Chapter 4 #2
I drag my feet toward the living room to talk to my mom.
I would have told my parents something was wrong earlier, but they were too wrapped up in their ambition and in their daughters becoming successful that they had forgotten about the entire act of parenting, especially my mom.
I was only close to my mother when I was little. And I miss her more, everyday.
“Mom, can I talk to you?”
My mom’s face is fixed on her computer screen. She raises her hands to stop my feet from making any further movement. “Shhh, I need quietness. I’m preparing for my press conference tomorrow. What do you need?” she says.
Gently I tiptoe toward her. Tugging on my bottom lip, I try to watch my words in order to avoid saying something that will be too distracting. “Have you talked to Levon recently?”
“Of course not. She’s at school.”
“Right… well I talk to her, occasionally, but she hasn’t picked up for a while now.”
She doesn’t respond. I sit down next to her, but she does not look my way. Annoyed, I shut her laptop screen. “Can you listen to me for once?” I insist.
“Don’t ever do that ever again,” she warns, pointing her finger at my face. She opens her laptop and continues to type. She yawns at my presence, making me uncomfortable and irritated.
“I think Levon is in danger! She said something about The Commons being deathly. We need to help her.”
“Of course it’s deathly. Deathly to laziness and the pursuit of a mediocre life. We do not need to help her. We need to help you figure out what college you would like to go to. World leaders are not made of clueless seniors.”
“Mom, I’m not clueless. I’m most likely going to be the valedictorian, and I just won nationals with my friends.”
“Urgh!” She smacks her hands to her head, seemingly frustrated at something. “Shantavia, just try to win at life by focusing on yourself and letting your sister become great. The Commons is like winning a lottery. Maybe you should go.”
I nod with my mouth half open, but I am too hurt to speak. I walk out.
My dad always supported my mom, like a puppet, so the chance of getting through to him was little to nothing. Yet I had to try, for Levon’s sake.
I barge into my dad’s office and insist that he or mom call the school and ask about Levon. “Dad, Levon is in a deadly place, she used those words herself. All I am asking is just one call to the school.”
“Honey, Levon is in the best school in the entire planet. You guys are teenagers, you use words like dead flippantly.”
“Maybe when someone says—I’m dead—maybe from laughing, but not when someone says a place is deadly. That’s different!”
“Honey, I don’t need an explanation of your generation. Unless you can tell me how to win them over in the polls this Tuesday?”
With a defeated sigh, I realize my parents are probably like every parent of privilege, they are too trusting of The Commons.
That’s it. There is only but one thing left to do—call the school and impersonate my mother.
I sneak into Levon’s perfectly tidy room with white and black shades and a minimalist aesthetic. I search and finally I find a phone number in a golden envelope under her pillow. Picking it up in haste, I quickly dial the number and ask about Levon’s whereabouts.
A patronizing voice says, “Your daughter is doing well. She recently opted for the study abroad program here at The Commons. Her grades are impeccable, and she is on the track to graduating with honors. Apart from that, we cannot expose any information about her whereabouts for her educational good since this is a highly protected facility. She is in safe hands here at The Commons.”
“But I just want to speak with her. I miss her, I miss my… daughter!”
“We will make sure to send her your love and well wishes. Bye now, my dear!”
Beep… Beep.
I call back and ask to speak to the highest authority: the Patron De Londe.
After several failed attempts, I decided I must do something! But what? Figure out a way to enroll in this school my sister said was deadly? Crap. I was running out of options.
The next day, we received a letter from Levon telling us she had indeed decided to study abroad and would not communicate with us for a while.
My parents were ecstatic. Only the brightest students were chosen to work for one of the industries and businesses associated with The Commons.
I, on the other hand, was livid. I knew something was wrong.
I look at tosh—the timekeeper that appears and floats in the air showing us the time. It’s surging past me. Crap! I can’t be late. I have to remember not to make any mistakes. I have to keep my head down: be calm, collected, and common. These three things I recite in my brain.
I step to the other side of the classroom to see ten students congregating in a corner. I join them, and we follow Pesh toward a door on the other side of the room that leads us outside. I watch him carefully. I don’t want to give him a reason to punish me again.
