Tests

“A life that doesn’t have a definite plan is likely to become driftwood”—David Sarnoff—

Jafarr tapped his fingers on the flat key panel as he thought over his test answer, occasionally glancing at the other students who were struggling with the questions on their own computer screens. They worked slowly on the answers, recalling when the last Knarr battle took place, or when the caste system first was instigated on Arras, gripping their hair or gnawing on their knuckles. He gazed back at his blue vis-screen and the glowing words written there. His problem was the opposite. Jafarr knew he could answer any one of these questions correctly without straining to remember one fact. He was only dawdling. It was the only thing he could do since he knew that if he finished earlier than the others the teachers would notice, and if they noticed so would the People’s Military. 

He slowly typed in his answer, imprecisely, inaccurately, and on purpose. Jafarr glanced again about the room.

“You have four minutes to finish your test,” the teacher announced. He glanced at Jafarr’s vis-screen and watched him slowly type out that the Great Head of the Arrassian government was appointed in the year 5008 of the Present Era, two years off the actual date.

“Don’t make it too obvious, young man,” the teacher whispered.

Jafarr looked up then smirked. He erased the answer, placing in the correct date—5006.

The P.M.s were only too proud of that day. All the High Class was. It was a social triumph for them, though to the others in the underground city it seemed merely redundant. The High Class was already in power, monopolizing all the businesses and government positions. How much further could they go than they have already gone?

The teacher nodded and continued to encourage the students to finish their tests.

“Input your tests now. Close your files,” the teacher at last called out.

Jafarr quickly typed in the last two answers then sent in his test to the main computer. He closed his file. It was his last class of the day.

Pushing his chair in place, he stood up from his desk and picked up his new homework card and identi-card, placing them both within his jacket pocket. He looked over at his friend, Alzdar, who glanced back with an exhausted expression. A slight laugh escaped Jafarr’s lips, and he walked over to the door.

“And you laugh,” Alzdar muttered. “That was a hard test, you tunneler.”

Jafarr shrugged. “I suppose. I must have missed a fourth of the questions at least.”

“Shut up.” Alzdar said.

“Hey, Al. Where’s Dzhon?” Jafarr asked casually. Their friend was not in class that day.

“He was taking the Adult Test again this morning,” Alzdar replied, scratching his head from his drowsiness. “He said he’d be in for the last two periods, but I guess he didn’t make it.”

Jafarr sighed and walked out the door lazily with his friend, leaning slightly on his Alzdar’s shoulder with his arm. “I guess.”

A large crowd of students gathered in the wide corridor, staring at the vast vis-screen set into the wall. They peered up at their posted scores, glowing ciphers etched vertically within each pixel and ele-node.

“An eighty,” Jafarr read, “Not bad, Alzdar. Average score. That’s safe enough.”

“Safe,” Alzdar huffed, “You and being safe. You managed to give yourself one safe score—eighty-two. If you’d have played it fair you’d have a hundred.”

Jafarr glared at his friend. “Fair and safe don’t work together, Alzdar. Now if you and Dzhon only played it—”

Alzdar’s immediate nudging and pointing interrupted him. Jafarr stopped and turned around. His friend, Dzhon Niizek leaned glumly against the far wall, sulking and folding his arms in a very disagreeable manner, stuffing his fists under his arms.

They walked over from the crowd and approached him.

“So…you fail?” Jafarr asked.

Dzhon looked up sharply with a growl. “Oh, you would be that way.” Standing up though he nearly pounded his fist into the wall, Dzhon said, “No, it’s worse. I almost passed. One point and I’d be an adult.” Then shaking his head in disgust, he said, “No…. The worst of it is that someone else already snagged the youngest adult title. Some girl, and only twelve years old too.”

Dzhon dropped back against the wall.

Jafarr looked at Alzdar and then at their friend with a crooked smile. “Well, now she made herself a target.”

Alzdar rolled his eyes.

Dzhon looked up and said, “No, Jafarr. She’s Surface Patrol. She won’t be a target. She can’t be.” Then with greater force he said, “Roach, if I had been a flymite I might have been able to test right away…maybe pass early.” Then turning to Jafarr, he added, “You might have been able to pass on age instead of pretending to be stupid all the time.”

Jafarr looked around, a little embarrassed, but also to make sure no one heard them. “Don’t be so bold, Dzhon.”

“Don’t be so modest, Jafarr. You could have probably beaten that girl three[1] years ago,” Dzhon said with a great amount of spite.

Jafarr shook his head. “Not technically. Three years ago my voice hadn’t changed yet.”

Alzdar laughed.

Dzhon shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

With a glance down the hall Jafarr motioned for them to leave. “Screen’s off.”

The crowd of students had dispersed from the hall. School was officially let out by then. They had to leave.

The three boys followed the crowd out the main doors into the corridor, just passing the open door to the teachers’ hall. As they walked by, one of the instructors stepped out of the door, looking right at Jafarr. 

Calling to him, he said, “Hey, Zeldar! How’d you do?”

Jafarr turned around. He saw the head history teacher leaning out the door alongside the science instructor. Jafarr seemed to think for a moment, choosing

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 26.02.2018
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7877-5

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