I BARELY NOTICE my surroundings as I zigzag through the city, careful to keep an eye on the Communicator’s readout. As I ride, I consider what I know. The president’s disapproval of Dr. Barnes is obvious. I have observed their mutual dislike firsthand. But though the president wishes to remove Dr. Barnes from power, no one knows whether she will alter or end the University selection process. The Testing is terrible in its methods, but it has gotten results. The clean water we drink and the number of colonies with revitalized land prove the leaders the University has trained are skilled.
Can the president be trusted to change the system when it is yielding such results? I don’t know. But as the wind whips my hair, I realize that if I want to try to end The Testing, I am going to have to find out.
Residential streets give way to roads with larger buildings as I ride into the heart of the city. Personal skimmers hover above for those with business that demands attention on a Sunday. I turn down another street and see the distinctive gray stone turrets and clock tower of the building that houses the office of President Anneline Collindar.
I store my bicycle in the rack next to the entrance and pull open one of the large wooden doors. Two officials dressed in black jumpsuits approach. Two others hold their positions on either side of the arching door in front of us. The color of their clothing, their white armbands, and the silver weapons hanging at their sides signal their standing as Safety officials. Only Safety officials are allowed to carry weapons inside government buildings. The law was created after the Seven Stages of War when the people gathered to debate whether to form a new central government. Arguments for and against a new government body were heated. Many believed that the last president of the United States, President Dalton, and the other world leaders who held power leading up to and through the stages of war were to blame for corrupting the earth and causing so much death and destruction. Others argued that an organized government was still essential if the hope of revitalization was to be fulfilled. All citizens were allowed a voice in the debates, but some believed weapons were more persuasive than words. It was the firing of those weapons by opponents of a new government that swayed many to believe lawlessness would prevail without one. The first law passed after the vote to establish a new governmental entity banned all firearms from the Debate Chamber floor. Ten years later, the ban was expanded to all government buildings.
Today, I am in violation of the law. To obey, I would have to surrender the gun Raffe gave me. Something I am not willing to do. I do not know how the president will react to what I must tell her. I have to be prepared for whatever might happen.
Shifting the weight of my bag on my shoulder, I walk to the broad-shouldered Safety official who stands behind a small black desk. I give my name and show him my bracelet. When he nods, I straighten my shoulders and walk through the arched doorway that leads to the president’s office.
Since my internship began a few weeks ago, I have learned that while a few young, dedicated members of the president’s staff can be found working on Saturdays and Sundays, rarely does the president herself walk these halls on the Commonwealth’s designated days of rest. With the president scheduled to call for a debate on Monday, I expect more officials to be working. I’m not disappointed. The hallways I pass through to get to the president’s first-floor office teem with activity. The air crackles with tension as officials huddle around desks, talking in hushed voices. A few look my way as I pass by, but most are too preoccupied with their own business to notice me. I walk through a large meeting space where a board displays this week’s debate schedule. TESTING AND UNIVERSITY OVERSIGHT is marked in red letters under the date two days from now.
Finally I come to the large white wooden door of the president’s office. The desk to the left of the door sits empty. I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it.
Locked. A knock confirms my suspicion. The office is empty.
I retrace my steps back to the main hall and climb the iron staircase to the second floor. Weeks ago, I made this climb for the first time while following behind Michal. I’d been shocked to see him here. He’d pretended not to know me as he gave me the tour of the building—one of the oldest in Tosu City. After climbing the last step, I slowly walk down the hallway toward a set of double doors flanked by two purple-clad officials. Michal said the doors lead to the president’s private quarters.
Wishing he were standing beside me now, I walk up to the officials and say, “I have a message for the president.”
The dark-haired official on the right frowns. “The president is not on the premises. You can leave the message on the desk outside her office downstairs. A member of her upper-level staff will receive it tomorrow.”
I recognize the words for what they are. A dismissal. Though being cleared into the building says I have a right to walk these halls, no amount of confidence can hide my youthful face or small stature. Both mark me as a student who should not have any reason to send missives to the leader of the United Commonwealth.
“There must be a way to get a message to the president.” I use the firm, measured tone my father employed whenever he talked to Mr. Taubs about his goat eating the new seedlings planted near his farm.
“There is,” the gray-haired man to the left admits.
Before he can order me to leave, I say, “My name is Malencia Vale. I’m the president’s intern. President Collindar asked me several weeks ago to speak to her about a specific subject. I would like someone to get her a message that I am here and am willing to discuss that topic now.”
“The president does not take—”
The gray-haired official holds up a hand, cutting off his partner’s angry words. Quietly, he says, “I will have your message sent, and I hope it is as important as you believe. If not, you’ll discover there’s a cost to your misjudgment. Is that a price you are willing to pay?”
