Avant Nation

Chapter 3

ON MONDAY, WHEN I get to school, I see Diamond in the hallway talking to other Ruggeds. Knowing that our days at the academy are numbered, I dwell on how our time together is winding down. My thoughts go back to the day we first met. It was during outdoor recreation. Hearing sobs, I followed them to their source. That's when I discovered this giant of a girl crying behind the willow tree. Another girl had made fun of her pale yellow eyes and patchwork skin. I took Diamond's hand in mine, said that she was gorgeous, like a desert landscape, mysterious and beautiful. For the rest of the year, we were inseparable. That was three years ago. Will our friendship last beyond graduation? I squeeze between the circle of Ruggeds to stand at her side.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Not much," she replies, eyes scanning my new pink duster. "I see you got the  awakening present you wanted."

I twirl around once, "Whaddaya think?"

"If I didn't like men so much, I'd take you right here on the floor."

My snort of laughter is drowned out by the bell. Diamond hurries toward the Rugged wing of the building, and I head to the Compassionate wing. That's how it is-six divisions united under one roof, yet divided-co-mingling only at lunch, recreation and for special activities. After this week is over, the majority of us will go off to start our careers; the separation will be complete and most likely permanent. But we have to get through finals week first.

If only learning new subjects was as easy as it was a few years ago! But once outside the womb, an Avant's ability to learn at an accelerated rate rapidly declines. The ebb is normal and expected. All of my peers have experienced the same thing. It's frustrating to have to push harder than ever to only learn a fraction of the material. Nonetheless, I'm prepared for my finals-at least the academic portion.  It's the psychological exam that has me worried. The possibility of being labeled a Defective lurks in the back of my mind. However, the more probable outcome will be one of two things: either I will continue with my schooling to become a doctor, or I will immediately join the workforce mentoring program.

On Monday, I breeze through my chemistry and anatomy tests. Tuesday covers biology and critical care-pieces of cake. Wednesday is everything else and I slog through question after question until my eyes feel like they're bleeding. But I'm confident my scores are going to be excellent.

On Thursday, I sit before a panel of psychologists and educators in blue robes. There are six examiners in all. They're on one side of the room, shrouded in shadows, while I'm facing them bathed in artificial light, heart pounding in my ears. The first question they throw at me blows my mind.

"You are traveling alone through a woods," a male examiner begins. "There's a gun in your belt. You come to a clearing that absolutely has to be crossed. Going around it is impossible. But much to your surprise, there's a hungry bear standing in the middle of it. What do you do?"

"I'd rethink the assumption that going around the clearing is impossible," I reply.

The examiners turn to each other, murmuring amongst themselves. Instantly, I know that I've crossed some kind of invisible line with my answer. Some of the panel members are inputting data into their EverLinks. Oh, shit. Sweat begins to dribble down my neck.

"Let us pose the question to you in a different way," a woman says. "Same scenario, but the bear sniffs the air, catches your scent and begins to charge straight at you. Remember, going around or going back the way you came is impossible. What would you do?"

I'd shoot it, comes to the top of my tongue. But is that what a true Compassionate would say? I'm not sure. My right leg is involuntarily shaking up and down. I place my hand over my knee in a futile effort to stop it. It occurs to me that they're probably reading my body language as well. Will they be able to tell if I'm lying?