In distant history, students would change majors multiple times on their journey toward graduation. In attempt to revise this system, the First Council assigned careers. Now, the Council has offered a streamlined process of career selection which will eliminate uncertainty while also providing choice. Seniors in high school will be tested through multiple physical and mental examinations both alone and cooperatively. At the end of this competition, scouts from each Trade School will offer students of their choice a position at their school. The first Recruitment will be held this weekend, and scouts from the Medical, Peacekeeping, Research, Engineering, Sports, Arts, Industrial, and Drone Schools will be present. More Schools are expected to join over the coming years. – Dale Schuman 572 Anno Imperii Ortu

I fall into my seat in homeroom, silently judging the students around me for their various conversations. Recruitment is the word on everyone’s tongue, but the tone it carries is unique to each voice. For some, it’s exciting. This is the day Class II’s have been waiting for – their chance to shine. The V’s hold fear, concerned that their power won’t impress a good school.

Carefully, I absorb all of their words. I have learned to use people’s confidence against them. If one lets a plan slip or brags about the extent of their power, I may be able to use that to my advantage. The problem is, though, that I have no idea for what I’m planning. We train, we study, and we practice, but not one of us knows what the day has in store.

According to my watch, it’s 8:03. I don’t think it’s off, but I have never known our instructor to be late. Mr. Nystrom is the most organized person I’ve ever met. The sudden realization dawns on me that we aren’t waiting for Recruitment – the tests have already begun. Leaning back in my chair, I tap my watch and whistle calmly, acting nonchalant.

Setting the front legs of the chair back down, I stand to my feet. For a moment, all eyes turn to me, but my classmates quickly forget my existence. Inhaling deeply, I stride toward the door. Before I exit the room, I am stalled by another thought. What if the teacher is simply late? Or perhaps the test is to find a leader within the room, not the first to abandon the others. Schools may prefer either, depending on the career they represent. Some fields cherish teamwork while others encourage a cutthroat ambition. I ponder my options with a glance over my back at the students still discussing their expectations for the tests.

“Mr. Adachi, is there a particular reason you’re standing?” a booming voice questioned, drawing my eyes to the door. Mr. Law walked in; his supercharged muscles visible even through his shirt. Not every Brawn is altered physically by their power, but Class IIs like him often are to some degree.

“Just staving away the boredom,” I quip. “It’s not like our teacher to be late, and on such an important day at that.”

“Yes, well, I’ll explain that,” Mr. Law shrugs. I catch his eye, trying to search for answers within them. Unable to find any, I retreat to my desk. Maintaining my confident act, I lean back and crack my knuckles. I’m a Class I, I don’t have to fear Recruitment. If I can make myself believe it, perhaps they will as well.

“Your normal teacher is helping to prepare the tests,” Mr. Law bellows, beaming at the class as if delivering this news is the greatest honor he’s ever held. “So I am here to relay a message.”

The lingering sound of conversation dies down as Mr. Law steps to the center of the classroom.

“You’ve all been waiting for this day for your entire lives. Now, it’s upon you. This is your chance to show your power; to demonstrate everything you’ve learned. However, a strong power will not solve your life’s problems. Today, through the course of the Recruitment, you will be tested in various ways to determine your School. For the first test, you will be sorted by Class.”

My heart collapses and my breath catches in my throat. If they’re sorting us by class, how will I be tested? Alone? Or will I be placed with the IIs, who will outshine me in every way?

“Unfortunately, the principal told me that if I talked too much, I would end up revealing the secrets waiting for you, so I was told to keep this brief. In that spirit, class will not proceed as normal for the today. Instead, all seniors will report to the Arena for testing.”

Silence fills the room, but no one moves. My mind is racing and I’m beginning to feel queasy. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Mr. Law seems to realize that we are awaiting orders.

“What are you waiting for? Seize your futures!” He cheers. The Vs yell in excitement, apparently eager to have their own tests. The IIs, though less vocally enthusiastic, are the first to stand and rush to the door.

“Carson, stay behind for a moment, would you?” Mr. Law asks. The question is unnecessary, because in my stunned state, I find myself seated long after the room has cleared. The teacher’s smile fades as he approaches me, sitting on the desk beside me.