Cost. I know what Dr. Barnes’s price is for a failure in judgment. Does the president require the same payment? I have not worked in this office long enough to know its secrets, but I know Michal did not fully place his faith in President Collindar. I don’t either, but I have only to think of Tomas and all those whose lives could be threatened to know that no matter the price, I will pay it.
A nod is all it takes for the gray-haired official to disappear through a small door to the left. When he returns he says, “I’ve relayed your message. You’re to wait here.”
For what, he doesn’t say. The president? Officials who have deemed my request inappropriate? The only thing I am certain of is that my request to speak to the president has not gone unnoticed. Younger officials whom I have seen working in the cramped offices on the upper floors whisper to each other as they walk down the stairs in groups of twos and threes. While they pretend to be on some kind of errand, the looks they send in my direction speak of their true purpose. I hear one whisper that they hope I know what I am doing.
I hope I do, too. The more people who walk by, the more certain I am that news of this meeting request will spread beyond this building. Michal’s job in this office was arranged through Symon’s connections within the government. Symon planted Michal here to keep an eye on the president and report her plans, but I doubt Michal was the only informant assigned to that task.
Resisting the urge to pace, I keep my eyes straight ahead and hope the nerves I feel do not show on my face. After what seems like hours, a dark-haired woman in ceremonial red appears at the top of the stairs. She gives me a considering look before handing the gray-haired official a note. He reads it, nods, and walks over to me. “This way.”
He leads me to the double doors of the president’s private quarters. Opening the doors, he steps back and says, “You are to wait in this room. They will come for you when they are ready.”
Before I can ask who “they” is, the official nudges me into a small antechamber. The doors behind me close. The dim lights and gray walls make the room feel as if it is caught in shadow. A bright white door stands directly in front of me. The silver knob is polished to a shine.
A memory stirs. Six white doors with silver handles. Five marked with black numbers. The sixth is the exit. This door resembles the ones I stood in front of during the third part of The Testing. A test designed not only to evaluate our individual academic skills, but to examine our ability to assess correctly the strengths and weaknesses of our teammates.
“Malencia Vale.” A female voice emanates from a small speaker in the wall. “You may now enter.”
I put my hand on the knob and take a deep breath. During The Testing I had to make a decision—to walk through the door and face the test I found inside or to leave without entering. To believe that my teammates were working toward the same goal or to think that one who should be working for the common good had betrayed. During The Testing, I left through the exit. Today, I turn the knob and go inside.
No one is there.
The large room is painted a sunny yellow. Situated on one side is a long black table. On the other is a grouping of blue-cushioned chairs in front of a crackling fire. To the right of the fireplace is a closed door.
I open my bag, turn off the Transit Communicator, and take a seat in one of the cushioned chairs as the door opens. President Collindar stalks in. Her tall stature and sleekly cut black hair command attention, as does her fitted red jacket. She nods to acknowledge my presence and turns to speak to someone standing in the doorway behind her. “I’ve given you all the information I have. I hope you’ll be ready.”
“You can trust me,” a male voice says.
My breath catches as a gray-haired man comes into the room and gives me a broad smile. The same smile I saw him give this morning, just a moment before he pulled the trigger and ended Michal’s life. A smile that belongs to the rebel leader—Symon Dean.
Metal glints in the light as his coat shifts. He has a gun. Most likely the same one he used to murder Michal. His eyes meet mine, and I feel the pull of them just as I did when we met before. We have met only twice, during the fourth stage of The Testing, when he gave me food and water. Aid that he supplied to give the rebels a sense of victory, to keep them from feeling they could more successfully end The Testing on their own. But I am not supposed to have those memories. Any sign of recognition will be a sign that my Testing memories have returned.
Blood roars in my ears. I swallow down the anger and fear and force my expression into one of calm interest. Seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before Symon shifts his attention from me back to the president. “Everything will be ready, but I still think you should postpone the debate.” I try not to show surprise at Symon’s words as he and the president walk farther into the room. “While postponing will be viewed by many as a sign of weakness, the extra days you gain will give us a chance to rally more votes. As it stands now—”
The president raises a hand and shakes her head. “Already there are those who waver in their support. A delay could push them to change their minds. Unless you can guarantee that you will be able to find what I need—”
“You know a guarantee is not possible.”
“Which means the debate goes ahead as planned. One way or another, by the end of the week I will declare victory.”
“Then there is much to discuss.” Symon gives a weary sigh, but I do not think I imagine the triumphant glint I see in his eyes. Suggesting the president would lose political clout by postponing her Debate Chamber proposal was his way of eliminating any thought she had of doing just that. He is smart. I hope she is even smarter.
