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Chapter 11

“It feels good to be outside!” Charleston exclaimed to New York and Savannah, taking a deep breath of the forest air.

The three friends were sitting around the fire pit in front of their fort for the first time since Professor Slive had found them sneaking into City Dome. After the Council had questioned each of them individually, their parental core had grounded them until the Test. They were confined to Red Dome except for class and training. And while it hadn’t even been a week, Charleston had gone more and more stir crazy until he’d begged Claire and Martin to let them spend their last day before the Test in Podkind Forest.

The pair had relented, but only after reminding him about the need to rebuild the trust he’d lost by sneaking out of Red Dome.

He still couldn’t believe what had happened that night. First, there was Paris and his preternatural means of communicating with Apu. Then there was sneaking through the tunnels and the Trunk, only to get caught by Professor Slive of all people. He still had no idea how his most hated professor had been the one to discover them. And just when he’d thought all their efforts had been in vain, they’d managed to make it to the room with the records right under the nose of Claire and Ale.

And all of that wasn’t even including what they’d found out about Violet. Could she really be thousands of years old? It didn’t seem possible.

“It just doesn’t seem possible,” he said aloud into the comfortable stillness that had settled between himself, New York, and Savannah. Jacksonville had been avoiding them ever since that night, and Paris had, well, Paris was Paris. Who knows where he was?

“Again with all that?” Savannah asked with a sigh.

“Well, I just don’t get it,” Charleston began.

“The simplest explanation is the likeliest,” Savannah replied. “No one lives thousands of years, Cure or no. Violet must have snuck into the Council of Nine Building and planted those records.”

“Ugh,” Charleston said in frustration. “But why? And how is that the simplest explanation? Whoever said that didn’t know what they were talking about.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “Sure, okay.”

“Seriously, how could a girl sneak into the Council of Nine Building?”

Savannah shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s a lot easier to believe that than it is to say a girl who looks younger than us is thousands of years old!”

“Look,” New York interjected before the argument could spiral its now-familiar trajectory into raised voices and various baseless accusations. “We all know Violet is not a normal girl, thousands of years old or not. She was right about the Observatory. Charles jumped. So did a lot of people. No matter what the Council has said, that’s not normal. Something weird is going on and Violet is a part of it.” He paused, looking between Savannah and Charleston, as if gauging how they were receiving what he’d said so far.

“Now,” he continued when neither spoke, “if we accept that as a fact, then Violet wouldn’t have to be the one to sneak into the Council of Nine Building to plant the fake records. One of the people, one of the adults,” he quickly added, “who jumped could’ve done it at any point before Founder’s Day.”

“But why?” Charleston asked. “And if all that is true, that means there’s some kind of, I don’t know, group or…” he waved his hand in front of his face, looking for the right word.

“Movement,” Savannah supplied.

“Movement, yes,” he quickly agreed. “It means there’s some kind of movement in New Washington who wants, first, to kill itself and, second, to convince some teenagers that New Washington is somehow corrupt.” He shook his head. “I don’t see how that’s the simplest explanation.”

“It’s still simpler than someone being thousands of years old,” Savannah replied quickly.

New York held up a hand to Charleston to stop him from retorting. “Look, we know there is a group of people who killed themselves. That’s a fact. We also know that one of them told us New Washington isn’t what it seems. Also a fact. Whether that’s true or not, or to what degree it’s corrupt, who knows? What we do know is that Charles, and likely those others, believed it. We also know that Violet is connected to it all somehow. All that other stuff about why us or why kill themselves, that’s not really relevant.”

Charleston snorted. “Seems pretty relevant to them.”

New York smiled briefly. “I mean, it’s not relevant in deciding if Violet is really that old or if the records are fake.”

“Look, Char,” Savannah chimed in, her tone softer. “I looked through probably a dozen records before I found Violet’s. All of them had dates of birth and death. None of them were of people who lived that long.”

“Except for all those other ones with Violet’s!”

“But, if people really did live thousands of years,” Savannah replied, still calmly, “wouldn’t there have been other records outside of that one group showing that? Wouldn’t there have been drawers full of records of people that old?”