“You’ll be testing with the Vs,” he informs me.

“What…” I stutter, any semblance of confidence fleeing as my voice cracks. Thankfully, I can trust Mr. Law and I don’t have to pretend around him. “That isn’t better,” I complain, my voice growing angry.

“It is better. This is good, Car.”

“No, it isn’t! This was my only chance to stand out. Now, even if I do, all of the schools will know I was placed with the lower classes!”

“That isn’t what they’re watching for. They’ll see your aptitude.”

“The Vs are all going to the Drone School anyway. No one will even be paying attention that far in.”

“That’s why we test them first.”

“So I’m going first,” I freeze. Everything I had assumed is falling to pieces, and I don’t know what to think anymore.

“You’ll stand out, Carson. You’ll get into a good school. Just be yourself.”

“How can you say that?”

“Why do you think I am here? Nothing is the same on the day of Recruitment, Carson. We can’t allow complacency.”

“So everything is a test?” I surmise. “I was right?”

“I am not saying that,” he smirked. “I will not reveal the secrets of your testing. I can tell you, my boy, that it’s no secret that a Class I is not destined to be a drone.”

“Thank you, sir,” I shakily reply. My mind still reeling, I realize that I can’t wait long. He’s already told me I’m testing first, so I have to be ready.

“Now go, Carson,” he orders. “They don’t know I asked you to stay. You wouldn’t want to be late.”

Without another word, I jump to my feet. Nodding, I race out the door and through the hallway, skidding around a corner to try to catch up with the other students. The halls are filled with dawdlers who either don’t understand the urgency of the tests or are overconfident. A group of my classmates is gathered around a window twenty feet down the hall. I slow to a fast walk, careful not to alert the others to the subtle hints from Mr. Law. I brush past the group, noticing Rhett on the outskirts. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I tug him along with me.

“What’s going on, Car?” He whispers, quickly assessing my desire for subtlety.

“No need for delay,” I answer cryptically. Glancing out the window, I see a black car – one used for official Council business. A student, Lance Quill, climbs out of the passenger seat. I refuse to gawk at him like the rest of the sheep. Meetings with the Council don’t make him special.

As we move further, the crowd thins. Most students either ran ahead or trailed behind, and Rhett and I become the only two directly in the center of the group. Still, I don’t feel comfortable answering his question. A Sensor may hear me and spread information like a wildfire.

I realize my hand is still wrapped around my friend, and I pull it away, dropping it to my side. No longer bound together, the two of us are able to walk faster, and we eventually reach the arena. Teachers stand at the entrance, directing a growing line of students.

“Class Vs this way, please,” Mrs. Perkins calls, waving her arms over her head. Other teachers draw the rest of the students away. Standing by Rhett’s side, I am careful not to lose him in the crowd.

“Car,” he whispers. I hold up a finger to silence him. Mrs. Perkins directs Rhett and me to a bench before returning to the hallway. The commotion in the hallway dies down to silence as the soundproof doors close.

“Shouldn’t you be –” He continues his question.

“I’m with you,” I cut him off. “Mr. Law held me back. He told me that everything we do today is tested – that’s why I wanted to get here early. He also said I’ll be tested with the Vs.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah,” I nod, uncertain of whether I agree. As I speak, I gain confidence in my response. “Yes, it is. This is our chance to set ourselves apart. We’ll get into great schools together.”

“Did he happen to tell you what the first test is?”

“No,” I laugh. “No, I didn’t get any information that useful.”

Voices are audible again, so Rhett and I quiet ours. Ian, another student from our class, walks in. A small group follows behind him, but it’s far from the rest of the Vs. Slowly, more trickle in. Grace, José, Dean, Alexis, Halsey. Somehow, I have never noticed how many of the Class Vs I already know.

“Why is everyone so solemn?” Ian jokes quietly, trying to brighten the mood.

“Seriously?” Halsey snaps.

