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Examination day.
I slide the cool material of my shirt over the five long, jag-
ged scars on my arm and examine myself in the reflector. Blue,
long-sleeved tunic. Gray pants. Silver bracelet with a single star.
The star and the smudges of fatigue under my eyes mark me as
an entry-level University student. My fellow classmates show
similar signs of having studied late into the night for today. Af-
ter six months of taking the same preliminary classes, all twenty
of us will be tested and sorted into the fields of study that will
serve as the focus for the rest of our lives.
My chest tightens. I used to enjoy taking tests. I liked prov-
ing that I had learned. That I had worked hard. That I was
smart. But now I am not sure what is real or what the conse-
quences of a wrong answer will be. While my classmates are
concerned about the test affecting the years ahead, I worry I
will not survive the day.
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of the bed and slide my hand between the bed frame and the
mattress. My fingers search until they find the lump that makes
me sigh with relief. My brother Zeen’s Transit Communicator
is still safe, as are the secrets it holds.
Months ago, I discovered the symbol I carved into the de-
vice to help lead me to the recorder and the confidences stored
inside. When I finished listening to words I had no recollec-
tion of speaking, I cut open the mattress and hid the Com-
municator inside. Week after week, month after month, I tried
to pretend that what the device revealed isn’t real. After all,
haven’t I seen evidence every day that my fellow students are
good people? That the professors and administrators working
to prepare us for our futures want us to succeed? Some of them
are standoffish. Others arrogant. None of the students or edu-
cators is perfect, but who is? No matter their flaws, I don’t want
to believe any are capable of the whispered, sometimes hard to
make out words inside the recorder.
“Cia.” Stacia’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “We have
to get going.”
“Right. Sorry.” I slip into my coat, hoist my University bag
onto my shoulder, and turn my back on my questions about
the past. Those will have to wait. For now, I need to concen-
trate on my future.
Stacia frowns as I step into the hall. Her dark blond hair is
pulled back into a sleek ponytail, making her angular features
look sharper than usual. “What took you so long? We’re going
to be the last ones to arrive.”
“Which will make everyone nervous,” I quip. “They’ll won-
der why we didn’t feel the need to get there early and compare
notes with everyone else.”
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Bright white walls instead of gray. Six boys. Only two girls in
the room, one of whom is me. Tomas gives me the same wor-
ried look as I finger a pencil. The booklet in front of me is
marked with the same lightning bolt, only this time, it is sur-
rounded by an eight-pointed star. My symbol surrounded by
the symbol of my group for The Testing.
The room in my memory disappears as Professor Lee’s deep
voice announces, “Congratulations on completing the basic
studies required for all University students. Today’s test, com-
bined with evaluations from your professors, will determine
which field of study your skills are best suited for. Tomorrow, a
list will be posted with your test results, as well as which field of
study you have been directed into: Education, Biological Engi-
neering, Mechanical Engineering, Medicine, or Government.
All five fields of study are necessary to continue the revitaliza-
tion of our land, our technology, and our citizens. While each
of you has a preferred choice, we ask you to trust us to slot you
into the career path that best suits the needs of the country. Do
not attempt to guess which questions on the examination affect
direction into a specific field of study. Any students with ques-
tionable test results will be given a failing grade and Redirected
from the University student roster.”
Professor Lee scans the room to make sure the impact of his
words is felt. I can hear my heart hammer in the silence.
Finally, he continues. “Answer each question to the best of
your ability. Do not give answers beyond the scope of the ques-
tion. We are interested in learning not only how much you
know but how well you comprehend the question being asked.
Answers that go beyond the confines of the question will nega-
tively affect your test results.”
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ish my test. I roll out my shoulders and realize how stiff I am.
Between tension and inactivity, my muscles are beginning to
protest. My empty stomach is adding its complaints. While
fear of failure urges me to press on, I can hear my mother’s
voice saying a brain and body need fuel to function at peak
performance. I don’t want to run out of time, but running out
of energy and focus would be even worse.
I glance around the room. Every desk is occupied. No one
else has taken a break. Will leaving the room to refuel be con-
sidered a sign of weakness by University officials? I scan the
room for signs of cameras and find none. But just because I
can’t spot them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
My stomach growls again. My throat is dry, and my eyes
feel grainy. Regardless of how my actions might be perceived, I
need a break. If I don’t take a moment to recharge, the rest of
my answers will suffer for it.
