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Authors: John Scalzi
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action while we go through our training. But they can’t do that with us strapped to a machine, so they’re strapping the machines to us instead.”
“Thanks for the cogent explanation of what I already figured out,” Susan said. “What I’m asking is, what purpose does that sort of measurement serve?”
“I dunno,” Thomas said. “Maybe they’re fitting us for new brains after all. Or maybe they’ve got some way of adding new brain material, and they need to see what parts of our brains need a boost. I just hope they don’t need to put in another set of the damned things. The first set nearly killed me from the pain.”
“Speaking of which,” Alan said, turning to me, “I hear you lost your roommate this morning. Are you okay?”
“I’m all right,” I said. “Though it’s depressing. My doctor said that if he had managed to make it to his appointment this morning, they probably could have kept him from dying. Given him a plaque remover or something. I feel like I should have made him get up for breakfast. That might have kept him moving long enough to make it to his appointment.”
“Don’t kick yourself about it,” Thomas said. “There’s no way you could have known. People just die.”
“Sure, but not days from getting a ‘comprehensive overhaul,’ as my doctor was putting it.”
Harry piped in. “Not to be too crass about this—”
“You just know this is going to be bad,” Susan said.
“—but when I went to college,” Harry continued, throwing a piece of bread at Susan, “if your roommate died, you were usually allowed to skip your finals for that semester. You know, because of the trauma.”
“And oddly enough, your roommate got to skip them, too,” Susan said. “For much the same reason.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Harry said. “Anyway, think they might let you sit out the evaluations they have planned for today?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “Even if they did, I wouldn’t take up the offer. What else would I do, sit in my stateroom all day? Talk about depressing. Someone died there, you know.”
“You could always move,” Jesse said. “Maybe someone else’s roommate died, too.”
“There’s a morbid thought,” I said. “And anyway, I don’t want to move. I’m sorry Leon’s dead, of course. But now I have a room to myself.”
“Looks like the healing process has begun,” Alan said.
“I’m just trying to move past the pain,” I said.
“You don’t talk much, do you,” Susan said to Maggie, rather suddenly.
“No,” Maggie said.
“Hey, what does everyone have next on their schedule?” Jesse asked.
Everyone reached for their PDA, then stopped, guiltily.
“Let’s think about just how high school that last moment really was,” Susan said.
“Well, hell,” Harry said, and pulled out his PDA anyway. “We’ve already joined a lunchroom clique. Might as well go all the way.”
It turned out Harry and I had our first evaluation session together. We were directed to a conference room where chairs with desks had been set up.
“Holy crap,” Harry said as we took our seats. “We really are back in high school.”
This assessment was reinforced when our Colonial came into the room. “You will now be tested on basic language and mathematic skills,” the proctor said. “Your first test is being downloaded into your PDA. It is multiple choice. Please answer as many questions as you can within the thirty-minute time limit. If you finish before your thirty minutes are up, please sit quietly or review your answers. Please do not collaborate with other trainees. Please begin now.”
I looked down at my PDA. A word analogy question was on it.
“You have got to be kidding,” I said. Other people in the room were chuckling as well.
Harry raised his hand. “Ma’am?” he said. “What’s the score I need to get into Harvard?”
“I’ve heard that one before,” the Colonial said. “Everyone, please settle down and work
“Thanks for the cogent explanation of what I already figured out,” Susan said. “What I’m asking is, what purpose does that sort of measurement serve?”
“I dunno,” Thomas said. “Maybe they’re fitting us for new brains after all. Or maybe they’ve got some way of adding new brain material, and they need to see what parts of our brains need a boost. I just hope they don’t need to put in another set of the damned things. The first set nearly killed me from the pain.”
“Speaking of which,” Alan said, turning to me, “I hear you lost your roommate this morning. Are you okay?”
“I’m all right,” I said. “Though it’s depressing. My doctor said that if he had managed to make it to his appointment this morning, they probably could have kept him from dying. Given him a plaque remover or something. I feel like I should have made him get up for breakfast. That might have kept him moving long enough to make it to his appointment.”
“Don’t kick yourself about it,” Thomas said. “There’s no way you could have known. People just die.”
“Sure, but not days from getting a ‘comprehensive overhaul,’ as my doctor was putting it.”
Harry piped in. “Not to be too crass about this—”
“You just know this is going to be bad,” Susan said.
“—but when I went to college,” Harry continued, throwing a piece of bread at Susan, “if your roommate died, you were usually allowed to skip your finals for that semester. You know, because of the trauma.”
“And oddly enough, your roommate got to skip them, too,” Susan said. “For much the same reason.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Harry said. “Anyway, think they might let you sit out the evaluations they have planned for today?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “Even if they did, I wouldn’t take up the offer. What else would I do, sit in my stateroom all day? Talk about depressing. Someone died there, you know.”
“You could always move,” Jesse said. “Maybe someone else’s roommate died, too.”
“There’s a morbid thought,” I said. “And anyway, I don’t want to move. I’m sorry Leon’s dead, of course. But now I have a room to myself.”
“Looks like the healing process has begun,” Alan said.
“I’m just trying to move past the pain,” I said.
“You don’t talk much, do you,” Susan said to Maggie, rather suddenly.
“No,” Maggie said.
“Hey, what does everyone have next on their schedule?” Jesse asked.
Everyone reached for their PDA, then stopped, guiltily.
“Let’s think about just how high school that last moment really was,” Susan said.
“Well, hell,” Harry said, and pulled out his PDA anyway. “We’ve already joined a lunchroom clique. Might as well go all the way.”
It turned out Harry and I had our first evaluation session together. We were directed to a conference room where chairs with desks had been set up.
“Holy crap,” Harry said as we took our seats. “We really are back in high school.”
This assessment was reinforced when our Colonial came into the room. “You will now be tested on basic language and mathematic skills,” the proctor said. “Your first test is being downloaded into your PDA. It is multiple choice. Please answer as many questions as you can within the thirty-minute time limit. If you finish before your thirty minutes are up, please sit quietly or review your answers. Please do not collaborate with other trainees. Please begin now.”
I looked down at my PDA. A word analogy question was on it.
“You have got to be kidding,” I said. Other people in the room were chuckling as well.
Harry raised his hand. “Ma’am?” he said. “What’s the score I need to get into Harvard?”
“I’ve heard that one before,” the Colonial said. “Everyone, please settle down and work
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