“No, he’s right,” I assert, rising to my feet. I don’t want to give away any sort of knowledge, so I have to be careful to make it clear my inferences are based only on what we all know. Giving myself a moment of silence to formulate my thoughts, I rub my face and shake my head. “Think about this for a second. All of you think you’re doomed, right? You think there’s no way you can stand out to these schools?”

“Yes,” Rhett speaks for the crowd. “Yes, we do.”

“Well, the fact that they’ve separated us means something. They aren’t pitting us against each other. This isn’t the Council trying to demean us. This is our chance to show the world that a Class V can still impact society.”

“Coming from the Class I?” Dean spits. “You have a spot on the Council waiting for you.”

“You really think that?” I laugh. “I haven’t met with them, Dean. I’m right here with all of you, aren’t I?”

He shrugs in response. Before I can try to continue my encouragement, another door opens. The gym teacher, Coach Cranston, bathes in the floodlights from the arena. Cheers erupt from behind him, and I can vaguely make out a few silouettes walking out of an identical room on the other side of the vast space. The floor is divided into four sections, each of which I’m convinced will be used for the tests.

“Let’s go, Team 2,” he orders, eying me specifically. Coach Cranston has never been fond of me, but the malice in his voice is particularly concerning today. The students around me, who are apparently my team, begin to stand. Leading them confidently, I walk ahead. Coach Cranston stops me, placing his palm on my chest as I try to pass him.

“Carson, you’ll be team captain. You’ll be going against another team of Vs led by Lance Quill.”

Terror rushes over me, but I hide it from my face. I hear murmuring behind me. Somehow, I have to calm my teammates. That task feels insurmountable as I realize how doomed we are.

“I mean, it’s only fair, right? If you get a Class I.”

“He would be testing with his Class,” I retort. “You’re trying to psyche us out.”

“You haven’t heard? It’s official. Lance is exempt from Recruitment. Minerva Alvarez has chosen him as her official successor. Lance is Class I.”

I know shock is apparent on my face, but I fight desperately to hide the fear. I hear dismay as my team mutters. Biting my lip, I struggle to maintain my composure. I am grateful that none of them can see my face. Silently, I raise my left hand into the air, tightly closing it into a fist. I can’t see, but I know my friend well enough to know Rhett follows suit. The chatter stops as the others do as well. Everything is a test today, and I will make sure my team doesn’t fail a single piece of it.

“I’m glad you’re confident,” Coach Cranston laughs spitefully, moving his hand from my chest. Holding my head high, I walk into the brightly lit arena. Beneath my feet, I feel the crunching of sand. This square is a grassy area with dirt patches and a track around the exterior, probably used for most of the physical examinations. To my left is a tiled floor with chemistry benches strewn around. Somehow, the tests involve synthesis of chemicals for an audience. In the upper left corner is a small cityscape. The upper right is a hardwood court, presumably used for sports testing.

All around the massive arena are hundreds of thousands of seats – even the closest of which can not possibly provide adequate sightlines to the entire arena. Monitors line the seats, allowing citizens to witness the more distant tests.

On the hardwood section, Lance stands in front of another group of students. They seem to be feeding off his power and confidence. I can only hope my team looks the same as I move toward my opponent, but I can’t risk a glance back.

As we reach our positions, the ground opens up around us. Walls rise from the gaps, closing my team in a square about one hundred feet in any direction.

“What’s happening?” Grace asks, looking over her shoulder. Alexis tries to run for the wall, but I grab her arm. A static shock zaps my hand and I pull back.

“Stop,” I command.

“Just because he says you’re the leader doesn’t give you authority here, Carson,” she growls. “You can all stay here, but I’m not about to get walled in.”

“You can’t escape it,” I reason. “You can’t jump that and you know it. You’ll just look like a panicked child.”

“He’s right,” Ian agrees. “We just have to wait for the test.”

A voice booms over the loudspeaker, drowning out any argument she may be formulating. I recognize the principal as he begins giving us instructions. “The first game is Dodgeball. If you are struck with a ball, you are out. There will be no way to bring your teammates back in – this match is all-or-nothing. If you throw a ball through or over a wall, you’re out. Your court will be one hundred by two hundred feet – use it all. Show us everything you’ve learned. You will have five minutes to discuss before the wall comes down and you begin.”

