Independent Study (15 page)

“Easy?” Damone shoots Will a withering look. “Have you been inside the Central Government Building? It’ll take a miracle to find anything in there.”

I hate to think it, but as we walk toward the Central Government Building, I realize Damone’s right. The United Commonwealth Government was officially created a hundred years ago in a large structure that sits on the east bank of the river. Two stories tall with circular walls and a low-domed roof, the building has a short but sturdy design that helped it survive the worst of the natural disasters with little more than a few broken windows. The lack of damage and the large rooms that can accommodate thousands of people made it an ideal site for the survivors of the war beginning to lay the foundation for a new country.

It is hard to imagine those first days when the earth quieted and people began to assess the damage. Corrupted rivers that caused illness or worse. Destroyed homes and a ground too contaminated for many plants to grow. A world filled with sorrow and fear. Instead of pulling closed the doors and cowering in the dark, people gathered here to pool their resources and restore hope.

I glance at the large square building on the land just north of the Central Government Building. Now named Tosu City Hospital and Medical Research Center. I don’t know what it was called then, but it was used as safe living spaces for those without homes or those too old, young, or terrified to be alone. An enclosed walkway allowed people to pass safely between the two structures without having to brave the chemical- and radiation-laced elements.

Leaders were elected. Laws made. Crews organized and sent outside to evaluate the city. Canned food was gathered and rationed. The dead found inside were buried in a crevice opened by an earthquake on the west side of the city. A group was formed to scout around the city for signs of still-living plants, animals, and people. Water was boiled and filtered. Even then, drinking the water made people sick, which prompted leaders to send the surviving scientists to the University labs. The scientists used the equipment there to run tests on the river, hoping to discover a way to make it pure once again.

One by one, buildings were repaired and deemed safe. Families left the safety of living with the entire community and moved into their own dwellings. Scientists found plants, like clover, that thrived in the damaged soil and began splicing their genes into less hardy vegetation. With hope, organization, and care, the world came alive again.

And it all started here.

People mill in the courtyard or stand talking in small groups. A hundred feet from our position is a small flight of stairs that leads to the entrance of the beige stone building. On either side of a fountain is a tall silver pole. At the top of each is a flag. The red, white, and blue one from the past that will never be forgotten and the other, displaying a stark white background trimmed with purple. In the center of the field of white is a single crimson rose. White to symbolize hope and purity of purpose. Purple for courage. The red petals of the flower signify the promise of a people determined to make the rose and the rest of the country thrive. I can’t help but wonder how The Testing was allowed to grow from that promise. Did those who conceived of it intend for the price of failure to be so high? How many people walking the halls of this building know the true nature of The Testing? How many more have feigned deafness because they don’t want to hear and recognize what, by ignorance, they condone?

We walk up the steps, and I glance over my shoulder to look for the other teams. None are in sight as we step into a room buzzing with activity. The antechamber is filled with people. Large white panels hanging from the two-story ceiling bask the room in light. On the wall to the right is a mural of the colonies and boundaries of the current United Commonwealth. Directly in front of us are two large sets of doors that lead to the Debate Chamber.

“Where do we start looking?” Enzo asks. “The observation gallery? The offices?”

Will frowns. “Cia and I came here for orientation a couple months ago. I don’t remember seeing anything with scales on it. Then again, we only went through about half the rooms in the building.”

“We should split up,” Damone suggests.

I have only to think about Damone’s desire to leave me locked in that box to reject his idea. “We should stay together. Otherwise, we’ll spend even more time trying to reconnect with one another.”

Damone gives me a flat stare. “Fine. You’re the captain. You tell us how we’re going to search hundreds of rooms and find the scales before the next team does.”

“I don’t know,” I admit, but my desire to outthink Damone has me determined to find out.

Our orientation leader said the building contained almost two hundred thousand square feet of offices, meeting rooms, and discussion chambers. Searching through them all could take days.

“We’re wasting time. Can someone make a decision already? Or is talking all they taught you how to do in the colonies?” Damone scowls at me and Will.

Will glares back. “At least they taught us something. The only reason you’re here is because your father is a hotshot Commonwealth official. I bet he knows where the scales symbol is in this place. Too bad he isn’t here to ask. Instead, we’re stuck with you.”

Damone moves fast. Before I realize what’s happening, he pushes Will back toward the wall behind us. I see shock register on Will’s face a moment before he slams into the hard surface. Will grabs Damone’s shoulders and shoves, sending Damone staggering back. I race in between the two, hoping to talk some sense into them before we get thrown out of the building or worse.

“Stop,” I snap, trying to mimic the tone my mother uses on my brothers when they are fighting. “Unless you’re hoping to impress the government officials with your right hooks, I think we should find what we came here to do. After that, the two of you can beat each other senseless for all I care. Okay?”

I wait for Will or Damone to object. Neither does.

“Good.” I push hair off my forehead and take a deep breath. “Now, maybe we can get back to solving this task.”

“Well, according to Will, we’re not smart enough to figure it out on our own,” Damone sneers.

“That’s not what I said.”

This time Enzo steps in to keep the peace, and I let him because Will and Damone have given me an idea. The clue did not say we had to find the scales on our own. While Damone’s father isn’t here for us to ask, there are dozens if not hundreds of government officials who work in this building every day. Some of them must know where the symbol of the scales of justice is. We just have to ask.

I approach a lady sitting in nearby a room with a glass window. When she sees me looking in her direction, her lips curve into a sympathetic smile. Taking that as a positive sign, I leave the boys behind and walk over.

The woman slides open a panel of glass. “Can I be of assistance?” Her eyes shift behind me; she no doubt wonders if the help I need is with my unkempt, ill-mannered companions.

