Leo

Sure, the test was over, but as expected there were consequences. Leo wasn’t all that concerned; by not letting a single student fail, he’d had his chance to laugh in the Educators’ faces. He leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, queued against the wall outside of a nondescript meeting room, and rested his hands on his head.

It wasn’t just him, of course. All six of his acquaintances had been summoned via personal message. He wasn’t sure what message was given to the other students, but it was probably better than his ominous, “Your presence is expected at the Ohm Suite.” Not demanded or required, just expected. Like the decision to be there was entirely his choice. Honestly, who would say no when the message’s tone suggested that they absolutely should obey?

And now he waited. Bored. In silence. It was insufferable.

“So,” Leo began. “That went better than expected.”

“I guess,” said Alan from beside him. His blazer was unbuttoned and his shirt had a tear in it which he exposed to the sun. His head was stuck in his meus. “But isn’t it normal for everyone to pass a test? Should be only a couple people that fail.”

“But that test was really hard!” Tock cried. A radical strand of hair dipped in front of her eye and she swiped it away. “If we’d messed up even a little we could have all failed.”

“The result was… pretty good,” said Raphael. One of the buttons of his jacket had come off from his fight.

“I never doubted any of you,” Lumia chimed. Her tabula rasa was tacky and covered in dark patches of sweat. “You all did a wonderful job!”

“Yeah, and pigs can fly!” Tock said.

Lumia turned to Tock. “A what, sorry?”

Tock opened her mouth then snapped it shut. She folded her arms and leaned back, making herself small. “Never mind.” Leo wouldn’t have bothered explaining either: most species of livestock had gone extinct on the surface. They only lived up here on Plato.

Leo cracked a smile. Honestly, now that they had a chance to just talk, he found his five classmates to be, well, entertaining. A thought occurred to him. “Hey, how did so many people get released at the last minute? Was everyone just slow or what?”

Raphael spoke up. “We, er, had a dedicated team of helpers. We found out that you can answer other students’ questions from your own terminal so we spent the whole time doing that. Once we got to the end, a lot of students only had a couple of questions left.”

“Woah,” Leo said. “How many did you guys answer?”

“Er, maybe two hundred. Between us—not just me.”

“Logic!” Alan commended.

Lumia gestured to her side. “Also, don’t forget to thank Morgan for changing the rules on your terminal, Leo.”

As she spoke, the whine of an open-mouthed snore permeated the air. Morgan lay fast asleep. Her hands rested loosely around her stomach and her head tilted slightly towards Lumia.

Leo leaned forward and gawked. “Hey, what happened to her?”

“Plenty of things!” Lumia said with a smile. “She guided the class through the test, developed multiple strategies for passing, and kept everyone focused, all the while struggling with fatigue.”

Though Morgan’s eyes were still closed, her snoring had stopped. Leo was certain she’d heard.

“Wow,” said Leo. He turned to Raphael. “Hey, you got into a fight. What was that about?”

Raphael glanced up at Leo with a haunted expression, then fixed his gaze on the ground. He gave no response.

At that second, the door to the meeting room opened. They all perked up, including Morgan, who straightened up in her chair and looked as though she hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes dozing.

The Educator glared at them with eyes that needed far more sleep. It was a look that every student recognised, a warning that they should be on their best behaviour or else. Then his gaze settled on Leo and hardened.

“You’re first, Leo,” he spoke in a gruff voice.

The students turned to him with concerned expressions. Leo shrugged.

Don’t pity me. You’re next.

Leo slouched in his chair, intentionally. A panopticon of Educators surrounded him—okay, it was only three, and they were in front of him. Still, their occasional glances up from their tablets made him feel like his every action was on trial. All the more reason to appear disinterested.

“Good test,” Leo said, needing to break up the silence. “I liked the part where you nearly failed everyone.”

An Educator with bags under his eyes considered him. “Leo, I’ll be frank. I’m rather disappointed with you.”

“Oh, good to know you once had hopes for me.”

The Educator narrowed his eyes. “You ran away from the class without explaining yourself despite being fluent in sign language, you used your twenty unlocks in a nonstrategic manner—”

“I gave them a message!” Leo refuted.

“Then you broke open the switchboard and turned all the lights off while screaming, ‘Eff your test, eff your rules, but most importantly, eff this school!’”