“Dodgeball?” Rhett laughs.

“It’ll test our skills, teamwork, and quick thinking. Anyway, maybe one of us has the potential to go pro,” I joke, trying to keep the situation light. It’s the first round of Recruitment and Coach has already managed to place me against nearly impossible odds.

“Right,” José laughs.

“Okay, let’s talk powers,” I say, hardening my tone. “Rhett, I know yours. Alexis, I think I have an idea. José?”

“I can create light from my hands.”

“Blinding?”

“No worse than the floodlights,” he sighs.

“Okay, we can work with that.” I’m not entirely sure how we can use his power, but I can’t afford negativity now.

“I’m an Intellect,” Grace chimes in. “But nothing impressive obviously. I can perform complex equations in my head, that’s about it.” Even the lowest tiered Intellect can use the walls for trickshots with kinematic estimations. She can be useful.

“Perfect aim,” Dean offers. That may be useful, but he doesn’t appear to have the strength to back it up. He may have to throw a ball over one hundred feet.

“I’m a brawn,” Halsey concisely adds. A Class V Brawn can only lift a few hundred pounds, but that’s enough to get balls across the court.

“I can create an illusion of any object I’m touching,” Ian sighs.

“It breaks when you release it?” I ask. He nods his confirmation. It isn’t much, but it can throw off their count.

Checking my watch, I wonder how much of our five minutes have passed already. We don’t have much time to formulate a good plan. I fight the urge to panic. Less than sixty seconds.

“Okay,” I start, trying to piece things together. “Okay. We have no Runners. We stay back and wait for the balls. José, we only have you as a surprise once – I expect an onslaught at the beginning. As they’re about to throw, light your hands. Grace and Dean, you’re our throwers. Alexis, I assume the balls will be rubber, so I want you to stay back. You and I will be distractions. Don’t stop moving. Rhett, toss them balls and make sure they drop them. Ian, you function as normally unless we need to confuse them. Halsey, your strength will be useful, but we have to apply it strategically. You’re our only chance to hit someone across the entire court – we can’t risk you getting out or throwing to someone who can catch. Stay out of play until you can get a good understanding of our opponents.”

“You sound like you think we could win. You know that’s impossible, right?” Ian complains.

“No. I know they think it’s impossible.” The loudspeaker buzzes again, silencing our conversation. I hope I’ve given enough direction, but I know the moment that wall lowers, everything could change.

“Competitors, line up against the back wall. When the middle lowers, you will hear a tone. That is your chance to run forward. If you get a ball first, you must return to your wall before throwing it. Give it your all.”

The wall begins to lower dramatically slowly. When it finally becomes level with the ground, five evenly spaced holes open along it and rubber balls rise. A buzzer sounds and, as predicted, our opponents race forward. None of them move any faster than I could run, though. They don’t have Runners.

“Change of plans,” I decide, unwilling to give them an advantage at the beginning if it isn’t necessary. “Halsey, throw me.”

“What?”

“Now!”

She shrugs, grabbing my waist and lifting me. She tosses me forward and I hit the ground, rolling toward the centerline. If I cross it, I’m out, so I drag my shoes along the floor. As I reach the center, I push two balls behind me. Stumbling to my feet, I run to the left. I’m able to send two more to my teammates. Turning, I see Grace running toward me. Pandemonium has already broken out among my team as they race forward holding rubber balls. One girl on the other team grabs the fifth ball. She reaches her arm behind her, extending it toward her wall. The moment she touches it, she throws the ball at me. Grace intercepts the attack, catching the ball. The other student sulks off to the side of the court.

From behind me, I see two balls flying over. The other team takes center court as Grace and I retreat. Lance easily dodges both balls, which tumble to the ground behind him. Two of his teammates collect them, holding onto them for dear life. Lining up with my group at the center of our section, I await retaliation.

“Don’t throw, wait until we have them all,” I order. I know they’ll be more prepared to catch, but with Rhett we can mitigate that risk. Alexis, ignoring me, rushes forward with a barbaric cry and throws a ball. Lance reaches a hand out and catches it with ease, so Alexis is my team’s first out. Three of our opponents throw balls. I’m barely able to duck under the one Lance threw at me. Grace steps to the side to avoid another, and the third was thrown with such horrible aim I can’t guess the target.