Charleston shook his head. Something wasn’t right about this. About all of this. But he just couldn’t get his brain around it. It was like trying to read upside down, only to realize the text was gibberish. There were familiar letters but no words.

“Who is she, then?” Charleston finally asked. “Who is Violet?”

Savannah sighed. “Who knows? Probably some kid from another dome. This movement could easily include people in the other domes of New America.”

“Or, she could be from an enemy dome,” New York added. “She’s here to sow seeds of confusion and discontent. There’s a long tradition of sabotage in military history. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has infiltrated a society to try and overthrow it.”

“Then why didn’t either of you say anything about her to our parents?” Charleston asked quickly. “If you really think she’s the enemy.”

Savannah sighed. “We just don’t know.”

“And telling our parents we snuck around the Council of Nine Building after we’d gotten in trouble for sneaking around Podkind Dome isn’t in our best interest,” New York added dryly.

“Besides, you already told Mama L. about her,” Savannah continued. “And all of New Washington knows about the people who jumped, no matter what the Council is saying about it. There’s no point.” She paused. “Just like there’s no point in us thinking about it anymore. We have more important things to worry about.”

Charleston said nothing. There was nothing else to say. They, or rather, Savannah and New York, had once again come to the conclusion that Violet was the enemy, here to mislead them. But if the simplest solution really was the most likely, how was that the most likely one? He shook his head. And that’s how his argument with them started and ended. It was a circular discussion that left him unsatisfied and annoyed. He didn’t have the words or the logic to prove them wrong, but he knew in his gut that they were. There was something more to Violet than just a kid playing a joke or an enemy sent to infiltrate New Washington.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said, standing abruptly.

Savannah raised her eyebrows at him. “To look for Violet?”

“No…yes,” he said with a growl of frustration. “Look, we did what she said, twice. She showed up after the first time. She should be here already!”

“She’s not going to show, Char,” Savannah said, though she, too, stood.

He glared at his friend a moment before stalking off into the woods in the direction of Dragon’s Heart.

“We should be studying,” Savannah called out to him. “Our Test is…”

“Tomorrow,” he threw over his shoulder. “You think I forgot?”

“I can’t study anymore anyway,” New York said, setting out after Charleston. “And you don’t need to,” he added to Savannah. “Let’s go.”

Charleston didn’t look back at his two friends, but he was glad to hear them follow. He wasn’t really angry at them for disagreeing. He was mostly angry at himself. And at Violet, he realized. As exciting as it had been to meet a stranger and sneak out of Red Dome, the reality was that Violet had been nothing but trouble. Without her, he and the others would’ve continued preparing for their Test, discovered their Purpose, and moved on to the next level of their training. But now, instead of excitement and anxiety over the day they’d lived their whole lives to get to, Charleston was thinking about Violet and arguing with his friends about who she was and what she wanted from them.

Maybe she really was an enemy, he realized with a clarity that suddenly felt right somehow, like his inner voice was speaking a deep truth. Even if she wasn’t from another dome or part of some greater movement to overthrow New Washington, she had brought him nothing but disruption, confusion, and, if he were honest, death. He’d never seen anyone die until that day on top of the Observatory. And she had been the one to tell them to go there. Wasn’t all that enough to make her an enemy regardless of anything else?

His anger suddenly sharpened as he found its source and its target. If Violet did show up, he’d, he’d…he didn’t know what he’d do exactly, but he had to confront her. He had to see her face when he told her about what they’d found and what it meant. He had to call her out on her lies.

The clearing where Dragon’s Heart sat came into view. Charleston walked quickly up to the huge, irregular stone and looked around anxiously. Any minute now she would appear…if she were to appear at all.

Nothing. New York and Savannah avoided making eye contact. Charleston remained stubbornly silent. As the minutes dragged by, no one seemed to want to be the first to state what was fast becoming obvious.

“Look at this rock,” Charleston said finally, trying to buy a little more time, “and tell me how you think she disappeared.”

“I don’t think she did,” Savannah replied. “There’s bound to be a logical explanation.”

“Like a trap door in the rock,” Charleston suggested. “That’s logical.”

“It’s possible, but I wouldn’t say it’s very logical. Why would there be a trap door here of all places?”

