Graduation Day

The halls of the residence are quiet. The students I pass speak to each other in tones more muted than usual. No doubt because of Damone’s disappearance. As I pass students on the stairs, I am careful to keep my eyes down in case they can see the guilt in them. With every step, I find myself listening for a click from the Transit Communicator to tell me that Zeen is okay.

When I reach the first floor, I force myself to walk in slow, measured strides to the front door so no one can see the anxiety I feel about Zeen’s silence. With each moment that passes I am more certain something terrible has befallen him. As I push open the door, I look behind me in case Raffe has seen me going down the stairs and has followed. No one is there, so I step outside into the afternoon sunshine. According to my watch, there are two hours until dinner is served. If I am not back in time, my mealtime absence will be noticed. But I have no choice.

I straighten my shoulders and walk around the residence to the vehicle shed, trying not to look at the place where Raffe and I pushed Damone over the edge of the ravine. Wheeling my bicycle out, I look around for anyone who might be watching, then throw my leg over the seat. My feet push the pedals. Worry about my brother propels my body forward despite my fatigue.

The wheels glide over the bridge that spans the twenty-foot-wide crack in the earth that separates the Government Studies residence from the rest of campus. It isn’t until I turn down the roadway that leads to the library that I glance over my shoulder. From this distance, I can’t be sure. But I think I spot Griffin standing motionless on the bridge, staring into the darkness of the ravine below. Despite my desire to find Tomas and ask him to join me on this journey, I don’t. Drawing unwanted attention to Tomas is the last thing I want to do. I turn and begin to ride as fast as I can in hopes of finding help for my brother and myself.

Riding under the woven metal archway that so closely resembles the design of the band that now circles my wrist serves as a reminder that my whereabouts are being monitored. University students are not forbidden to leave campus, but if I venture too far afield, Professor Holt and Dr. Barnes will certainly question my motivation. Luckily, as an intern in the president’s office, I have reason to be traveling to my destination.

Past the archway I stop my bike, pull the Transit Communicator out of my bag, and turn on the navigation display. While I have traveled these roads before, I am still not confident of choosing the most expedient path. Using a strip of fabric from my stained clothing, I tie the Transit Communicator to the handlebars. Once it is secure, I press the Call button once. Twice. A third time. No answer. I swallow my disappointment and point my wheels toward the center of the city. As I ride, I picture the faces of Zandri, Malachi, Ryme, Obidiah, and Michal. All came to Tosu City looking to help the world. All are dead. I have to help my brother avoid that same fate. I just hope I won’t be too late.

Chapter 2

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.