Chapter 2 #2
*Previous cosmetic removal attempts have proven unsuccessful.
The picture also showed that my hair fell to my chest in loose corkscrew curls and that my brows were probably too close together. I could also make out the top half of the birthmark jutting up from beneath my ribbed tank top.
“Confirm.”
“What is your father’s current status?”
Had to hold back the eye-roll on that one.
No idea.
“Classified,” I replied, despite not knowing if that was still the case. This question wasn’t pertinent to the results I wanted anyway.
The last time I had spoken to him—about 10 years ago now— Rui Xi Chen was working as the Financial Chief of Visex.
That’s when he first shipped me off to Mr. Julio Mexitellin’s custody to make sure that I could stay in Babel without my own father having to bother with the mundane ups and downs of a teenager’s existence.
That was classified enough, right?
“What is your mother’s current status?”
This time, it was a growl I had to hold back.
“Deceased.”
Kinda sick that they made me confirm that.
Lillemore Chapman, the travesty of a woman who first mixed bloodlines and then got caught in an affair with the President, had tragically taken her own life when I was eight years old. According to all public records, that’s the whole story.
My mom was a slut who tried to ruin a marriage and possibly an entire society. That was the rest of the story.
“Please stand by for Administrator clarification.”
“Sure,” I murmured politely.
In about ten minutes, some overpaid clown hiding behind the Parthenon server had taken the time to confirm my tragic backstory and informed the somehow still-faulty AI that I was indeed telling the truth.
“The academic portion of the exam will begin now,” the female voice finally announced.
I answered this section quickly and correctly.
I had finished at the top of my class at Babel, proving how deserving I was of that scholarship, and had no trouble calculating limits and solving quadratic equations.
I knew every bone, muscle, and organ in the human body as well as those of the extinct ‘dog’ and ‘cat’ that once roamed the now-obliterated planet Earth.
The history section was my opportunity to prove I was well-versed in how our brave founding families—twelve overly wealthy jerks with a legacy kink—built The Tower as an indestructible bunker before blowing up the war-torn world as we knew it and leaving behind nothing but the Void with The Tower drifting through it for the rest of eternity.
“Do you need a break before we begin the social-emotional portion of the exam?”
I almost scoffed.
Pretty sure my family background was the social-emotional test.
I glanced at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the screen. I’d been at it for more than two hours.
I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth and clenched my thighs while repositioning in my chair. It was best to wait for breaks until you truly needed them. Stamina mattered.
“No. Please continue.”
“What is the most important goal you have set for this next part of your life?”
“I want to ascend to the top of The Tower like everyone else wants. I want to prove my worth.”
The last bit was a lie. I didn’t care about proving anything.
I did want to get to the top, though. I wanted to get to the very tippy top, where I would decapitate Azazel Ofer—the President—and waltz into the High Council Chamber with his head on a platter so that the hungry vultures would have something to chew on other than the daughter of the woman Azazel killed to save his own hide.
Imagine if the world leader had taken responsibility for his part in the affair and not used the that-woman-is-a-crazy-blood-line-mixer card?
Yeah, never gonna happen.
That was why I had to take vengeance into my own hands. It was the only way to ensure justice for someone like him. Someone with power.
Relax your shoulders.
My traps had gone hard as steel, and my jaw burned with the ache of grinding my teeth.
“How do you feel that you have handled the loss of your mother at such a young age?”
I recited the following line with a practiced tone.
“Lillemore Chapman suffered from depression. I have learned from her mistakes and take much better care of my mental health.”
“How do you feel about the limited options for you in marrying as a Mixed-Lineage Citizen?”
With only 142 other Mixed-Lineage Citizens from whom I could choose, I’d long given up on the idea of marriage. Even more than that, I’d given up on the idea of sex before I’d even hit puberty because one small mistake, and I was getting myself and someone else a one-way ticket to the Void.
Mixing two bloodlines was disgusting, but three or more would be seen as treason.
“I have no desire for marriage.”
The mere mention of my getting involved in a relationship often had a dampening effect on my underarms, but, as I said, I was prepared for this exam.
Dry as a desert.
“What if Zade Bloomberg proposed?”
My chest might have gotten heavier for a half-second, but then I let out a laugh. Still didn’t manage to stop the wet heat burgeoning in all the tight corners.
“Zade isn’t interested in me like that. Even if he were, I could never be attracted to someone who doesn’t shoot better than I do.”
And no one shoots better than I do.
Had I ever had the fleeting thought of being in a relationship with the owner of the archery range?
Sure.
Hormones did that.
Zade and I had been friends since the first summer I’d come under Julio’s care.