“We know there are tunnels that run beneath the branches,” New York said. “Maybe there’s an entrance here.”

“Maybe.”

“We should ask Paris,” New York suggested.

“I still can’t figure out how he opened those doors,” Savannah said. “Or got us past Apu without sounding the alarm.”

“Uh, easy, he didn’t,” New York replied. “Remember? We got caught.”

“Come on, Apple. Apu ignored us all the way to the Trunk. And he opened the doors in the Council of Nine building, too!”

What Charleston found really curious was how the parental core had handled learning of Paris’ ability. At first they’d appeared surprised. Stanton, in particular, had asked a million questions, forgetting momentarily he was supposed to be punishing them. But then Claire cut him off and there was no further discussion of it. But the next day, Martin and Claire took Paris out of Residence Dome to talk with him alone somewhere. Paris told them they took him to Med Dome to be examined, but Dr. Williamson pronounced him healthy and normal.

“Not much makes sense from that night if you ask me,” New York replied. “Can we go yet?” he continued after a moment. “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, she’s not coming, Char.”

The three cut across the rest of the forest towards the main road. Charleston felt his anger begin to fade into frustration. What did her absence mean? Why send them after the records and then not appear to explain her purpose? It just didn’t make any sense. But, like New York had just said, very little made sense about that night or Violet or…

“Whar ya’ be ‘eading?” a now familiar voice sang out from the woods to his left.

Charleston spun in the opposite direction. He was ready to stop her stupid voice games before they got started. “Come out already!” he shouted, anger and, if he were honest, excitement, magnifying his words. They would get answers from her now, one way or another. If she really was part of some crazy movement unhappy with New Washington, they could turn her in to their parents. And if she wasn’t, if she was just some strange kid from another pod playing a particularly complex and involved trick on them, then, well, then he wouldn’t take her anywhere to punish her. He’d beat her right here and now.

“Someone’s in a tizzy,” Violet said, stepping out from behind a tree just in front of them. She was again in her brown cloak, hands hidden in its folds, the hood pulled up.

Charleston felt his face go hot and his adrenaline start pumping. “You’re a liar!” he shouted. All the eloquent and clever things he’d imagined saying to her in this moment disappeared as soon as he laid eyes on her. Only this fact remained.

Violet put a slender hand to her chest and gasped. “Me?”

“We made it to the records,” Savannah said, her voice hard. “We looked you up in the database. You weren’t there.”

“And is that all you found?” Violet asked, her tone light and mildly interested, as if she were inquiring about the weather.

“We found the files you planted, too,” Savannah continued.

“Ah, I see,” Violet replied. “Tried and convicted without the slightest chance to defend myself, is it?”

“What?” Charleston couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s the only explanation,” Savannah continued. “There’s no way you’re thousands of years old.”

Violet said nothing a moment, then threw her hood back. Instead of her usual sparkling eyes and dancing smirk, her face looked somber. And tired. “Green said you wouldn’t believe it,” she muttered.

“What?” Charleston repeated. Was that all he could say? He finally had the object of his anger and he was reduced to monosyllabic words and impotent rage.

Violet’s face suddenly changed and she beamed a smile at them. “I see you’ve got it all figured out then.” She paused. “But let me ask just one question before you go citizen-arresting me.”

Again Charleston was more confused by her words than anything else, but he refused to say what a third time and sound even more idiotic.

“Why do you think I’m not in the database?”

Savannah snorted. “Because you’re not from New Washington. That’s why you planted those fake folders. You or someone you’re working with.”

“I see,” Violet replied thoughtfully. “One more question. Let’s say I really am the enemy, here from some foreign, hostile dome to infiltrate New Washington and overthrow its ruling bodies. To do so, I enlist the help of some teenagers. But, in order to convince them to help me, I send them to find proof that I’m lying about who I am. Why would I do that?”

“You probably didn’t think we’d check the database,” New York replied, though it sounded lame even to Charleston’s ears.

Violet didn’t even laugh. She only stared at him and waited.

“You still could’ve planted those records,” Savannah said. “That would explain why you’re not in the database.”

