The Truth Within a Lie- Chapter 2 (rewrite)

The double doors slide open at the side of the vast waiting room. Rows and rows of chairs, back to back, with occasional low side tables in between them, cover the floor space of the room. It was designed to accommodate the large crowds of students that come at the end of their city education to test for the military. The few people sitting amongst the mass of chairs are here for the failures, like me, who are trying again to fit the requirements.

As I scan the room for Sierra, I catch a glimpse of her strawberry-blond hair swishing as she looks up from her school tablet, her stylus hovering over the next button. The doors close behind me, making a whooshing sound as they close and blowing strands of hair in my face. Her mouth widens with a hopeful smile. As I push the loose strands back behind my ear, a faint smile creeps onto my face at the sight of my best friend. My only friend. The feeling of relief overcomes the anxiousness that courses through me. I wait for her at the exit doors, watching as she slides the thin tablet and stylus into her messenger bag and practically runs over to meet me.

The reassuring smile appears on her face again, “Ready to go? The ElecTram will be there is five minutes or so.”

“Better hurry. Last time, we cut it close. Aunt Lil nearly called a search and rescue for us,” I add sarcastically.

“The scary thing is,” Sierra says, as a wry smile appears on her face, “I can imagine your aunt pulling something like that.”

“We could run the rest of the way. Just to make sure,” I suggest.

She takes off down the sidewalk without a thought, her hair swaying rhythmically as she jogs ahead. I push forward in order to catch up and my muscles throb once more. Not again, I groan silently. Her head turns to see my progress behind her. Her pace drops so that I fall in line with her. The pace must be easy for her, since she doesn’t seem to even sweat in the heat of the late afternoon. She’s in great condition. After passing the M.T.A’s in the top of her class, a light jog would be simple. For me, however…

The ElecTram Stop comes into view. Sierra notices as I slow down to a walk.

“The Tram won’t arrive for a few minutes,” she says, pointing up to the clock above the station. 5:08. Two more minutes until it arrives. Why on Earth did we run? I resist the urge to say it to her. She seemed to handle the run well enough. I’m exhausted. But there’s no point in complaining. After all, it was my brilliant idea.

I lower myself down on an open bench as the ElecTram speeds into the station, sliding gracefully to a complete stop. The doors of the cars open and a few business people exit the executive cars. Sierra jumps up to secure a spot for us in the line of passengers boarding the Tram. I follow her to our spot in the line, which steadily separates as people go towards different cars. Sierra fumbles through her bag, eventually pulling out her city identification and lets the ID-Reader scan it. Her name appears on the small screen along with her rank, “Premium Citizenship”. She presses the Confirm button and the list of seating options appear.

“I’ll meet you at the Student Car,” Sierra says, “It looks empty, as of right now.”

“Thanks,” I respond gratefully. She must know I’m not feeling especially social tonight. She steps through the Scanners and the gates close behind her.

__________

We each sit in a separate bench seat, guessing that not many people will be riding at this hour. Most people would be at home relaxing or eating. Sierra should be at home with her family, but she came as moral support for me. Which I need desperately. If I’m ever going to get into the military, I’ll need all the support I can

get.

The Tram lurches forward, eventually settling at a more consistent speed. I stare out the window which faces the Business section of the city. Most of the buildings are built underground, with only one or two stories peeking out of the green grass and the rugged granite pathways. People in dark suits and ties shake hands with others they pass on the streets before continuing their march from point A to point B. It all has a rhythm, some distinct pattern that is familiar to me since I’ve seen it almost every day for the past seven years.

“Emma?” Sierra’s voice distracts me from my thoughts. I break my gaze away from the window and look at her questioningly.

“Never mind,” she says loudly, dismissing whatever thought she was about to share. Then, gesturing for me to lean in closer, she whispers in my ear, “How did it go?”

I hesitate. Assessment procedures are not supposed to be discussed, even after the scores are in. Which, of course, has never stopped Sierra and me from doing so. We’re very careful, not talking about it around people who would report us if they had the opportunity. I look around the empty car once more, as if someone could magically board a train going 60 miles an hour. As expected, no new arrivals have teleported in the car.

“It went well?” I respond, my voice lowered to a whisper. People or no people, you never know what places could be bugged.

She clicks her tongue in frustration, the only obvious sound that expresses her frustration, “Any details? Like… how did the written part go?”

I hesitate, realizing at the last second that I was about to repeat myself, “It… all that protocol and rules… I just recall it naturally. That’s never the hard part.”

Her expression urges me to continue.

I speak again, thinking back to the other parts of the test, “The interview was… absolutely terrifying. Still don’t know what the point of that is… It’s almost like they’re trying to get you to confess to something you didn’t do.” The image of sitting in that cold, little room, being questioned like a spy resurfaces in my mind, making me shiver as I shove it away again.