Back then, we spent every day of summer running through the alleyways, snatching what we wanted and sharing it with other kids like us.
Eventually, we had the know-how to sneak into L-lifts and visit each other after sneaking out of our respective prisons.
Late nights under synthetic stars.
But tainting the Bloomberg bloodline would never get me close to Azazel.
It would only put more obstacles in my way, like imprisonment or banishment. Besides, considering how many girls he went through in a month, it wasn’t easy to imagine him ever trying to settle down seriously.
And me.
Even without the dual-blood problem, I didn’t have time blocked off for pleasure. I had a goal.
“What are your thoughts on your current social life?”
What social life?
I started tapping my thigh with my finger. I was pacing my responses but aiming for the appearance of boredom.
“I’ve been busy with studying, so I’m hoping to spend more time socializing and relaxing now that I’m done with Babel.”
I mean, I wasn’t completely friendless.
There was Zade.
And Yu Ting and Barrister.
They count as friends if I spend as much time with them as I do, right?
I mean, sure, it was their job to spend time with me while I was at the range, but they liked me a little bit.
And there were my roommates. Astrid and I were definitely friends of some sort.
Frenemies?
Lailani and I sometimes said hi to each other.
And that new roommate whose name I couldn't remember seemed nice.
After another three hours of way-too-personal inquiries, I was asked again if I needed a break.
“I need to use the bathroom. I’ll resume in five minutes.”
I exited Room 909 and passed about ten other similar sliding doors that separated me from my Babel cohort, blessed with their own exam appointments today, until I reached the restroom at the end of the hall. The interior of the washroom was just as stoic as in any other Administration building.
Neutral colors, straight lines with sleek curves. Sterile.
I’d started counting from the moment I left the exam room and timed the entire excursion to make sure that I entered Room 909 exactly 4 minutes and 38 seconds later. Everything was a test here.
“Welcome back, Eliana. Please proceed through the door to the physical examination.”
In the wall beside the monitor, a doorway appeared where nanos in the structure of The Tower shifted at the command of the brilliant AI system, Parthenon.
Through the brown door, I found a gray room where seven stations tested every possible physical output the human body was capable of.
For speed, endurance, and VO2 Max, I chose running, and of course, gave an impressive performance.
For vision, concentration, and fine motor skills, I selected archery.
“Please remember that weapons such as the bow and arrow are only to be used in sport as there is no danger in The Tower that requires violence. Our capable Moderators will handle anyone who presents a danger.”
I had heard that warning since I’d first picked up the bow at 12 and responded as usual to confirm compliance.
“Understood.”
I raised the bow with one hand on the riser and the other drawing back the nock of the arrow along with the string.
Aim.
Release.
Bullseye.
The following five stations proved nearly as easy.
Okay, the last obstacle requiring me to jump from a height roughly twice my own had me ready to hurl, even with the promise of the net there to catch me.
I swallowed the threat of vomit like a champion, but did need a minute before I finally scrambled off the net and onto the steady platform, not threatening to give way and drop me into the Void.
If I could have shown a weakness in any other way, I wouldn’t have chosen the jump. At least I could save it for last. Well, almost last. I still had to walk back through the winding corridor to Room 909 to complete the confirmation.
Wiping the last drop of sweat from my brow, I stepped into the first room again—the sour taste in my mouth paling in comparison to that of victory.
The Proctor’s voice greeted me with, “It is time for your final question. The following is a control question only and will not reflect your placement results.”
I let out a weak, “Understood,” and swallowed back my stomach’s last-ditch effort to expel itself as punishment for my putting it through something so horrifying. Well, horrifying for those with a fear of heights above two feet off the ground.
Dramatic much, digestive system?
“Please choose between the following two items.”
The monitor displayed two words:
Love | Knowledge
“Knowledge,” I answered.
No hesitation needed.
It was the one thing I agreed with the Administration on. Knowledge was absolute, tangible, achievable, and beneficial. Love was the opposite of all that.
The screen blinked black, and the Proctor’s voice started again, but this time with the slightest catch at the end of each word.
Or that was all in my head because I was done!
“Your-r results-s will-l be-e released-d to-o your-r domicile-le once-ce they-ey are-re done-ne processing-g. Please-se consult-t your-r local-l Administration-n if-f you-ou have-ve concerns-s or-r questions-s. Enjoy-y your-r Graduation-n Ceremony-y, Eliana.”
I clapped my hands together to make sure they could note my relief and excitement, emotions I didn’t need to fake this time.
The glass doors to my exam room opened, and I checked my Visex on the way into the elevator. I had approximately 17 minutes to get up to the 604,372nd floor to Nian’s or lose a job I probably wouldn’t need by the end of the summer. No time for paranoia now.