“Fair enough,” Violet conceded. “But let’s just say I’m telling the truth. That I am from New Washington. Why would the Council remove the record of my birth from a database anyone with a wrist computer can access?” She paused. “Because, I assure you, I am from New Washington. I know because I was there. When I was born and all,” she explained with a smirk and a wink at Charleston.

“You’re saying your birth has been covered up?” Savannah asked dubiously.

“Not just my birth,” Violet answered. “My very existence.”

“Why would the Council do that?” Charleston asked, finally finding words to go with his voice.

“Now that’s a right question!” Violet beamed.

“Because you’re thousands of years old,” he answered.

Violet’s smile widened.

“That’s not possible,” Savannah retorted.

“And if it is?”

A twig snapped from the direction of the road.

“While you’re pondering the repercussions of that unpleasant truth…”

Savannah snorted her disagreement.

“…ask yourself why the Council has sent its goons after little old me if I’m just a young girl,” Violet finished.

“What are you talking about, goons?” Charleston asked as Violet turned and disappeared into the woods behind them, back towards Dragon’s Heart.

“Because you’re the enemy!” Savannah shouted, but Violet was gone.

Charleston could hear muffled movement through the trees now. “We should go, too,” he whispered.

“I agree,” New York replied, starting back towards their fort. “I have no desire to listen to more of Martin and Claire’s lectures.”

The three children disappeared into the woods around them, almost as effectively as Violet had. They made their way quickly through the dense forest. Charleston paused long enough to see four dark forms weaving through the trees towards where they’d been talking with Violet. There were two armored orbs flanking them.

Part of Charleston felt relieved that someone else was finally taking Violet seriously. He wouldn’t have to wonder if he should tell his parents what they’d found out about her and risk getting in even more trouble. But another part wondered if what she was telling them about her age was true, then what did that mean? How was it possible? And why? And how did the Dome Guard know she was in Podkind Forest with them? Once again, Violet had left him with more questions than answers.

 

 

♦

 

“Well?” came Green’s familiar voice from the darkness in front of her. Violet had just returned from Podkind Forest.

“Do you lurk in the shadows waiting on all of us when we’re out doing your bidding?” she asked annoyed. “Or just for me?”

“Did they believe you?” the figured named Green asked, ignoring Violet’s questions.

Violet sighed. “The girl definitely doesn’t. But I think the others are still unsure. The one called Charleston has the most doubts.”

“Doubts aren’t good enough, Violet.”

“It’s not an instantaneous thing, getting someone to lose faith in the place they’ve called home their whole lives,” Violet replied defensively. “It takes time. The seeds have been planted. There are a few tender shoots poking through the surface.”

The figure snorted. “You and your metaphors. We’ll wait. For now. But if things don’t progress the way they must, we’re going to do it my way.”

 

 

Chapter 12

Their Test. For so long it had been in the distant future, a blurry, nebulous thing that seemed more fiction than fact, like those fairy tales told to children of old Earth, untrue but oft repeated to teach them lessons and keep them in line.

But now it was today.

Today was the day that would decide Charleston’s fate. Would he do well enough to make the Dome Guard? Or would his overall disinterest in most of his classes and his hatred for Slive combine to qualify him for only the most menial jobs in New Washington? Would his obsession – Savannah’s word from the night before – with Violet cost him his dream?

He, New York, and Savannah had made it to the fort unnoticed by the goons sent after Violet. From there, they carefully returned to Red Dome, making sure to exit Podkind Forest as far away as possible from Dragon’s Heart. Once back home, Savannah had been less interested in deconstructing Violet’s words and more at criticizing Charleston for being so obsessed with the strange girl.

“It’s a waste of precious time,” she had nearly shouted in response to him asking what she thought Violet had meant. “It’s been a waste of time. Our Test is tomorrow and instead of studying, we…you’ve been focused on doing this strange girl’s bidding. And why? Because she told you to? Or because you just don’t want to study? I don’t get it! You’ve been talking about making Dome Guard for years, but instead of doing everything you can to succeed, you’re letting some stranger derail and distract you!”

Charleston had been stunned at his friend’s outburst. Then hurt. Then angry. “I didn’t see you try and stop us from going to the Observatory! Or sneaking into City Dome! You went along with everything perfectly happy. Until now!”