Leo shrugged. “I was just using everything at my disposal.” What did they expect was going to happen? It was literally the only thing he could do. And the swearing was completely necessary.

“The switchboard wasn’t part of the test.”

“Ah.”

“You then sat down and played with your personal terminal while your classmates were begging you to turn the lights back on.” The Educator carefully placed his terminal flat on the desk. “Do you want to explain your actions?”

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Leo thought for a few seconds then pried himself forward. “Hey, Educator, er, coffee pot.”

“Arthur.”

“Arthur.”

“Educator Author.”

“Yeah,” Leo scoffed. “Have you ever been locked in a prison?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “No, but neither have you.”

Leo fixed him with a hard stare. “I’ve seen enough.”

Arthur adjusted his position. “Student Leo, I’m going to give you one more chance to explain your actions.”

Leo folded his arms. “You have my profile. What did you think was going to happen when you brought me here? That I was going to be a typical, well-behaved student?” They locked eyes, both refusing to say anything. The silence lasted a full minute before Leo couldn’t take it anymore.

“So when were you planning on throwing me off the Edge?”

Arthur fixed his gaze on his terminal. “We weren’t, but I have half a mind to.”

Of course you do, you damn Isolationists.

Leo exhaled sharply. “So what’s happening to everyone else?”

Raphael

The chair in the centre of the debriefing room remained vacated. Raphael had not been asked to sit, after all. Nor to be at ease. Instead, he stood beside the chair with a fist over his heart.

The Educators eyed him awkwardly, and that made Raphael feel awkward himself. He was becoming painfully aware of how his natural response, to salute before being seated, had been the wrong one. The problem was he had already been standing there for ten seconds, so stopping now would be even more awkward.

“Raphael,” said the Educator on the right. It was a tall woman with blonde hair tied in a bun, and the saddest eyes Raphael had ever seen. “The purpose of King’s College is to teach and learn. You don’t need to salute the Educators.”

Slowly Raphael lowered his hand then placed himself in the chair. He sat straight with his chin up and his face expressionless, though his burning cheeks ruined the image (illusion) of confidence.

“Raphael,” said the Educator in the middle, the tired looking one. His tone was harsh and inquisitorial.

“Yes, Educator?” he replied stiffly.

“Why did you strike another student?”

There was a lump in Raphael’s throat. He didn’t know what to say that would be reasonable yet wouldn’t betray his allies. Though he was expected not to lie to his superiors, there was an unspoken rule amongst trainees at Augustus’ that you were to never rat out another trainee. Eventually he came up with an answer.

“He was harassing other students, Educator.”

“You mean Morgan.”

“Er, yes, in particular, Educator.”

“Does that justify your actions?”

“I—no, Educator.”

“Are you saying that just to agree with me?”

He was. This line of questioning was completely unfamiliar to him. All of these eyes on him, picking apart his reasons like they were trying to get in. They shouldn’t be trying to get in. That wasn’t polite (allowed).

Fortunately, the Educator moved on from that line of questioning before Raphael answered. The next question wasn’t much better.

“Student Raphael. During the test, you spent twenty-seven percent of your time at your desk, answering questions. Your classmates required you to assist in other ways. Were you aware of their needs?”

“No, Educator.” He was.

“Did you ignore them?”

“No, Educator. I wasn’t aware, Educator,” he lied.

The Educator glared at him with a look that said he knew that Raphael was lying. Raphael swallowed. It was too difficult to look into the Educator’s eyes, so he fixed his sight just above the Educator’s head and let his vision lose focus.

“When you placed your meus back in your desk, were you aware of the risks of doing so?”

“Yes, Educator.”

“And you did it anyway?”

“Yes, Educator.”

“Why not have another student do it?”

Raphael licked his lips. “I’m sorry, Educator?”

“Put simply,” the Educator looked down at his tablet. “Your role in that test was of higher importance than the other students’. Wouldn’t it have been safer to order a less helpful student to sit down at a desk?”

“I don’t think it’s right to risk another student for my sake, Educator.”

The Educator drummed his fingers on the desk. Raphael fixated on it. “Where does the general lead? From the back or the front?”

“The back, Educator,” Raphael said resignedly.

