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.
“I am.”
I turn, and a shiver travels down my spine. Standing in the doorway, wearing a severely cut blood-red dress, is the United Commonwealth president, Anneline Collindar.
Chapter 14
“I APOLOGIZE FOR making you wait, Malencia.” President Collindar takes a seat opposite me and crosses one leg over the other. “Being a United Commonwealth leader means your time is never your own.”
“I’m sure your father would agree with that,” Dr. Barnes says. “Don’t you think, Cia?”
Hearing Dr. Barnes mention my father steals my breath.
President Collindar speaks before I can wonder what the reference means. “I know that Jedidiah has other things he needs to attend to, as do I, so I’ll make this quick. I was intrigued when we met during your Induction. Of all the students who came into the Debate Chamber, you were the only one who recited the request without error and the only female who made the attempt for her team. Taking that kind of risk in public is often more difficult for women than men. I’m not sure why.” Her smile says she has never found it to be a problem. “My interest was further piqued when you mentioned your home colony. Debate Chamber etiquette is not as well known as it used to be, especially outside the Tosu City boundaries. After discussing your Testing
results and academic achievements with Dr. Barnes and Professor Holt, I asked that you be assigned to intern in my office. As president, my loyalties are to all United Commonwealth citizens, but it is rare that I get the opportunity to pass beyond the borders of Tosu City and talk to colony citizens. The times that I do meet with colony residents, they are too nervous or intimidated by my office to speak frankly. But a girl like you, Malencia—” She uncrosses her legs and leans forward. “Cia. A girl who is willing to risk embarrassment and possible failure by taking control of the Debate Chamber floor will be more likely to tell me what I need to know. Don’t you agree?”
“You want me to tell you about Five Lakes Colony?”
“If you think I need to know about it, yes.” She smiles.
“I hope you’ll have her do more than tell you about Five Lakes Colony,” Dr. Barnes says smoothly.
The president’s smile widens. “My office has never been included in the University internship program. Dr. Barnes and Professor Holt expressed some concern about the lack of a set curriculum, but I persuaded them of the educational value that comes with working alongside the staff of the president of the United Commonwealth.”
Dr. Barnes stiffens. “Remember, Cia, that like your fellow first years, you will have to keep up with the classwork assigned by your University professors. Just because you work in the president’s office doesn’t mean you will get special consideration.”
President Collindar lets out a light laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Cia has plenty of time to complete all her assignments. How would it look if the president’s intern flunked out of school?”
Suddenly I realize that the tension I feel in the skimmer isn’t just coming from me. No. The angry flush under Dr. Barnes’s gray beard and the challenging gleam in President Collindar’s eyes speak of something greater than an internship assignment. A power struggle that I don’t understand, but one in which I have become unwittingly involved.
President Collindar looks at her watch. “It’s getting late. We’d better get going if Cia is going to have time to tour the presidential office. I’d offer to let you ride with us, Jedidiah, but I’m sure you have business you need to attend to here on campus.”
The dismissal is cutting, despite the cordial tone. It’s clear from Dr. Barnes’s stiff movements as he exits the skimmer that he has felt the slight. The passenger door swings closed, and a loud hum fills the compartment as the skimmer’s engine is engaged. I look around the cabin and spot a small round lens in the back right corner. Whoever is operating the skimmer must have a screen in the front that displays what is happening back here.
The president sees the direction of my gaze and nods at the camera. “Sometimes, if you aren’t certain of the outcome of a meeting, it is best to have another pair of eyes watching. You never know when you might need a hand.”
The skimmer lifts off the ground and moves forward. From the window, I watch the campus fade into the distance and feel a sense of relief even as I brace myself for whatever challenge comes next.
President Collindar leans back against the gray cushions. I try my best to sit still as my mind whirls. I have been assigned to intern with President Collindar. The most influential person in the United Commonwealth Government—who, from the looks of things, does not get along with Dr. Barnes. Michal implied Symon’s plan to end The Testing peacefully requires the support of President Collindar. I will be keeping my eyes and ears open.
After several minutes of silence, the president turns and looks at me. Not sure what to say, I ask, “Are we going to the Central Government Building?”
“Not today. When I was elected president, I moved my private office to a building a few blocks away. I find it is easier to think in a space that isn’t quite so chaotic.”
“I didn’t know that.” In fact, I remember our guide showing us the entrance to the president’s office when we toured the Central Government Building during orientation.