“Yeah,” Sierra says, her eyebrows furrowing as she gives it some thought. Within a few seconds, they return to a resting position and she shrugs, “Maybe it tests your nerves. Sees how you would behave under real-life circumstances.”

The sense of intensity in the room, the furtive looks the ‘interviewer’ gives me as if I might leap across the room and try to escape. Surely, that’s all an act. Sierra’s guess makes perfect sense. But it also makes me question once more if I’m meant to be in the military. Under circumstances in which I have nothing to hide, I panic, my heart pounding so loud that I can practically hear it thudding in my chest. Most likely after some training, they could teach me to control it. Assuming that I ever pass the M.T.A. and get the opportunity train, I add negatively. I lean to the right as we round the corner, the Tram leading us back towards the center of the city. The Outer Ring of New Ridge fades into the darkness behind us. The next Tram station is only minutes away. Sierra hastens to ask me about the last part of the exam, the laps around the track.

“There was this projection. And they called it a Shadow racer.” I explain to her how I raced against it, and how it faded before I passed the finish line. And how I’ll never know if I won or lost. Passing the MTA would be a good indicator, I think.

“It’s hard to say, but I think I improved,” I say, nothing left to say.

Sierra’s mouth widens into a reassuring smile. “I know you made it this time. I can just feel it.” I allow myself to smile a little bit. Her faith in me brightens the hope that I could succeed this time.

The Tram quickly loses momentum and stops at the Tram station. We wait in silence as passengers leave and new ones replace them. I stare out at the Capitol Building in the center of the city. It’s circular in shape, resembling a short bowl of clear glass. A gust of air sweeps into the room as the side door opens. A boy, in a school uniform, stands clutching his backpack in the doorway. Glancing at us awkwardly, but having no other choice where to ride, he takes the nearest seat. The door closes behind him. Sierra looks at me meaningfully. The conversation about the assessment has to end now. I turn towards the window as the Tram goes into motion once more.

This time, I stare out the window as we pass the edge of the Outer Ring of New Ridge. The part of the city is devoted to factories and farmland. In the distance, warehouses dot the vast fields, standing out from its surroundings plainly. The sun sets in the background, casting a cheery glow over the whole scene. The only divide between two very different ways of life is a small, chain-link fence. Probably easy enough to jump over. No guards or extra protection. I’ve often wondered why they don’t leave the factories behind them and come into the city. Maybe they don’t see how they could ever fit in with people who have lived this way for their entire lives. I can see how people could be intimidated by that. All I know for sure is that I could never live in the Outer Ring. Everyone that has ever been great has come from the center of a city.

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“I can’t believe we only have a week or two left here,” Sierra says, looking around at the street as if attempting to remember every detail. I kick at a pebble on the sidewalk thoughtfully, leaving her remark unanswered. We continue in silence for a few more meters, as we both take in her words. Only a few more days left in the place we grew up together. Assuming that I pass the MTA. I may be trapped in New Ridge forever. A nervous laugh escapes her and she starts speaking again, “I’m not sure if I’ll be ready. My parents… Cody… all of them think that I’m completely prepared. I just don’t know.”

“Are you kidding?” I look at her in frustration, “You passed the MTA, without any studying or any preparation at all. And you were one of the highest rankers in New Ridge. If you aren’t ready for this opportunity, I don’t know who is.”

She turns her face away to hide the bright red blush that spreads across her cheeks. “Well, if you say it that way…” she mutters, the pleasure in her words is obvious. She turns back to me and lightly punches me on the shoulder, “You didn’t do to bad yourself.”

I brush her compliments off instantly, “I wouldn’t have to take the assessment if I was good enough. If anyone should wonder if they’re ready to be in the military, it should be me. After all, I’m the one who can’t seem to pass their tests.” I bite my tongue to keep from continuing. I’ve said too much anyway. I’d be turned in to the authorities if I were to add any other complaints.

Sierra adopts a comforting expression. “Well, the government knows what they’re doing. Maybe after school sometime, you and I could swing by the guidance counselor's office. See if she has any ideas?”

“Sounds great,” I say stiffly. I know she means well, but the idea that the government has some specific place they want me to be is a far-off, unrealistic thought. It’s hard for her to see that. In her position, the government provides everything for her family. Her dad owns a shop funded by them in the Shopping Centre and Cody, her brother, is a military prodigy like her. All of their needs are covered. Why would they question their authority? Then, there’s me, who has never been worth much. And yet, she assumes that I would receive the same benefits as her? What would any government want to do with someone like me?