“So you should have instructed another student to sit down.”

“I—I couldn’t. There was no way to communicate that, Educator.”

“Nobody else knew sign language?”

“Not as well as I, Educator.”

“Not enough to be instructed to sit?”

Raphael said nothing. Though he hadn’t thought of the idea, Raphael would never have made that decision to begin with, so he still felt guilty. At the time, he’d taken a seat to escape the drama. The arguing and heavy expectations of his peers had been overwhelming, and he wanted only to zone it out (go away).

“Student Raphael,” the Educator said more casually, though his tone implied that no nonsense would be tolerated. “Do you think it’s acceptable to lie?”

Raphael fixed him with a rigid stare. This question he was confident in answering. “I do, Educator. It’s acceptable to lie when protecting someone else.” And that was the cause of his guilt.

Lumia

Lumia was rather accustomed to being observed. When she had taken her final Ascension tests, there were eight people monitoring her for cheating, and before she arrived in Plato people always stared at her. Their reasons were not always benevolent, however. Lecherous, would be the word she’d use.

“Student Lumia,” spoke Educator Arthur in that grizzled tone of his.

Lumia perked up. “Mhm?”

“What did you see on your terminal after you finished the test?”

“Oh, I believe there was a message.” She caught her tongue before she recited it. Judging from Educator Arthur’s tone and the current trajectory of the conversation, Lumia figured she was about to be admonished. It was best to play the fool. “But unfortunately, I cannot remember what it said.”

The other Educators all shared a baffled look. Lumia wore a similar expression, hoping it would throw them off.

Educator Arthur turned to her. “Student Lumia, your Ascension tests showed that you have a remarkable memory, almost rivalling that of some of Plato’s best AIs. In this test, we planted several clues that we believed would be easily memorable for you. Are you suggesting that our previous assessments of your mental faculties, along with your own testimonies, are somehow wrong?”

Of course not! She remembered every word of that message: The signal that oscillates faster than the rest can transmit more often but is heard once at best. It was a lovely poem! The only problem was that, at the time, she had thought it to be some kind of reward: a King’s College gift for those who finished so soon. Lumia realised her mistake now, one she had made in ignorance. However, it was too late to admit fault. She doubled down on the lie.

“Oh, not at all! Today is simply quite unique. I’m a little too fatigued so my mind, it tends to leak. It’s easy to forget a message that is so oblique.”

All the Educators gazed at her in astonishment. One of the Educators, a man who was rather dashing, in a lazy sort of way, edged towards Arthur. He whispered, “Hey, does she always talk like that?” Lumia’s cheeks reddened.

“According to her file, usually when she’s nervous,” Educator Arthur answered. “Or when she’s lying.”

Lumia’s whole body tensed up. Her hands were clasped and he squeezed them tightly as she could to stop them from trembling. Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why did you have to lie? Why did you think you could fool them? This isn’t Glassfall, it’s Plato, and everyone here is smarter than you!

“There was another issue with your behaviour during the test,” Educator Arthur continued. “For most of the test you were indolent. You either watched from the side or you interacted with other students while doing nothing of value. In the time you spent idling, don’t you think you could have helped answer questions?”

Lumia stared into her lap. “I’m so sorry.”

Well, she wasn’t, really. The greatest problem they faced in the test was disobedience. It was necessary to curtail the behaviour of certain students because every time Lumia looked away, they would talk again. Then when other students saw their peers speaking, they would follow suit thinking that it was okay. It just so happened that punching a student was the most effective way to silence the rest of them, thereby rendering all of her methods moot. If only Raphael had done that sooner!

“Do you want to explain?” said Educator Arthur.

Lumia bit her lip. “I didn’t want to overstep my place.”

And actually, that was the truth. She was a stranger in a strange place. If she had done too much she would have come off as overbearing. It was better to stay in her frame and only act when asked to. Her decision to passively encourage other students from behind was based almost entirely upon this truth. Almost.

Educator Arthur went on. “And because of that decision, you were unable to perform at your maximum capacity.”

“I’m sorry, Educator Arthur.”

“Student Lumia.” He fixed her with a hard stare. “Let’s talk about your sister.”

Lumia wished that the room had been painted white, so that way she might have camouflaged herself against the wall, pale as she had gone.