“Arrgh!” Savannah had shouted before heading to her room. She turned at the door. “Violet is the enemy, regardless of where she’s from or how old she is. If she’s not, then that means you believe her about New Washington.” She paused to give Charleston a moment to process this. “Who are you going to believe? A strange girl we only just met, or the adults and reality we’ve known our whole lives?”

And with that, she had left Charleston to feel angry and sorry for himself over her harsh words. New York had tried to comfort him, saying Savannah was just stressed about the Test, but Charleston knew better.

And now he was in the auditorium, sitting next to her and New York, blanketed by an awkward silence between them, while simultaneously engulfed by the surprisingly loud din of 150 students’ whispered conversations. All the podlings from all the pods sat nervously awaiting the start of the Test. It would be an 8-hour ordeal. Charleston was trying not to think about it, though this written portion was far less frightening than the oral part that would follow the next day. Savannah was muttering facts to herself to his left, while New York was staring straight ahead, his eyes distant and locked on something only he could see.

A door at the front of the auditorium opened and three people Charleston didn’t recognize entered, followed by what looked to be every professor in Podkind Dome. A wave of hissed whispers passed through the crowd of students.

“It’s the Planners.”

“Are those the Planners?”

“Why are the Planners here?”

Savannah stopped muttering and sat up straight.

The three Planners, dressed in gray uniforms that were accentuated by a strip of red cloth at the end of each sleeve and pants leg, with a matching one around their waists, stopped in the center of the auditorium facing the podlings. The professors filed in on either side of them. By the time they were all inside and in their places, the furious whispers had ceased and the students were silent.

The Planner in the very center stepped forward. She was an older looking woman with silver hair pulled up into a bun at the back of her head. She wore glasses attached to strings that disappeared somewhere behind her neck. She stopped with clasped hands in front of the podlings and wordlessly surveyed the group, slowly moving her head from right to left as if staring at each one of them in turn. Then she smiled a bright smile at them, her eyes sparkling with what appeared to be mirth.

“Welcome to the day for which you all have so long been preparing,” she said in a loud voice. “The Test!” she exclaimed, sounding as if she thought the children should be excited to take it. “The moment you get to show your worth, display your knowledge, and reap the rewards of your hard work and the hard work of your professors,” she said, indicating the men and women flanking her with a sweeping arm. “This day is the most important of your short lives and will go down in history as the day New Washington found its saviors.”

The auditorium erupted in not-so-quiet exclamations and conversations over this statement.

“Saviors!? Of what?”

“Did she say saviors?”

“She can’t be serious!”

Charleston shared a look with Savannah and New York and saw his own confusion reflected in their eyes.

“No pressure, right?” New York muttered.

“Now,” the woman continued, silencing the crowd, “take out your holoscreens and holopens,” she commanded with no further explanation of her introductory remarks. “You will have eight hours to complete this exam, which is divided into eight one-hour parts. You will have a thirty-minute break after the third and sixth part. Be as thorough and as accurate as possible in your answers. You may begin,” she finished with another bright smile.

Charleston looked down at his holoscreen. The title page of the Test greeted him. He slid his finger across the screen and turned the virtual page to the first section. “History and Culture of Old Earth,” it read. He groaned. Of course his weakest subject would be first. Charleston sighed and got to work.

Time went by much faster than he had expected going into the Test. He had imagined it to be a grueling and boring trial of endurance and ability to stay awake more than a gauge of his actual knowledge, but he was pleasantly surprised. He found that he enjoyed answering many of the questions and knew more than he thought he did. Besides the history and culture of old Earth, there were the expected sections on science and technology, mindfulness and maturity, and combat. He felt that he did at least a decent, if not a good job on these parts.

The other four sections were more of a surprise. One was on battlefield tactics and famous wars, which he found really intriguing, even if he was unsure of many of his answers. Another was just a set of scenarios that each ended the same way, asking them what they would do if they found themselves in the described situation. They were given four or five possible answers to choose from and they had to select the one that most closely matched what they would do in the given scenario. They started out relatively simple, but grew in complexity.

