Tarnished

It's been over two hours since Ezri threatened to eliminate the IPU and relentlessly murdered nearly half of the Convention’s 1,500 guests. All the survivors were taken here, to the MME Building, for an early taking of the Monthly Mental Evaluation. As I wait for my turn, I’ve been checking the web repeatedly for any mention of tonight’s events. But despite all those newspeople who were present, not a word has been said.

I guess that’s for the best. Telling the poor country, “Hey, there’s some people from the future with a whole arsenal coming to kill us all,” probably wouldn’t result in the most reposed reaction ever.

“Gross,” I mumble under my breath while checking myself in the bathroom’s mirror. My short blonde hair is disheveled, the halter dress I bought specifically for tonight is unsightly wrinkled, and my eyes look weary. I promptly fix my indecent appearance by placing back the loose strands of hair and smoothing out the fabric of my clothes. There’s never an excuse for looking unpresentable.

This whole thing has put me on edge, and I hate it.

The door opens to my left, and Shiloh walks in, holding a sheet of paper – a copy of her test results. She gives me a small smile and says, “I passed, 81 points.” That’s a fairly significant drop compared to her average of 90, but at least it could be worse.

“Has Jasper gone yet?”

“Yeah… But he barely made it, he got 75.”

“That’s a shock, to be honest. I expected him to fail.”

“Oh, come on, you really don’t have faith in him?” she says with a snort.

A score of 75 points is the bare minimum, anything below that and you fail the MME. When that happens, you’re put under “moderation” at a facility, the same place we send people suspected of crimes or have exhibited any type of concerning behavior. How long you stay there depends on the severity of the action committed. In the case of failing an MME, one could face a good few months in there, or even a full year if they obtain less than 50 points.

Luckily for me, I’ve never had to worry about that. I’ve only scored 100 points on each and every one of my MMEs since my first when I was 13. Even though Ezri has managed to… “Shock” me, to say the least, there’s no way I’m going to let her tarnish my record.

“Calla Hartwell,” a voice says from a speaker down the hallway.

“You’re up next,” Shiloh says, patting me on the back as I leave the bathroom. “Good luck.”

“Don’t need ‘luck.’ I never fail, you know that.”

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve all been affected by tonight. You’re hard to crack, that’s for sure, but you aren’t invincible,” she talks in a lighthearted manner, a consistent grin on her face throughout.

“Who says?”

It doesn’t take long for me to enter one of the many testing rooms. A chair is in the center, and there’s a helmet attached to wires hovering above it. The wires are hooked to a machine beside it that has a screen, keyboard, and control panel. Behind it stands Miss Gray, an overseer I’m very familiar with – both through the MME, and by being a close family friend.

“Ah, Calla! Surely, you must know something,” Miss Gray says as she sets up the test machine. “Care to tell me why your father has ordered the tests so suddenly like this? Or, let me guess, it’s a secret.”

The press hasn’t reported anything, and apparently the testers have been kept in the dark as well. Looks like the IPU wants Ezri to be unknown to the public for as long as possible. “Sorry, Miss Gray. You’re right, it’s confidential right now.”

“I see. Well, whatever it is, it must be quite serious. Can’t imagine what could’ve happened.”

Trust me, Miss Gray, I don’t think you want to know.

The machine beeps and its display turns on, indicating the test is ready to be taken. Miss Gray gestures for me to sit in the chair, and after I do so, the helmet is tightly secured on top of my head. As electrodes are put on me, my mind slowly becomes foggy while my muscles relax.

What the device does is put you into a deep REM sleep and makes you experience a dream, which is watched by the overseer. It’s similar to lucid dreaming, except you never realize anything is fake, and you forget you’re taking an MME. I’ll be judged by whatever my head conjures up and how I respond to it, along with vital changes like heart rate.

My eyes begin to shut, as the room fades into darkness…

***********************************************************************

As I walk onto the platform, I’m met with a multitude of tens of thousands of people. They’re clapping and cheering out my name, their faces are lit up with hope for a good future. It’s finally the day of my inauguration. I climbed my way to the top, outshone my opponents, got the votes, and in the end, the election was in my hands.

Everything has turned out exactly the way I wanted – exactly the way it should be.

My parents watch me from the sidelines of the stage, both in their senior years now. Mom pats away tears from her eyes, and Dad’s smile shows me his pride. He served us well as our leader, but now it’s time for new beginnings. I won’t let him down, I’ll make the legacy of his administration the best the IPU has ever seen.

Holding my head high, I begin to speak to my admirers, “Thank you, everyone. There is truly no better honor than to stand here today, ready to be your president.”

“WHOO! Tell ‘em, Calla!” Shiloh enthusiastically screams from the crowd, while Jasper tries to calm her down. Even as an older woman, she’s still at it with her typical antics. Gotta appreciate her, though.

After regaining my composure from her outburst, I continue, “Just like all the leaders before me, I’m determined to make the IPU grow and excel on every level. The years ahead will be better than the years prior. Under my authority, citizens will—”

“Miss President, may I ask you a question?”

I’m caught off-guard by the unexpected interruption, and am completely flabbergasted by the gall of whoever thought it was acceptable to try and talk in the middle of a presidential speech – my presidential speech, to make it worse. But it wouldn’t be appropriate to snap at someone for it. Unfortunately. Calmly, I respond, “You may, but you’ll have to do so when I’m done.”

“That’s nice, but I’m afraid this cannot wait.”

When the person steps forward and reveals themselves is the second a feeling of resentment courses through me. The sunlight brightens her white hair, and a mocking expression is hidden behind her hazy eyes.

It's Ezri.

“My question is, Miss President… Are you willing to surrender?”

“Of course not,” I say to her quickly, not hesitating for even a moment. “You’ve come to ask such a ridiculous thing?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘ridiculous,’ but no matter, I’ll ask you a follow-up question,” she walks closer, the limp in her leg still evident. Lazily resting her arms on the edge of the stage, she asks me, “Will you defend yourselves?”

“The IPU will defend this nation with our very lives, and you will pay for your audacity.”

Even though her mouth is covered by her mask, I can tell she has the nerve to laugh at me by the way the shape of her eyes upturn. But this is nothing to laugh about, I meant everything I said. Whoever dares to oppose the IPU shall perish, just like in the old days.

“Then fight, Miss President.”

***********************************************************************

Just before I’m ready to launch a horde of golems to shred that wretched women to smithereens, the test ends. I’m woken up, and it takes a little for me to get a bearing of my surroundings.

Right, I was doing an MME. It was all just a dream.

I exhale deeply, glad that it’s over, but my frustration hasn’t left. After all, what happened with Ezri wasn’t that much different than reality. I can’t wait for the IPU to deal with her and end this madness.

The helmet is lifted off me, and Miss Gray removes the electrodes from my skin. Turning to face her, I ask, “My results?” Though, I already know what the answer will be – a perfect 100, just like always.

“You got 98 points. Good work.”