As the days go by, I discover I'm adept at analyzing imagery data. I have always been able to see the details in the world around me, but never before has this skill been one that I have been asked to refine. However, I recall being able to generate formulas for determining water consumption based on data back in science class, so I guess the analytical skills have always been there in some form.
Following computerized aptitude tests, the equipment I'm given is a type of binocular. I catch on quickly to the various settings that range from a traditional view to one that creates a coordinate grid of the landscape. I can verbally input specific coordinates of various topographical features from this grid to create a holographic map of the landscape. As I master this tool, I begin to wonder about its uses. Maybe, I could map and locate untapped water sources. This would be a perfect specialty to be a part of, and I put my heart into the training.
As I continue to practice using the equipment, I realize that it almost seems like second nature for me to view my surroundings through the scope and note various landmarks or features. In this, I find some peace. When I look through the scope, the rest of the world fades away until all I am aware of is the landscape. If only I could escape into that terrain and leave this all behind.
Perhaps this is all part of the plan because I slowly begin to accept my fate after I find my niche. Whatever the ulterior motive of the faceless many that are orchestrating everything and regardless of my angst, I begin to look forward to my training, and my instructors take note. They begin to pull me from specific classes in the training forum and take me out into a separate facility, eliciting resentment from the other recruits. I admit that it's a relief to leave behind recruits like Mica. He's going to be a Sentinel and not one of the good ones. He's too much of a jerk to put any compassion or understanding into that role.
One instructor, Rafe, takes particular interest in me, and as the days pass, it becomes apparent that I'm being groomed for a specific position. I should feel some alarm. After all, this is not for me. I am not a drone. But as the days and weeks pass, it gets harder to maintain my dissenting attitude for my situation. As if from afar, I feel myself slipping away, but something dulls any internal warning, and I let it happen.
As a reward for my progress, I'm given leave to contact my parents. It's good to connect and hear that they are doing well in their new unit. Mom even sounds happy, which is quite remarkable.
"Can you believe that our water credits have increased, Enora? We've been able to use our full ration for the first time. The whole thing! And it's all because of you, baby."
I smile. "That's great, Mom. You and Dad deserve it."
"Oh sweetie, I'm so proud of you for doing this."
It feels kind of strange to hear her gushing like she is, but I suppose not having to scrimp and go without all the time can be so life-changing that her personality would show the effects. As our phone call continues, I talk about small things and listen to them fill me in on this and that, but I really want to ask if they have heard anything about Safa. But I can't voice this. Most likely, this call is being monitored, and I won't take the risk. So my questions sit there inside my head, unanswered and inescapable.
When Rafe comes to the refectory after morning meal a few weeks later and pulls me for a special assignment, I welcome it, feeling pride. As I follow him, I can sense the stares burning in the back of my skull, and I allow myself a small, smug smile. I'm sure that it's noted, but my own internal high at being singled out makes me feel invincible.
I follow Rafe into the quad. A jeep waits in the lot just outside the main building. "Hop in, Enora. I'm taking you out into the field to see what you can do," Rafe tells me in his deep voice.
I nod. I rarely speak since coming here, even to him. I climb into the jeep with its electric hum. Rafe drives us out of the training center. We stop at the checkpoint, are scanned, and then head through the barbed wire fence and on to the surrounding mountainside. Upon leaving the compound, I feel a weight lifted and take a deep breath of what I deem freedom.
After traveling for what must be an hour, Rafe pulls off the main stretch, and we head up a rutted, dirt road to a shrub-covered area of the mountain that overlooks a town, one I have never seen before as it is located miles from the training compound. Rafe pulls the jeep to a stop behind some scraggly bushes at an angle that blocks the view of the vehicle from the other side of the mountain. He jumps out of the jeep. I do the same and join him as he crouches along the cliff perusing the town below.
It looks so much like Prineville. There are worn buildings from better days dotting the streets, modular housing in organized sections, barbed wire fences bordering the perimeter. I feel a pang of loss as I view it, so much like home and yet a world away. Rafe's voice breaks through my reverie.
"Grab the scope out of the back of the jeep. We're going to see what you can do."