President Collindar nods. “I will meet you downstairs as soon as I am done discussing my intern’s University experience. I thought having a student refresh my memory of the curriculum would help, considering the topic of this week’s debate. This shouldn’t take long.”
Symon casts one more look at me before nodding his head and disappearing through the door. When he is gone, President Collindar sits in a chair across from me. “I told Symon and other members of my staff that I asked you to meet with me this weekend after you finished the work you were assigned by your teachers. I thought it would be safer for you if word spread that you were here at my command instead of by your own initiative. There are events happening this week that could make it difficult for you to be seen as more than just an intern for me and my office.”
“I know,” I say.
One of the president’s eyebrows rises, but she does not speak. She simply waits for me to continue. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. How I present my information is just as important as what I say. I must keep calm. In control. This is the most important test I have faced thus far in my life. Too much is riding on the correct answer. I cannot fail.
“I know your team has been searching for tangible proof that Dr. Barnes’s methods for Testing and in running the University push beyond the bounds of what is acceptable. I’ve been told that without this evidence, the vote to remove Dr. Barnes from control will be unsuccessful.”
President Collindar leans back in her chair. Her dark hair gleams against the light blue fabric as she studies me. “Your information is accurate. Could the reason you’re here now change that?”
“I hope so. Although not in the way I think you mean.” I take a deep breath and explain. “The Tosu City official who escorted me from Five Lakes Colony to The Testing began working for you just before my internship started. His name was Michal Gallen.” I see a flicker of awareness cross her features as the name registers. “Michal told me he was transferred to this office through the influence of a man named Symon, who was leading the movement to put a stop to Dr. Barnes and his extreme methods. I was informed that because of my age, it was too dangerous for me to be involved in the rebellion against Dr. Barnes. I had nightmares about my Testing experience. I didn’t know if the flashbacks were real, but they made me determined to help in any way I could. Without Symon’s knowledge, Michal gave me a task. He asked me to help find the proof needed to convince the Debate Chamber to vote Dr. Barnes from power. Yesterday, I brought Michal the evidence you’ve been seeking.”
President Collindar leans forward.
Before she can ask for what I can no longer give, I say, “Michal took the evidence to Symon.” Her smile falters as she shifts her attention to the door through which Symon withdrew. “Since Symon didn’t know about my involvement, Michal was reluctant to bring me to the rebel camp. I insisted. I hid as Michal turned over the proof that would have brought an end to The Testing. And then I watched as Symon took out a gun and shot him. The evidence is gone. Michal is dead.”
President Collindar studies me. Her expression is devoid of emotion. My heart thuds in my chest. I fight the urge to squirm under her gaze. I want to beg her to believe me. But I can tell she is weighing my words. Judging my motives. My honesty.
Finally she says, “You claim Michal Gallen is dead. Can you prove it?”
“No,” I admit. Although maybe I could. Raffe was there. If the president were to summon him here, his account could add weight to mine. But I have not mentioned his involvement. To do so now might make President Collindar wonder what else I haven’t been forthcoming about. Perhaps more important, if President Collindar does not believe me, she will certainly mention this meeting to Symon. Redirection will not be far behind. In case Raffe is truly to be trusted, I will not entwine my fate with his. However, I realize there is one fact that will lend credence to my words. “Michal will not report for work Monday or in the days to come.” I ball my hands into fists as tears filled with sorrow and guilt prick my eyes and lodge in my throat. “His absence will confirm I am telling the truth, but by then it will be too late.”
“Too late for what?” President Collindar asks quietly, but I can see by the tension in her jaw that she has done the equation in her head. If I am to be believed, Michal is dead by the hands of someone she’s close to. Someone who has helped plan this vote and the attack on Dr. Barnes that is scheduled to come with its failure.
Still, I answer. “By the time people know for certain Michal is missing, you will have already made your proposal on the Debate Chamber floor.” Commonwealth law states that once a proposal is made and the debate on it has begun, the proposal cannot be withdrawn. The debate must be allowed to continue and a vote taken. The law was created to ensure that all matters brought to the debate floor would be carefully considered. “As soon as you do that, you set in motion the events that Symon and Dr. Barnes have orchestrated. They want your vote to fail and the rebels to attack. The minute that happens, Dr. Barnes’s supporters will move against them. They will remove both the threat to The Testing and you from office with this one fight.”
“And look heroic doing it.” President Collindar’s words are barely a whisper. So faint that I question whether I have heard her correctly. Heroic is the last thing I would call Dr. Barnes’s plan for eliminating those who oppose him.