President Collindar smiles. “We don’t advertise. You’d be amazed how many people can’t make a decision without asking my opinion if they think I’m right down the hall. Now that they have to walk a few blocks, they can handle the little problems. The big ones . . .” She sighs. “Well, those are the ones the citizens of the United Commonwealth expect me to deal with. Today, you’ll meet some of the people you’ll be working with. But before we arrive, I’d like to stress that I am dedicated to the entire country. I believe in the mission the survivors of the Seven Stages of War embarked on when they founded the United Commonwealth Government. Not everyone does. And those who do often have different visions as to how that mission should be carried out. As you might have guessed, Dr. Barnes and I don’t see eye to eye on a great many things. Because of that, I often find that I am not as well informed about the University programs as I would like. I’m hoping you can remedy that situation.”
“I don’t understand.”
President Collindar leans back. “Don’t you?” Her eyes search my face. “The students who attend the University are the next great hope of this country. It disturbs me when I hear that many of those students fail to make it to graduation.”
She waits for me to speak. Words bubble inside me. I want to explain what I know of The Testing. Expose the brutality Dr. Barnes and his team have advocated. Condemn the process that has been allowed to flourish in the center of a city that was created to represent hope. This is the moment I have been waiting for. That the rebels have been waiting for. Yet, instinct stills my tongue. President Collindar is the most powerful person in this country. If she wants information about The Testing and the University, why hasn’t she received it before now? I shift in my seat. Surely, if the president demanded answers, someone would be compelled to give them. Too many people are involved in The Testing for them all to remain silent. If it is answers she seeks, why is she posing her questions to a first-year University girl instead of to those who have not had their memories removed by The Testing? There is something more at work here. Something I need to understand better before I risk my future and the future of the rebellion.
When I don’t answer, President Collindar sighs. “I don’t expect you to trust me. Not yet. But I hope that by working with my staff, you will realize that I have the best interests of this country at heart. If there is something more about the University program that I should know, I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to share that information.” She glances out the window as the skimmer begins to slow. “We’re here.”
The door opens. President Collindar walks to the doorway, takes someone’s hand, and gracefully exits. I follow behind and take the hand held out to help me. When my feet hit the ground and I start to thank the person, the words lodge in my throat. Standing in a purple United Commonwealth uniform with a pleasant but impersonal smile on his face is Michal Gallen.
Michal is here. I try to feign interest in the building in front of me as he releases my hand, but I cannot stop the pounding of my heart. Michal said he was being reassigned. If he is here, the rebellion must know what I know about the president’s dislike of Dr. Barnes. Symon’s faction should be in a position to end The Testing. But if the president is asking questions of me, she either doesn’t believe what she has been told or they have yet to approach her. Why?
I try to catch his eye, but Michal keeps his attention straight ahead as we approach the office, which the president informs me is housed in one of the oldest buildings in Tosu City. Constructed several hundred years ago out of gray stone, with rounded turrets and a functioning clock tower, the structure resembles the castles in some of the fairy-tale books my mother read to me and my brothers when we were little.
Michal opens the large wooden front door and President Collindar sweeps past him. Two men and two women in Commonwealth uniforms greet us in the white tiled entryway. A muscular man in a black jumpsuit stands behind a desk near the front door. The president nods and he takes a seat, but not before I see the glint of a metal handle at his belt.
/> “Cia.” The president turns to me. “Several pressing matters have come up and need my attention. This is our newest team member, Michal Gallen. He’ll give you a tour and introduce you to the staff. When you’ve finished, we’ll go over the first assignment I’ve set aside for you.”
The four Commonwealth officials flank her as she disappears through a door down the hall to the right. When the sound of footsteps fades, I turn to Michal and smile. He doesn’t smile back. He just glances at his watch and nods. “The president’s main office is on this floor. To save time, we’ll start the tour on the top floor and work our way down.”
He walks quickly toward the black iron-railed staircase and starts to climb. I hurry to catch up and am breathing hard when we step onto the narrow fifth-floor hallway.
“The clock tower stairs are through that door.” He points. “The clock and this entire building do not run off city power, but instead run off three-dimensional monocrystalline solar panels. The power we don’t use is then fed into the Tosu City power bank to ensure nothing is wasted. As President Collindar mentioned in the skimmer, she doesn’t like waste.” He turns and shrugs. “I probably shouldn’t have listened to your conversation with the president, but the inside of the skimmer isn’t designed for privacy. Kind of like this building. Everyone here tends to know everyone’s business. You’ll get used to it.”
I understand the words for what they are: a warning.
The top three floors house cramped offices and larger spaces filled with historical objects and pictures. As I walk by the pieces of my country’s past, I can’t help but run my fingers across them. Framed photographs of soldiers. Women in long dresses holding what I think are called tennis rackets. An old-fashioned car from the early twentieth century. A display of hand-held weapons. An ornate organ. A phonograph. Wooden desks in a room designed to look like a late-nineteenth-century classroom, which makes me smile. The classroom is smaller, but it doesn’t look much different from the one I studied in back in Five Lakes.