, I’m thankful too. The first years at my table don’t talk. We eat. We watch. We listen.
“Enzo Laznar.”
Conversation ceases, and we all turn toward a young, purple-clad University official who stands in the doorway. Enzo rises. Here and there, I see Tosu City first years whispering to one another. Enzo is stopped by the massive-looking boy next to him, who says something I can’t make out. Whatever he says has Enzo nodding before he heads out the door with the official. A moment later, the dining hall once again buzzes with laughter.
“Was Enzo the first to come downstairs?” I ask Ian. Because of his size and intimidating demeanor, I had assumed Griffin was the first.
“Enzo arrived two minutes ahead of Griffin. You came in five minutes after that. You’ll be called to meet with Professor Holt after Griffin has talked to her.”
Turning toward Raffe and Kaleigh, Ian adds, “The students who didn’t make the time deadline will be called at the end in alphabetical order. Professor Holt will ask all three of you a few questions. Then she’ll hand you your class schedule. No big deal.”
I hope not, because fifteen minutes later, my name is called. I follow the purple-clad official to one of the small libraries. Two gray armchairs face each other. Professor Holt is seated in one. She gestures for me to sit opposite. When the man in purple leaves, she says, “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Malencia. Although, I’ve heard people call you Cia. Which do you prefer?”
“My friends call me Cia.”
Professor Holt smiles. “Well, first let me congratulate you on your performance in the final Early Studies examination. Your scores were quite impressive. I hope you do as well in your regular classes when they begin next week.” She takes a sheet of gray recycled paper off the table next to her. “Because of your high examination marks, your class list is more challenging than the others. Please let me, your guide, or one of the other faculty know if you feel overwhelmed by the work you are being given. We are here to teach, but, more important, we are here to help.”
Professor Holt pauses. Since no question has been asked, I simply nod my understanding. Giving me another smile, the professor says, “In addition to your classroom studies, you’ll also be assigned an internship that will, alongside your book learning, teach you how best to achieve success in your future career. Juggling both can be a challenge. Once again, if you have any difficulties handling that challenge, please let us know so we can alter your workload in a manner that will best benefit you, the University, and the United Commonwealth.”
If I hadn’t seen Obidiah after Redirection, if I hadn’t listened to my own recollections of The Testing, I’d feel reassured by her words. I would believe the expression of maternal concern on Professor Holt’s face. But I did see, and the words on the recorder are etched in my memory. No matter what the course load, I will not complain. More, I will not fail.
My resolve almost cracks as Professor Holt hands me my schedule. During our Early Studies semester, every student was assigned five courses. This schedule has me attending nine.
Professor Holt leans forward. “I know the schedule looks intimidating.”
Yes. But I’m not foolish enough to admit my concern. “I’m excited to see science and math classes. I assumed those were courses reserved for Biological and Mechanical Engineering students.”
Professor Holt’s eyes meet mine. “Those who depend fully on another person’s knowledge to decide what is possible are easily manipulated. The most effective leaders utilize experts from all fields, but rely on none when it comes to making a decision. I think you will find your excellence in math and science will be more useful in your selected career path than you might have believed.”
The thought makes me smile.
“Do you have any other questions?” she asks. When I shake my head no, the professor reaches for an ornate gold bell on the small table next to her and gives it a ring. “I hope you enjoy your new residence and class schedule, Ms. Vale. And please remember, I am always here if ever you need assistance.”
The purple-clad official appears at the doorway, signaling more clearly than the bell that the meeting is at an end. After thanking the professor for her time, I head for the door. It isn’t until I’m headed back up the stairs to my rooms that I realize that Professor Holt used only my last name as she said goodbye. Not Cia. Was that a deliberate choice? I believe so. Professor Holt is leaving it to me to determine whether she is a friend or if she is my foe.
The door to my rooms is back on its hinges. Whatever they used to cover my window is gone. The Transit Communicator and the rest of my belongings are where I put them before the lights went out. The only difference is the envelope, stamped with my symbol, lying on the sitting room table. Inside the envelope are two pieces of paper, a small solar watch, and a gold key. One paper is a schedule that tells us what times the dining hall opens and closes for meals. It also says the kitchen has snacks and water available throughout the day for those who cannot make it to mealtimes.
I put the schedule on the table, unfold the second piece of paper, and read:
Government leaders must be prepared for all things at all times. For the next week, your suitability for this field of study will be tested. We hope you are ready to become one of us.—The final year Government Studies students
I try the key on the outside door lock and find it to be a perfect fit. Putting the key in my pocket, I pick up the black solar watch. It is two inches in diameter. Silver solar storage panels around the face of the watch power the glowing hands in the center. A button on the back allows the user to change the time. Another operates an alarm. I compare the time on the watch to the clock in my rooms. They are a perfect match. As long as I keep the solar cells charged, I will have the correct time, no matter what test the final years throw at us.
Turning the watch over in my hands, I try to guess what those tests could be. Michal said they change from year to year, so using his experience will not help me, but thinking of him brings back a memory from just before the start of The Testing, when we first arrived in Tosu City. Michal warned me to keep my things with me at all times. Advice I heeded. Since the note suggests I be prepared for anything at any time, I decide to follow that same advice now.
Walking into the bedroom, I put my class list on the desk and grab my University bag. I attach the watch to the strap of the bag so the solar cells will be more likely to collect power. Inside the bag I place a change of clothes, an extra pair of socks, and Zeen’s Transit Communicator. Then I try to decide what else I might need. My pocketknife. A towel. Finally, a pencil and the note find their way into my bag. Then I hoist the bag onto my shoulder and head downstairs. It is time to do what Ian suggested earlier. If I want to be as prepared as possible, I have to get to know my fellow students. It’s time to make friends.