But now that I think about it, I realize President Collindar has seen what I did not. Out of necessity, the rebels have been operating in secret. Their cause is unknown to Tosu citizens save for a few who may have recently been imposed upon to take up arms. And even if it were revealed, most citizens do not know someone who was chosen for The Testing. A fraction are related to those who sat in University classrooms and became the country’s leaders without undergoing The Testing or experiencing Redirection. Very few would celebrate a rebellion that would likely shed innocent blood for a purpose they do not personally understand. If Dr. Barnes and Symon’s plan is successful, the rebels will be killed almost immediately after the violence begins. Without the rebels to speak for their own cause, Dr. Barnes can paint their purpose as one designed to take down the United Commonwealth Government and destroy the country’s revitalization mission. His supporters will claim him as a hero. History has ever rewarded the victors.
President Collindar rises and stands in front of the fireplace. “Symon is working with Jedidiah.” Her voice is quiet. Controlled. Yet I hear the thin veil of tension that coats her words. “Setting up a rebellion against himself is smart. It allows him to control both those who follow and those who oppose him. Jedidiah’s strength has always been in strategy.”
“You believe me?” I ask. Amazement and a strange sense of peace flow through me. Not only have I passed this test, I have handed this problem to someone with the power to prevent a series of tragic events. Zeen and I can let her take care of it.
“I do believe you.” The president turns back to me. “You didn’t think I would. And yet, still you put yourself in danger to get this news to me. Even before we met in the Debate Chamber, I’d heard you were different from your peers. Perhaps because Jedidiah’s tests are not designed to reward those who are willing to sacrifice themselves. From what I know, sacrifice during The Testing often results in a candidate’s elimination.”
“Elimination.” A more pleasant word than “death.”
“It’s unusual that someone like you has gotten this far,” she adds.
I think about The Testing. More than twenty of us passed the fourth test and sat for final evaluations. Dr. Barnes could have eliminated me then. Why didn’t he?
President Collindar takes a seat again. “Perhaps you can answer a few questions. How many of the rebels are working with Dr. Barnes? Also, is Ranetta partnered with Symon or is she as unaware as I was?”
“I don’t know.” I wish I did. “I’ve never seen or talked to Ranetta.” Something that now worries me, considering my brother is working side by side with her and the other rebels. “Symon ordered some of his team to carry Michal’s body away. They didn’t seem concerned by Michal’s death. But I have to believe most of the rebels want to see The Testing ended.” Michal would not have put his faith in the rebellion if that weren’t the case. Neither would Zeen.
“I believe they do. Unfortunately, I cannot be certain which rebels are to be trusted and which would claim they are on our side in order to remove us. And since you say Michal’s position in this office was orchestrated, most if not all of my staff’s loyalty must also come into question. It is impossible to know which are loyal to Symon’s purpose or to me.”
She’s right. Tension builds as the president falls silent and stares into the fire. Her lips purse—the only sign of the magnitude of the problem that faces her. It is in this moment that I understand why she was chosen to lead.
She nods. “Symon will be wondering about this meeting. I have to go downstairs. Remain here. Someone will bring work to occupy you so those who are watching will not question your continued presence. I will be back soon.”
“But—”
President Collindar strides out the door and into the hallway, from where I hear her say, “Someone will be back with a project for Ms. Vale to work on. At least then her time here will not be completely wasted.”
I hear the door shut and I rise from my chair. Despite the relief I feel, I cannot sit still. Pacing the length of the floor, I think about President Collindar’s reaction to my words. Her quick acceptance indicates that she had concerns about the trustworthiness of the rebels already. Yet despite that, she continued to work with them. Michal once told me that though she holds the top government position, President Collindar has less power than Dr. Barnes. I think I finally understand how this can be true. The title of “leader” only brings authority if the officials and citizens you work with follow you. The term “president” is meaningless if people turn to someone else for leadership. With so many Commonwealth officials allied with Dr. Barnes, possibly even those in this office, President Collindar has been forced to work with those she might not have full confidence in to regain the control she needs to keep the country unified. Not only do presidents have to be smart enough to understand the problems that come before them, they have to find potential solutions and a way to inspire others to follow their lead.
President Collindar took office less than five years ago, after President Wendig died. He served in the office for thirty-four years. My Five Lakes teacher called President Wendig one of the greatest leaders history has ever known. When I studied the huge advancements in clean water, power, food sources, and colonization that were made under his leadership, I had to agree. Now I have to assume that President Wendig knew about The Testing and what was expected of the students who passed through The Testing Center’s doors. How many of the accomplishments he presided over were made possible because of students who were forced to sacrifice their lives? Did he actively support Dr. Barnes’s program? If so, does that diminish the advancements that came under his guidance? My uncertainty about the answer disturbs me deeply.
