"Children, please settle down." Bringing hundreds of rambunctious children to heel isn't an easy feat. But the person did it with that one sentence. It was a voice that subconsciously commanded respect. For young children used to obeying their parent's instructions, the voice had the same authority as that of their parents.

The man paused, taking a second to survey the assembled children. Like a king looking at his subjects. "My name is Antonius, and I am the head of this facility. Can anyone tell me what this place is?" A moment's silence was broken by a small voice. "A school?" The voice belonged to a kid in one of the front rows. There were several whispers of consent and affirmation among the nervous schoolchildren. "Not quite, but good guess." Antonius replied, smiling. His smile defused some of the palpable tension in the atmosphere. "This is a Test Centre. It is where you will all be assessed based on your abilities, intelligence, and potential. You don't need to know what all those mean for now. This test will determine the school you are assigned to. After you are tested, we will inform your parents of your results. Children, I wish you all the best of luck."

So schools here take the meritocratic route. Interesting. I couldn't be sure, seeing as I'd never gotten a formal schooling, but this at least seemed a better system than the education system on Earth. After all, the law of survival is that might makes right. To stand at the apex means trampling on the dreams of countless others striving for that same pinnacle. The journey doesn't end there, however. Those at the peak must always be wary of those jealously coveting the apex. Wary of people like Jimmy Cron. I again cursed myself for my foolishness. In a way, I couldn't truly blame the man. Before I became the leader of the Vultures, I too had to claw down those in my way. Any one of them could and would do the same to me. But they were unlucky, and I was lucky. Lucky until my luck ran out. To sum it up, I like meritocracy, even if my definition may not be the traditional definition.

While I was extolling the merits of meritocracy, Antonius was explaining the test. A snap of the finger, and a layout of the test centre appeared. I directed my attention back to the man. Scrutinizing the layout, I discovered that the hovering image did not appear to be the product of any visible projector technology. So that's his magic ability? Projection? Antonius, not being a mind reader, paid my thoughts no mind and pointed at the hovering image. "This is the hall where we currently are," he explained. " And these are the test rooms. They are all located on the second floor and above. There will also be a test in the Basement. " As he spoke, the sections he pointed to glowed green, providing a clear visual indication of the various key locations in the test centre.

I quickly scanned the core locations, committing them to memory. I probably had no need to do so, as there will doubtlessly be guides for the schoolchildren who got lost, but it's an old habit from my past life. Understanding the layout of a building holds great significance for a gangster. "What sort of tests will we be taking?" Someone asked. "I'm afraid I can't tell you any details about the test. Just do your best at them, will you? Everything will be explained at the various test rooms. Remember, your results determine your school and, by extension, your future. " Antonius clapped his hands twice. The layout disappeared "Alright, boys and girls. Take a look at the floor." I did. To my surprise, the wooden floor now had a yellow sheen. I glanced around. The floor had changed color, categorizing the assembled children by color according to the rows they were seated by. The children in the front rows were "Red", the children in the middle, including me, were yellow, and the ones seated at the back were green. Color coded, traffic light style. The children who had been silent began talking and pointing excitedly at the floor, excited by the sudden change. Another one of Antonius' tricks? Is the man an illusionist? "Your attention please." Antonius spoke. "Children, those of you under the red group, please follow Ms Swain. Yellow, please follow Mr Byte. Green, follow Madam Nazar. They will be your examiners and guides in this test centre, so please follow them and listen to their instructions. That is all. Examiners, please take charge." Saying so, Antonius strode off the stage, melting into the backstage curtains.

With his disappearance, the examiners took charge. I was shepherded (again) up a flight of stairs. "Here we are. The second floor." Mr Byte explained rather unnecessarily. He waved us through a long corridor with white walls, making sure the candidates were all following along. We stopped in front of a plain yellow door. There was no doorknob, and I briefly wondered how the door would open. Would this world have the electronics like in Earth? After doing a rapid headcount with his fingers, Mr Byte nodded and placed his index finger on a small panel by the side of the door. His fingertips seemed to glow a faint blue , and the door opened. Fingerprint technology? Or magic?

I would love to investigate this new security mechanism, but the opportunity did not present itself. In order to act like an inconspicuous ordinary six year old, I swallowed my criminal curiosity and walked towards the open door.

Humans are said to be able to sense when they're being watched. I found it incredibly useful, so I'd sharpened that sixth sense in my previous life. Someone's watching me. I paused at the doorway, glancing around. For the briefest moment, I locked eyes with Mr Byte. Act casual. Don't arouse suspicion. I smiled at him, then cursed my stupidity as his eyebrows furrowed. Of course. I'm supposed to be a six year old taking an exam. I should be nervous, not smiling. It was a definite mistake, but not an unsalvageable one. Thinking fast, I pointed at the fingerprint scanner (?) and vocalized in my best curious but annoying six year old voice, "Teeaacher! What's that!"

The examiner glanced at the fingerprint scanner and chose to grunt. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now move and stop blocking the doorway for the other kids." I nodded and walked in, but my sixth sense was still active.

Guess he's still suspicious of me.

The room was exactly how I expected a classroom to be like --- rows of long tables and chairs, one designated for each child. A lecturer's podium stood at the front of the class, and behind it was a big screen. Mr Byte ushered all the children to their seats. As I made to seat down, I noticed a squarish metallic box on the table, connected to what seemed to be a controller with buttons. The device was again designated for every child. No way, I thought. While the box wasn't congruent in design, the resemblance was still striking. A computer? On Hearth? Just who invented that? And is it a household objects? I certainly haven't seen it in my house. Judging from the curious and novel expressions of the other schoolchildren, neither had they. One of the children gave the box a poke, then retracted his hand as if the device might explode. Okay, I think it's safe to say that it's probably one of those limited technologies jealously guarded by the elites on Hearth. I'd long suspected this, but if the gadget was indeed a computer, then perhaps there are others like me --- people who died on Earth, experienced some divine intervention, and ended up here on Hearth, free to propagate the science and technology of Earth. Other reincarnators.

This could be troublesome...