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I pass another note to Tomas, asking him to join us and sharing the idea that I have. When he walks up to the library table where we are gathered, the shadows in his eyes have faded, replaced by a hint of excitement.
For a while, he works next to me in silence. When some of our study companions begin to work together on assignments, Tomas turns to me and asks, “Did you finish the transmitter assignment yet?”
No one at the table is in our class. They have no idea what assignments we are working on. So I dig through my bag, pull out a piece of paper, and say, “I have a couple of ideas written down.”
While conversations about physics and literature swirl around us, I show Tomas my idea for an external transmitter that would be set to the same frequency as the one in our bracelets. In theory, the external transmitter would create enough interference that the signal from the device in the bracelet would be drowned out. Whoever was monitoring on the other end would read the problem as natural signal obstruction instead of tampering.
Tomas grins, helps perfect my design, and suggests we make extra transmitters to scatter around campus so other students’ signals experience the same technical difficulties. By the time we pack up our books for the night, we have a workable plan in place. When I get back to the residence, I head for the labs and get to work. I find a variety of resistors, batteries, capacitors, wire, coils, and transistors in the lab’s supply cabinet. My eyes are tired and my fingers cramped by the time I have assembled and tested five two-inch-long, one-inch-wide transmitters. I have also created a small receiver set on a different frequency that will light up when I flip a small switch. Now I will be able to signal to Tomas if I need his help. I hide one blocking transmitter behind a portrait in the currently empty hangout room before going upstairs to bed.
During classes the next day, I hide three of the transmitters on campus. When Tomas and I cross paths, I give him the receiver and an update on where I’ve hidden my transmitters. Tomorrow he will hide his. At dinner, an announcement is made. The internships will be assigned on Friday.
When Friday dawns, the first years and our guides are asked to assemble in the gathering room after breakfast. Most are dressed in their finest clothes. Boys wearing jackets. Girls in gauzy dresses. I did not bring fancy clothes with me for The Testing, so I am dressed in brown pants, a turquoise shirt, and my scuffed boots. Instead of pulling back my hair, I brush it until it gleams, like my mother did when I was little. Since I am more than happy to let officials track my movements today, I leave my transmitter hidden under my mattress when I go downstairs to learn what my assignment will be.
Dressed in deep crimson, Professor Holt stands near the fireplace. Lips that match the color of her jumpsuit are curved into a smile. “Today begins one of the most important parts of your education. It’s not enough to answer test questions correctly. You must be able to work well with others and apply the knowledge you have received to real-world situations. Your internships give you important experience that will help you be effective leaders after you graduate from the University.”
Her eyes pan the room. “Unfortunately, after meeting with your final-year guides and talking to your professors, we have concerns that some of you are not up to the challenges thus far presented. We have taken your academic achievements up to now into consideration when assigning internships. Some of you might be disappointed with the choices we have made, but we do so in the best interests of your future and the future of the United Commonwealth. Remember, while we consider these internships essential to your education, your classwork is just as important. Alternate arrangements will be made for students whose work falls below acceptable standards.”
Alternate arrangements.
Redirected.
Dead.
“When your name is called, your final-year guide will escort you to meet with a representative from the government department in which you will be working. Regardless of what internship you are assigned today, you should be proud of how far you have come and all that you have accomplished. We’ll start with Juliet Janisson.”
The dark-haired girl rises from a seat in the corner, joins her guide, Lazar, and disappears out the door. I wipe my palms on my pants as we wait for the next name. No one speaks as the seconds tick by. Several times I catch Griffin watching me. He whispers something to Damone that makes them both smile.
One by one, students are called. Guides walk with their charges out of the room and then return to act as escort to the next first year. Finally, only Ian, Professor Holt, and I remain.
The fire crackles.
The ceiling above us creaks.
I fight not to squirm under Professor Holt’s penetrating gaze. Finally, she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry you had to wait until the end, Malencia.”
“Someone has to be last,” I say, glad to hear my voice doesn’t betray the nerves I feel.
Professor Holt nods. “That’s true, but in your case, it was a deliberate decision. Certain events during your Induction raised questions about the kind of future you should have within this institution.”
My heart swoops into my stomach and my knees go weak. I’m thankful Professor Holt doesn’t expect me to reply, because I doubt I could squeeze the words through my clenched throat.
“Because of your unique circumstances, we had to wait until a time when the officials interested in your case could be available for this discussion.” She looks at her wrist and smiles. “That time would be now. Please follow me.”
Professor Holt sweeps out the door without a backward glance, and I follow. I look to Ian, who keeps pace beside me. When he takes my hand and holds tight, I know I am in serious trouble.
We are led across the bridge, where a sleek silver skimmer gleams in the sunlight. I want to run fast and far, because the only reason for a skimmer to be here is to transport me away from the University. To what or where, I don’t know, but it can’t be good. Despite my desire to flee, I hold fast to Ian’s hand and wait for whatever surprise Professor Holt has in store.
The passenger compartment door opens, and Professor Holt gestures for me to enter. Ian drops my hand. My legs are uncertain as I approach the skimmer. After one last look at Ian, I take a deep breath, climb inside the cabin, and see Dr. Barnes seated on one of the soft gray seats that line the wall. He gives me a familiar smile.
“Sit. Please.”
Despite the pleasant tone, I understand the words for what they are. A command. One I obey.
“I apologize for the unusual location of this meeting. As you know, at this juncture in your University career, Professor Holt and I normally assign you the internship we believe best suited to your skills. In this instance, however, we have been asked to pass along that responsibility to someone else.”
Hope blooms as I realize Dr. Barnes is in fact talking about an internship. I am not being Redirected.
“Who’s assigning my internship?” I ask.