There is a knock at the door. Moments later, a young red-clad official appears, loaded down with several large folders filled with paper. Behind her is another female official also laden with paperwork. The two place the stacks of papers on the table. The second turns and leaves as the first says, “President Collindar asked that you organize these reports on University graduates based on where they grew up. Once you do that, she requested that they be alphabetized.” Her sympathetic smile says that she believes I am being punished with busywork for not providing more useful information during my meeting. Walking toward the door she adds, “A lot of us are going to be working late tonight. If you’re still here when the president leaves, we’d be happy to help.”
Clearly, the president’s plan to make people think I wasted her time has been successful.
While I know the papers are not part of a real assignment, I choose to organize them anyway. If nothing else, having something tangible to focus on keeps me from worrying about the president’s meeting with Symon. I assign areas of the table and nearby floor to the city and each of the colonies. Then I pick up the first stack of papers and get to work. Not surprisingly, since Tosu City was the only established concentration of people for the first twenty years after the United Commonwealth was founded, most University graduates have come from the city. Although, looking at the paperwork, I can see that there were fewer students at the start than there are now. Probably because more people were needed then for the physical labor involved in restoring the city.
As the first colony, Shawnee has the next largest concentration, immediately followed in number by Omaha, Amarillo, and Ames. Not surprisingly, the space I reserved for my own colony sits empty for a long time before I find the first student from eighteen years ago. Seven years after Five Lakes was created.
Dreu Owens.
Magistrate Owens’s son? My father once said she had a child but that he was no longer with us. I assumed he meant that the child had died. Instead, he was selected for The Testing and survived to attend the University. According to this file, he studied Biological Engineering and was assigned an internship with a research team working on techniques designed to reverse mutations in plants and animals. Putting the paper in the section I designated for Five Lakes, I wonder what job he was assigned after he graduated and if he is still in Tosu.
The stack of unsorted papers grows smaller as I continue my work. I am starting on the last stack when President Collindar walks in holding a gray folder. Gone is the muted sense of concern I saw when she left to meet with Symon. In its place are strength and confidence.
I scramble to my feet as she says, “I apologize for the delay. Symon had a number of thoughts on this week’s activities. Letting him talk gave me time to come up with a plan.” She crosses the room to the table where I sit, looks directly at me, and says, “I cannot cancel the Debate Chamber vote. Not without raising Jedidiah’s and Symon’s suspicions. But tomorrow morning a member of my staff will be reported as missing. No one will question a postponement while my team dedicates all its resources to finding him. I believe Symon will outwardly applaud the decision, all the while sowing dissention among the rebel factions and pushing them to schedule an attack. I can convince them to hold off while we search for Michal. If I am lucky, I might be able to postpone their actions for a week. I only hope it will be long enough.”
“For what?” I ask.
“I thought that would be obvious,” she says. “There is no choice. We must carry out the rebels’ plan to end The Testing.”
For a moment I am speechless as her meaning hits home. “The rebels were going to start a war.”
“That has never been the intention,” she says. “The plan is for the rebels to coordinate the elimination of specific targets. The loss of life will be limited to those threats marked for termination. Of course, when violence is employed as a tool, there is always a chance of unexpected casualties. But those involved in creating this plan worked to design a blueprint that would limit losses as much as possible.”
Strategic targets. Termination. Tools. Blueprint. Clean words for the bloodletting they imply.
She opens the folder she is carrying, pulls out a piece of paper, and hands it to me. On it are eleven names. The first is Dr. Jedidiah Barnes. Professor Verna Holt is also on the list, as are Professor Douglas Lee and a man named Rychard Jeffries—whom I am almost certain is Raffe’s father. Just holding the sheet of paper makes my pulse race and my palms start to sweat.
President Collindar doesn’t appear to notice my discomfort as she explains, “The direction of The Testing and the University is headed by a select group led by Dr. Barnes. They are members of the University, officials in key government positions, and research scientists whose work has been used by Dr. Barnes to benefit The Testing. All of the people listed have enough influence and authority to retain control of the University and Testing programs even if Jedidiah is removed from the equation. Symon helped create this document, so there is a chance it is flawed, but I believe the plan is still valid.”
“You want to murder Dr. Barnes and his top administrators?”
“No.”
I let out a sigh of relief as President Collindar reaches over, takes the paper from me, and slides it back into the gray folder. “I’m not going to kill Dr. Barnes and his followers.” She places the folder in my hand. “You are.”