I walk over to the jeep and lift a corner of the tarp covering the back. Then, pulling out the scope, I begin to wonder just what it is that we are going to be doing today. I have a vague sense that something is wrong and yet no real basis for any unease.
"I want you to set it up under the cover of those bushes over there," Rafe says as he points to my right. I have done this many times. The scope has a tripod that is easily extended to any height. I walk over to the bush and pull out the equipment, efficient in my movements, which has become second nature to me from training. Once the scope is set up, I turn to Rafe. "All set."
He looks at me and then strides over to check the scope. I half-smile. There is nothing he will need to adjust. I know what I am doing, and I take some satisfaction in this. Rafe turns to me, gestures, and then launches into the exercise he wants me to perform.
"Enora, as you know, you have shown great aptitude in using the scope, and it has not gone unnoticed by myself or other instructors. We are out here today to see if you can put those skills into action." He pauses, and I nod for him to continue.
"The town below us is Clearcreek. You are to locate these following structures."
He hands me grainy satellite images of what looks like common facilities you'd see in any town. However, I find a few unusual, as they are more like residences or something of that ilk.
"You have ten minutes."
My eyes bug. Shit! Only ten minutes? I have never seen this town before, and while I know I'm pretty good, this seems unfair. Clearly, I don't say anything aloud. What would be the point? Instead, I ask, "Where is the access point?" All imagery data I produce using the scope begins with a point of origin. It is like the opening move in a chess game.
Rafe explains that the point of origin is the gully on the eastern perimeter of the border. And that's it. No more information is forthcoming. I decide to start at the town square and work my way out, as the most important facilities are usual centrally located. The other, less important, structures make me more nervous under the time constraint. Once I pinpoint each structure, I will have to input the data into the scope and then indicate multiple paths from the point of origin to the coordinates of the buildings.
I have done similar tasks at the training center with partially hidden objects set in locations of varying difficulty. I have sharp eyes, and the scope allows me to input the object's location and then map paths through obstacles to that object. Once I have entered the coordinates, the scope generates a three-dimensional map showing each path I have identified leading to the object.
But being an actual town adds a layer of realism to the exercise, an element absent in the confined training yards. My only consolation is that my position on the mountainside provides an excellent vantage point, and the streets are much easier for me to navigate with the scope than some of the maze-like training situations that I have been given prior to today.
I take a deep breath, adjust the scope, and say, "I'm ready."
I lean into the viewfinder and begin scanning the buildings. No more than a few seconds pass when I hear a siren and see people flooding the streets. Ah, so this was the real test. Could I perform the task with a sea of people as an added diversion? I block out all sound and focus. The gully is just outside the border and is easy to locate. I note it with the scope as the base of my paths. I scan the streets, making calculations that would make the most efficient paths before narrowing in on targets, many of which are indeed located in the center of the town.
An added element of pathfinding is identifying minimally inhabited routes, a task that is becoming increasingly difficult, as the entire populace seems to be emerging at once. From the start, I am forced to delete three of my paths as I note high numbers of people infiltrating the selected channels. It is frustrating, as it almost seems intentional that clusters of humanity are suddenly heading down a route I have found. I begin to wonder if this particular test is rigged to fail to see how I handle being unable to complete it. I grit my teeth and shake off the worry, determined to work faster, to get ahead of the swarming masses.
I quickly adjust the scope to get a closer look at each structure and mark two paths to each of the buildings with the mapping system in my unit. The civic center proves more difficult, and I don't spot it until I am in a final couple of minutes of my time. I then have to find the last two, the unusual targets. Sweat beads on my forehead as I begin to panic when I can't locate one of the residences. Finally, I spot it and then branch out from that point to identify the last objective. After I mark the final structure and its coordinating paths, I let out a huge breath. In the aftermath, I feel my pulse racing with adrenaline. Layers of sweat have plastered my hair to my head, and my hands have a slight tremor as the stress of the training exercise takes full effect. I fight to return my breathing to normal and then turn to Rafe, looking down at me with a small smile.
"Congratulations, Enora, you have been requisitioned to be a Pathfinder."
I don't think to wonder why we pack up and leave our vantage point so quickly.