Locked.
Not a surprise but also not a deterrent, since the same kind of closure was on the wooden chests where my brothers used to store their personal items. When I was little, they teased me by hiding my favorite rag doll in those locked containers. Since my father believed in fair play, he taught me to pop the locks on the chests with a wire or thin piece of metal. Once my brothers learned I could open the locks, they stopped taking my doll. I haven’t had reason to use that skill much since then, but I have not lost the ability. Within moments, the cabinet doors stand open. As Stacia compliments my breaking-and-entering skills, I find what I need to create something else my father taught me. Something that could serve the purpose that Stacia suggests. Potassium nitrate, charcoal powder, and sulfur powder.
Stacia nods as I put the chemicals on the table and start to measure, hoping that I recall the proper ratios. I mete out the same amounts of each chemical twice—so when I am done there are two bowls that contain seventy-five percent potassium nitrate and smaller amounts of sulfur and charcoal. I keep an eye on the clock as the two of us grind the chemicals together. The process is slow, but dividing the labor makes it go quicker.
Stacia passes the time by chatting. “I can understand why the president might want to stop it, but The Testing can’t be all bad. I mean, there has to be some kind of benchmark for who gets to be in charge and who doesn’t.”
“Killing candidates seems like an extreme method of making that choice,” I say, although I can’t help but think of what I am doing now and wonder if my choices are just as extreme.
“I can’t imagine they kill everyone who doesn’t pass. Right?” Stacia stops and looks at me. “I mean, this country is still rebuilding. Killing off over eighty Testing candidates every year isn’t logical.”
“Then what do you think happened to them?” I’ve often wondered if the candidates who weren’t killed as direct penalties for failure have survived.
“I don’t know.” Stacia starts her work again. “We can’t remember our Testing, but who’s to say it was as bad as you’ve been told? And even if it is, think about the penalty for leaders who fail. They’re not the only ones who suffer the consequences when that happens. How else can you tell if someone can handle that?”
Stacia’s calm reasoning is disturbing because I can see the logic in her words.
“There has to be another way,” I reply.
“Well, there’s going to have to be since we’re going to end it. But you have to wonder whether the president would be asking you to do this if The Testing hadn’t already told her what you’re capable of. What happens once The Testing has ended and they need leaders who are willing to do whatever it takes to help this country survive? Just because someone says they are capable doesn’t make it true. And just because you think something is wrong doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary.”
“If you think The Testing is necessary, why are you working with me to end it?”
Stacia’s smile is hard and so very familiar. It makes me shiver now, especially when she says, “Because I want my chance to make sure the mistakes that ruined this country never happen again. If I have to kill to make that a reality, then that’s what I’ll do.” Stacia laughs. “Besides, you’d never do anything you weren’t certain was absolutely right. If you believe that by ending The Testing we’ll prevent a potential civil war, that’s good enough for me.”
My breath catches. My chest tightens as Stacia’s casually spoken words settle on my shoulders like a yoke. She is here because I asked. She will kill not out of passion for the purpose we have, but because of me. My request. My beliefs. My choices. I can only hope they are the right ones.
We work in silence for the next half hour. By the time the powder is ground, our arms are tired. Stacia helps me strain the black powder, then test it by putting a small pinch of the substance on a block of wood. I put the wood on a table, touch the match to it, and step back as the substance ignites. A flame several inches high burns bright, then fades.
It doesn’t take long for us to put shredded paper and the black powder into the fake pulse radio I constructed. Then I slide two wires into the holes and wrap black adhesive tape around the lid to ensure that the wires stay in place and no powder escapes the holes.
I check the switch on the radio to make sure I have built it properly. To engage the power source, someone must flip the switch and then turn a knob a hundred and eighty degrees. It is a design sometimes used to make sure power is not wasted if a switch is mistakenly turned to the On position.