Swallowing hard, I close my booklet, place my pencil next
to the papers, and raise my hand. Professor Lee doesn’t notice
me right away, but some of the other students do. Several give
me smug looks, as though proud their stamina is greater than
mine. Others, like Stacia, shake their heads. For a moment, I
consider putting down my hand, but Tomas’s encouraging nod
makes me raise it higher in the air.
Professor Lee spots me, smiles, and signals permission to
leave my desk. My joints are stiff as I walk to the front of the
class. A female official in ceremonial red is waiting for me
outside the classroom door. She escorts me down the stairs to
a room on the first floor where a table with food and water
awaits. I fill a plate with chicken, slices of a sharp-smelling
cheese, and salad made of fruits, greens, and nuts — all foods
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and think. How would I have felt if someone else had raised
her hand first? Had gone out for a snack while time ticked
away on the clock? I would have assumed the student had no
concern about finishing the test on time. In fact, the student’s
departure would have made me assume she would not only
finish the exam but have time to spare. Tomas’s words are a
good reminder. Thinking something is true doesn’t make it so.
Perception is almost as important as reality.
The light starts to fade as Tomas and I walk hand in hand
to the University’s dining facility. Older students tend to avoid
the dining hall, since every designated field of study has its
own residence and kitchen. Most days, the only people using
this hall are a handful of low-ranking University administra-
tors, one or two professors, and me and my fellow Early Stud-
ies students. The food provided is usually simple: sandwiches,
fruit, rolls, raw vegetables. Nothing that requires great amounts
of preparation or effort to keep warm. Despite the major mile-
stone we have just completed, the food remains the same. No
celebration for us. Not yet. Not until scores have been deter-
mined and fields of study assigned.
During the last six months as University students, we’ve
taken a number of tests. After each, the dining hall was filled
with chatter comparing answers, lamenting mistakes, and cel-
ebrating correct responses. Today there is none of that. Most of
my fellow students keep their eyes on their plates as they eat.
Some don’t eat at all. They just push the food around, trying to
look normal. Everyone feels fatigue from the test and anxiety
over the results.
I pick at the bread and fruit. Worry makes it impossible to
eat much more than a few mouthfuls. Tomas has no problem
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cleaning his plate. I guess I don’t have to ask how he did on the
exam.
Pushing away the remains of my meal, I ask, “Do you think
they’ll give us the results first thing in the morning or make us
wait until later in the day?”
Before Tomas can speculate, a tenor voice says, “It’ll happen
first thing.”
Tomas stiffens as our fellow Early Studies student Will grins
and slides his lanky body into the empty seat next to me. Inside
I flinch. Outwardly, I smile. “You sound pretty confident.”
“That’s because I am.” His eyes gleam. “I overheard a couple
of administrators talking. Pulling an all-nighter to make sure
examination results are ready first thing in the morning wasn’t
on their top ten list of favorite things to do.” His smile widens.
“They were seriously annoyed. They don’t mind making us lose
sleep, but they don’t like doing it themselves. So how did you
guys do today?”
Tomas shrugs and looks down at his plate. For some reason
Tomas won’t explain, he doesn’t like Will. Not that Tomas is
ever rude. He’s not. But the way he gives minimal responses
speaks volumes, as does the look in his eyes. There is a wari-
ness. A distrust.
“How about you, Cia?” Will asks. “I’m guessing you aced
this like you do everything else. Right?”
I wish. “There were too many questions to ace them all.”
“I know I flunked the questions on art history. I thought
they wanted leaders who could help revitalize the country.
How is knowing about a sculpture of a naked guy going to
help? A naked girl . . .” He grins again. “Now, that’s a different
story.”
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I can’t help but laugh and half listen as Will jokes about the
various test questions and speculates on whether he’ll be as-
signed his desired field of study — Education.
Will has a quick wit that I enjoy. He also has a great love for
his family, especially his twin brother, Gill, who came to Tosu
City for The Testing but did not pass through to the University.
Not long after we began as University students, Will showed
me a picture of him and his brother. Two identical faces with
amused grins. Tall, thin bodies and ashen skin that speaks of
a lack of healthy food in their home colony. Other than the
length of their hair — Will’s to his shoulders, and his brother’s
cropped short — the two were carbon copies right down to the
love and happiness shining out of their deep green eyes.
It’s the longing and love I see in his eyes that draw me to
Will even as the accusations on the Transit Communicator
warn me to stay away. I find it hard to believe someone who
tried to kill both Tomas and me lurks under the friendly smile.
But my recorded voice tells me that this is exactly who Will is.
Which is why I keep close to him. I am determined to find out
if that voice is right. About Will. About Tomas. About every-
thing.
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Chapter 2
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