At first, Charleston thought this section was fun, as each scenario essentially was a puzzle that needed to be solved. It wasn’t long, however, before he grew frustrated. Many of the scenarios had no answers that matched what he thought would be best to do in the situation. Each of the possible answers provided had noticeable and sometimes severe drawbacks that would have prevented him from choosing them in real life. He found himself struggling to decide on the least bad answer, but after a few more such scenarios, he deleted his answers and left them blank. He tried to write in his own solutions, but this section wouldn’t allow him to do anything but check boxes.

“That last part was annoying,” he told Savannah, New York, and Jacksonville during their final break. They were allowed to use the bathroom, get something to eat at a buffet-style table set up outside of the auditorium, and talk with each other during the breaks. The four of them had spent the first one recounting all the hard questions. Whatever awkwardness they’d felt had disappeared in the reality of their shared struggle and suffering.

“What do you mean?” Jacksonville asked.

“The answers we had to choose from just didn’t seem like the best possibilities.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Savannah said. “I just tried to pick the least bad one.”

“Me too,” New York agreed.

“I left a bunch of them blank,” Charleston said, feeling much more anxious about this decision now then when he had made it during the test. The widening eyes of his friends only made it worse.

“What do you think the final two sections will be on?” Jax asked.

“Could be anything, I guess,” Savannah answered, frustration clear in her voice. “They should have told us what would be on the Test. How were we supposed to prepare for it if we didn’t know what to prepare for?”

“I’m sure you’re doing just fine,” New York replied. “You know everything, remember?”

She rolled her eyes at him and went back into the auditorium.

Charleston was eager to get the last two sections done. His brain hurt and he felt fatigued. Who knew just thinking could tire a person out almost as much as a couple of hours of combat training?

The last two sections were the most unexpected, most difficult, and most strange of them all. The seventh part of the test was all math problems. The podlings hadn’t studied math in several years and many of the kinds of questions on the Test were far more complex than anything they had ever been taught when they were taking math class. Charleston quickly found himself just guessing answers at random after staring at what amounted to a foreign language to him.

The eighth section was the bizzarest yet. The podlings were each given a helmet with a clear visor to wear. They were then presented with a variety of puzzles on their holoscreens. In one they had to move objects from one point to another through a maze without hitting a dead end and in as few moves as possible. In another they were presented with a page full of facedown cards, each of which had an image on it. Each card among the group had a twin, also face down, with the same image. They had to match the cards with each other through trial and error and memory as quickly as possible. Another puzzle was a picture of a room, like a kitchen or dining room, and they were given a list of objects they had to find within the room itself. However, the picture was full of misleading and camouflaged items.

The puzzles themselves started out fairly simple and even fun, but as with the set of scenarios, they became more and more difficult and complex. What was so odd about the entire section, though, was that the helmet would suddenly make random sounds, or flash lights, or even vibrate. At one point, it got super hot. Later, it got just as cold. Charleston would be carefully scrutinizing a picture in search of an object of some kind when a sudden bright light would flash right in his eyes, or the whole helmet would get hot and he would break out in a sweat as he was trying to decipher an optical illusion. He found it more and more difficult to concentrate on the puzzles themselves and not on trying to brace himself for when the next sudden shock would come and where it would come from.

At one point he heard another podling shout, “Take it off! Take it off!” He looked in the kid’s direction and saw two professors hurrying to the boy, who was clawing at the helmet frantically.

Charleston wondered if the whole point of this section was to test how hard, or easy, it was to annoy them. It was probably no accident that this section came at the very end, when they would be at their most exhausted and irritable. The final puzzles were the worst of all. They were all different except for one key similarity. There was no solution. It was like they were being given a round peg and a square hole and told to put the peg in the hole. Except, the puzzles themselves were much more complex. Charleston found himself going over and over each of the various moves only to come to the same frustrating conclusion. There was no possible way to solve them. Meanwhile, his helmet was still flashing lights and making loud noises at random. He no longer wondered why that boy had lost it. He was about ready to smash his helmet and his holoscreen into a million tiny pieces himself.