Lance’s team backs up as mine rushes forward. Rhett tosses a ball toward them. Seeing easy prey, one of our opponents runs to catch it. The second he does, he drops it and shakes his hands. Grace hits her target in the back as he turns and runs to catch up with Lance. Dean’s throw is nowhere near far enough, and mine bounces off the floor before it hits anyone. Ian feigns a throw and backs up, holding his ball.

I can barely see the motion as another of their players blurs past. They do have a Runner – they just held him back. He grabs two balls and throws them aimlessly toward us. The first is on a collision course for Dean, but Grace pushes him out of the way. The ball collides with her ribs. The second hits Rhett in the abdomen and he clasps his hands around it, eliminating the Runner.

Without giving his opponents time to think, Rhett throws the ball again. This time, they’re ready for his tricks. A Shifter catches the ball with steel hands, negating any effect of the altered temperature. Redirecting, he throws it back toward us. José lights up his hands as the Shifter throws the ball, but the distraction isn’t enough and the ball collides with José’s face.

“Now!” I yell. Ian holds one ball in each hand, drawing the eyes to him. I hold an extra behind my back, hoping to throw off their count. None of our balls hit a target. So much for that plan. Ian throws his, making a show of it to imply he’d thrown both. The shifter, overconfident, bends forward to collect a ball and I throw mine against his back. Lance grabs a ball and throws it, catching a surprised Ian in the gut. I duck under one ball and spin around to avoid another.

When I look behind me, I see that Dean and Halsey are already getting ready to throw again.

“Stop!” I yell. Our opponents back up, now realizing Dean can’t reach them. I approach my team, quieting down. “Dean, you aim. Halsey, throw. Push his hand at the last second.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Dean smirks. He pulls his arm back as Halsey tosses me her ball. Dean lurches forward and Halsey presses against his hand, rocketing the ball forward. Before our opponents can react, they repeat the process. The balls collide into two of the students on the other team with enough force to drive them into the wall.

“Impressive,” Lance yells, cockiness dripping from his voice. Lifting his arms into the air and walking forward, he calls out, “My turn, I suppose?”

“Can you do both hands?” I ask.

Dean nods, grabbing a ball in each hand. One aims high and the other low. I see our defeat in slow motion as Lance jumps, lying flat in the air. He catches one ball and deflects the other. Dean is eliminated and Halsey quickly grabs our last ball and throws it, but Lance bounces it back then throws low to hit her leg.

“Looks like it’s just us, Carson,” he taunts. Two balls roll at my feet, but I know he’s faster than me. Slowly, I squat down, monitoring his motion. He’s toying with me.

I grab one ball and rise, but Lance just shrugs. I can’t catch him by surprise. I need something – some way out. I can’t lose here. Not to Lance – the arrogant dog of the Council. Not with my team’s fate on the line. They trust me to get them noticed by a good school. I won’t be humiliated. Not today.

Altering my plan, I move the second ball so it rolls in front of me. I can’t win, but perhaps I can eliminate him at the same time. If he catches the first he may not see the next. I throw one ball toward his stomach. I roll forward, grabbing the second ball and launching it toward his legs. Lance turns, leans backward to avoid the first, and does a back handspring to avoid the second. Grabbing one of the balls from the floor near him, he adopts a confident smirk.

“It’s over, Carson. Good game, but I have to get these people their points. I’m sorry.”

He throws the ball. I can’t dodge it, I know I can’t. It’s coming directly for my face, and I’m not fast enough to move. Time seems to slow down as the ball approaches my nose. I watch as it changes direction, as if repelled by the concept of hitting me. The ball veers to the side at a slight angle, narrowly avoiding my cheek. Stunned, I don’t notice Lance’s movement. I don’t process anything except rubber colliding with my stomach. Lance, however, is no longer overconfident. He looks scared and possibly even relieved. As the buzzer sounds, I know I’ve lost.