“I’m hoping you know where I can find a picture or sign or statue with balanced scales depicted on it. There’s supposed to be one somewhere inside this building.”

With a nod, she says, “If you go through those doors there, I believe you will find a small rendering of that symbol on the back of the moderating justice’s chair.”

She points to the double doors situated between the two maps. The doors that lead into the Debate Chamber. Next to the door is a sign that lists the discussion and voting schedule for the day. I look down at the watch strapped to my bag. The Debate Chamber session is almost over. Once it ends, the chamber doors will be locked until the debate floor opens again—at nine o’clock in the morning. Unless we can convince someone to unlock the doors for us, we will have to wait to search the chamber during one of the session breaks tomorrow.

Or will we? I think back to the second line of the clue.
Look for the symbol of the house you now live in and find what you seek upon its perch
. If an image of balanced scales is on a chair, then what we seek isn’t going to be waiting for us when the chamber is empty. It’s what is at this very moment seated on that chair.

The moderating justice—President Anneline L. Collindar.

I
THANK THE
woman for her help and walk toward the double doors. In my head, I try to picture what I saw the time I was here. Up front is a raised platform. A podium and chair in the center for the moderating justice, who leads the discourse. A desk and another chair for the assistant moderator, who records the proceedings. Seats and desks on the main floor for representatives of the ten departments of the government. More seats in the balcony for those who want to observe or, in some cases, add their opinions to the discussion. When we were here with our orientation instructor, most of the seats in the balcony were empty. Citizens were too busy with their jobs, homes, and children to care what change to the law was being made.

When I pull back the heavy doors and step inside, I hear murmuring somewhere overhead that tells me today at least some of the seats in the balcony are occupied. So is the debate floor. All ten department leaders are required to send two delegates to represent their interests on the debate floor. When I was last here, the requisite twenty were in attendance. Today there are at least twice as many listening to a speaker explain the need for more textile production.

My teammates join me in the open doorway.

“What are you doing?” Damone growls. “You’re not allowed on the Debate Chamber floor when the council is in session.”

“The next clue is in here,” I whisper.

“Where?” Will asks.

Taking a deep breath, I point to where the leader of our country sits with an unreadable expression on her face. “There.”

“Are you crazy?” Damone asks. “You can’t go up there. You’ll get us thrown out of the University and detained, or worse.”

He’s right. Our orientation instructor reminded us that detainment is the penalty for stepping uninvited onto the Debate Chamber floor. Doing so is construed as a threat against the president and the Commonwealth Government. The penalty was instituted during the early days when the fatigue and frustration of nongovernment citizens boiled over and resulted in injuries and, on one occasion, death.

Enzo nods. “If the next task is up there, we’ll find it when the session is over. We just have to wait.”

The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that waiting will do us no good. Thus far, each of the tasks set for us by the final years has tested specific skills. Mathematics. History. Mechanical knowledge. But in addition to classroom-learned knowledge, the tests have measured something more. They have judged our ability to work under pressure. To trust one another. To listen to instructions and critically think through problems. Successful government officials do all these things, but the best of them do more. They follow their instincts and figure out a way to do what needs to be done.

I count four men and two women dressed in black and standing near the stairs on either side of the raised platform. The wide white band on each of their right arms identifies them as Safety officials. The weapons at their sides and the respect our country’s citizens have for the work done here have ensured that no unauthorized person has set foot on the Debate Chamber floor for decades.

Since I can’t walk onto the floor without risking detainment, I have to find another way.

“Cia,” Will hisses, “we have to wait outside until the session ends.”

Damone, Enzo, and Will take a step backward, but I stay put. This session will last a half hour more. Then the room will be locked until morning. Damone might be able to convince one of his father’s friends to open the doors and let us search, but there is a chance that the president has to be seated on the platform for us to complete the task. Waiting will not help us. There has to be a second option. But what?

Ignoring the stares from officials on the debate floor and the insistent whispers from my teammates, I glance around the room for a solution. My mother always told me the best way to solve a problem is to ask for help. But while that worked the first time, I doubt the woman in the lobby will be able to assist me in this next step even if she knows what it is. The officials on the debate floor might be able to provide an answer, but unless I want to yell across the massive room, I—

Wait.

I close my eyes and think back to my Five Lakes classroom. Sitting in my seat behind Tomas. Listening to our teacher as she discussed the creation of this room. The founding government officials chose this space to house the Debate Chamber because they wanted a room large enough to house not only the governing body but those citizens who wanted to voice their concerns. In the early years of the Commonwealth, the debate floor was filled with people who wanted a voice in the reconstruction of our country. During the last several decades, no ordinary citizen has stepped onto the Debate Chamber floor. They’ve been too busy with their own lives to take responsibility for the government and the country. But just because no one in recent years has chosen to use that privilege doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist. At the end of that lesson, my teacher mentioned an antiquated law that said any citizen may request a hearing on the Debate Chamber floor. We were never tested on that law or the wording required to gain access to the Chamber. At the time I was relieved. Not anymore.

It takes me several minutes to locate the thin, dark cord that hangs far to the left of the entryway in a dimly lit alcove. The cord is coated with dust, but when I tug, the gong of the hearing bell echoes through the room. One by one, the people on the floor shift their attention from the speaker to me. The man’s words falter. The Safety officials’ hands move to the weapons holstered at their sides, but they do not draw. Not yet. I can hear the surprise in the hushed whispers from the gallery above.

Part of me wants to withdraw. To avoid such attention. But the law states any citizen who rings the bell and follows protocol will be invited onto the chamber floor. While I am young and unimportant to the working of the Commonwealth, I am a citizen. The law gives me this right.