Luckily for him, the bell sounded signaling the end of the section before he reached his breaking point. He removed his helmet, took a deep breath, and pushed his sweaty hair off of his forehead. He’d been letting it grow out of late. The Test was over. Finally. Now they just had to prepare for the oral portion. He wondered how that would take place given how many students there were compared to professors. Would each student go before all of his or her professors? Or would they be assigned just one or two randomly? Was it possible that some other pod’s professors would question Charleston? Or worse, would the Planners themselves take part in the examination?

Before he could turn to his podmates with these questions, the three Planners entered the room. The older woman again took the lead. Charleston briefly wondered why her two male colleagues, also silver-haired and bespectacled, were there at all.

“Congratulations, podlings!” the woman said with a large smile. “You have successfully completed the first part of the Test. As we speak, your answers are being analyzed by our computers and are waiting for your respective professors to go over them. Be proud! You have already accomplished a great deal.” She again slowly surveyed the group of students, as if trying to bestow her encouraging smile on each of them in turn. “The Test is not yet over, however,” she continued after a few moments. “Tomorrow will be the second part, the practical portion.”

Murmurs and whispers rippled through the auditorium.

“The what portion?”

“I thought it was going to be an oral exam?”

“What exactly does practical mean?”

“Each of you will be placed in three live scenarios,” she continued. “I emphasize the word live, because it will feel and seem like real life to you. You will make real decisions and perform real actions. It will be similar to the simulated battlefields you have practiced in on the Combat floor, except much more real. It is difficult to describe,” she said after a pause, “though even if I could give you a completely accurate description of exactly what it will be like, I would not. That is part of the Test, to see how you adapt and adjust to an unknown and unfamiliar situation.

“Do not worry or fret too much about it tonight,” she added, seeing the frightened faces of the podlings staring at her in surprise. “There is nothing you need to study or do to prepare. Your training up until this point has already prepared you and there are really no wrong actions or answers. The Planners simply want to see how you act and the decisions you make to best ascertain your future roles within your pods. The oral portion of the Test will follow, don’t worry,” she continued, as if any of the Podkind would be upset had she told them the orals were canceled. “Now, get out of here!” she shouted with a laugh. “You’re free until tomorrow morning! Go eat! Sleep! Be children one more night!”

The podlings stared at her in silence, no one moving. The Planners left, led by the old woman. Once they were gone, the room erupted in sound.

“What in the world was that all about?” New York asked. “A practical what?”

“As opposed to theoretical or abstract,” Savannah said absently. “What we just did tested our knowledge but in an unreal way.”

“It felt pretty real, especially that last section,” Charleston quipped.

“No, I mean, it’s all facts and things we know. Being able to talk about an injury or a disease, to be able to diagnose it on paper is important, but it’s abstract. It’s equally important for a doctor to know how to treat that injury or disease in the real world. I guess tomorrow’s Test will be designed to see how we act in real-world situations. Real-life situations.”

“Real live situations,” Charleston corrected.

“It amounts to the same thing.”

Charleston fought the urge to roll his eyes at her.

They were slowly making their way to the auditorium’s exit behind some kids from Blue Pod who were having a similar discussion as their own.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell us about this either!” Savannah added, again sounding very frustrated.

“Don’t you think that’s the point?” Charleston replied. The tension between them that had momentarily disappeared during the Test was returning. “Just like she said, they want to see how we react in unfamiliar situations. In situations we specifically haven’t prepared for.”

“It’s annoying,” she said. “I hate not being prepared.”

“You mean, you hate not knowing all the answers ahead of time,” New York corrected. “Welcome to our lives,” he added with a smirk.

Charleston and the others spent the rest of the evening trying not to panic too much about the practical portion of the Test the next day. But it hung over and between them like some sort of dark secret. No matter what they were doing, it dominated their thoughts and conversations. They ate dinner immediately after the Test and talked about it. They walked back to Red Dome, where they told their parental core all about it. They went to bed early and thought about it instead of sleeping. And when sleep finally came, they dreamt about it.

For the first time in weeks, Charleston didn’t think of Violet a single time.

 

The Podkind is a science fiction/fantasy novel written by Johnny Cycles. The next installment is scheduled for March 29th!