We enter a spacious, transparent dome, cross-sectioned with intersecting lines.
I walk a little slower, to take in the view, but mostly to avoid him.
The sunlight, after passing through the dome, is a pale blue, and the sky above is distorted at places.
As I notice a bird perched on the top of the dome, I realize that the dome is perfectly clean: no bird poop, leaves, or anything.
I shift my gaze from above and look ahead.
On the edges of the dome are pods shaped like the proportions of a human.
Each pod has a thick glass cover. The pods stand, titled slightly backwards, on a shiny black pole.
The pods’ lower half is a reflective black color and even from a distance, I can see wires protruding from various areas inside each one.
Below each pod is a helmet—like the kind NASCAR drivers use.
“This,” Pesh elaborates, “is commonly referred to as the pod.” He smirks a little, then continues.
“This is where we test your cognition. Before entering your pod, you will be given Conzamine, a highly potent drug that lasts for twenty-four hours. You each will be given a unique code. This code, said only once, is 173 characters long and will be a mix of numbers, letters, and special symbols. You will put on your helmet, and we will hook you up to your pod. There will be a mini clock on the right-side of your peripheral vision.”
A highly potent drug? I take a deep breath, but my heart won’t stop racing.
“When you are ready,” Pesh continues, “the door of your pod will close, and you will be transported into a virtual world. There, you must pass a challenge, or you will fail. Due to Conzamine, your senses will be heightened, and you will have all that you need to complete the challenge. At some point during the test, you will become unconscious, but we will simulate your answers to the remaining questions based on your brain activity. With the information on file, we will simulate your greatest fears and record your brain activity and reaction to them. After this, you will regain consciousness, exit the pod, and then you will need to repeat the 173-digit code you were given before the test began.”
My brain is so confuzzled. How am I supposed to remember all this and still, he keeps speaking.
“This test will take a full twenty-four hours. You will only be conscious for four hours, but it will feel like four minutes. This time will give you the chance to answer about four questions max, on average. If you clear your challenge in less than twenty-four hours, you will face your fears for a longer period of time, but the longer you take to clear it, the harder it will become to face your fears. Whatever you do, do not lie about what you experienced. Our system is programmed with an ultra-advanced lie detector with an accuracy rate of almost one-hundred percent, so if you try to play us, you will be caught.” He ends with a smile.
Now I’m terrified. Why are they doing this? What is this school training us to become?
“Any questions?” he asks.
No one dares ask anything.
“Okay, class is dismissed.”
We don’t have to do it right now? I can feel the tension in the room melt.
“For the rest of the week, each of you will come here and take your test according to the call time on these sheets.”
The tension instantly returns. I look at my sheet; my call time is tomorrow morning at 2 a.m. So soon? But maybe sooner is better, less time to freak out.
We begin to walk out.
Pesh’s back is turned and focused on entering something on a screen. “Shantavia Lerogaski. My office.”
My heart drops. What is he calling me to his office? I don’t think I did anything wrong this time. I can’t afford to get into any more trouble. I turn in haste, my mouth opening to respond, but he’s gone. Scampering through the map in my files, I find the location of his office.
The door opens automatically upon my appearance. I look around at the ornate architecture to see a map of Italy, then suddenly, I notice a black leather seat with gold inscriptions. I see Pesh, his back turned, broad shoulders elevated, and hands wide apart.
“Have a seat,” he says.
I sit, tense, waiting for him to turn. I stare at him, curious on what is about to happen. Slowly, he turns toward me. Instantly, I look down, but I can feel his glare piercing through me.
“For this interview solely, we may make eye contact. Everything we talk about in this room stays in this room. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Patron Pesh.”
My gaze glides up. I can’t help but watch as he strokes his dark hair back, but a single strand of the sun glides down, perfectly matching the incandescence of his golden eyes.
I almost didn’t notice he had those highlights at first, or are they even highlights?…
“Shantavia Lerogaski. Valedictorian. Recommended by Governor Soladia. Not the best, but not terrible. So, let’s cut to the chase, why did you come to The Commons?”
“Uhm…” I try not to flinch. “I’d like to be a great leader in our country, so I want to learn from the greatest leaders to ever exist.”