The Program

The news

Sweat coats my body and my heart pounds as I hear the ticks of the timer. 28 seconds left and I'm not even done yet. My mind goes blank as I stare at the merciless math problem, mocking me. "Time," I hear the automated voice come over the intercom. I swear under my breath as the screens all go black. This is bad. Really bad.

You see, I've been slacking lately. I've only been averaging about 96 correct out of every 100. That's considered unacceptable for the strict education system we have. We are at our school for nine hours a day, with two hours of home studies along with any assignments we have, for six days a week. On Saturdays we only have to do our home studies. Our progress is strictly monitored for the benefit of our society.

One hundred years ago we had a problem. People stopped thinking for themselves and stopped trying to make advances in the world. Crime rates were at an all time high, people were coming into the country illiterate, and people didn't take responsibility seriously. Eventually enough was enough and the government came up with a solution. They figured they just needed to educate people, and so "The Program" was born.

"Toby!" I hear someone yell from down the hall. I search through the faces I don't recognize and find my best friend, Charlie, jogging after me.

"How'd you do?" he says excitedly, managing to spray me with saliva.

Wiping his spit off my face, I sigh.

"Not great. I think this might be the one that gets me sent away", I say, "I didn't even finish the last two math problems", as the words spill from my mouth the mask hung on the wall comes to life.

"Do not discuss exams with anyone. One demerit issued. Report to Mr. Slacov immediately", the mask announced.

Slowly, and nervously we trod down to Mr. Slacov's office. He runs the masks. They are the monitoring system to prevent any cheating, to keep from discussing tests, and to keep track of how much we put our knowledge to use.

I already had three demerits this month. My supervision and work load will most likely increase. We rap on his door.

"One minute!" he yells. We hear him mumble something about impatient kids, and then he flings the door open. "You're here about your violations. Charlie, this is a first offence, go back to class, and write a 5 page essay on why it was wrong and things you could've done to stop the situation. Toby, you come in and sit down," Charlie shoots me a sympathetic look, then wastes no time striding away.

Warily I sit down in the hard wooden chair as he takes his seat across the large cherry desk, completely clear of clutter, which makes it all the more intimidating. This never happens. When a rule is broken, he quickly assesses the situation and gives the punishment he deems appropriate after a split second of contemplating the offense, so he can go back to whatever it is he was doing.

He sits in silence for a moment while he pulls out my digital file.I bite my lip and trace the grain lines on his desk. He sighs and crosses his hands on his desk. I won't look up. I refuse to make the first move. He begins reading.

"Third offence this month. Two last month. Five the month before that. Six of those were for revealing details of your exam results to people, four for not completing assignments. Do you see the trend?" he says in an unusually monotone voice. I nod my head still refusing to look up. Always look remorseful. They take pity on the sorry.

"Toby, this is a very important conversation and I would appreciate it if you would show me you take it seriously" he added. That was the only way he would ask me to lift my head. I glance up, and nod. I saw the trend. In fact, I'm surprised this conversation hadn't happen much before this.

"We've given you chance after chance to rectify the situation and shape up, grade wise and behavior wise and we've seen no change" by we, he meant him and the committee. They oversee our education progress and decide if we are intelligent enough to be in the society.

"The results for your test last class period are in. You got 92 out of 100. An extremely poor score. This is exactly the kind of thing we don't want influencing other students. The committee has come to the decision that you need more help than we can provide here. We have decided you need boarding school, and have already informed your family. You will be leaving on Saturday", he declared.

I was stunned. I knew it was eventually inevitable, but I couldn't help but feel shocked. They had only sent away one other kid this year from my year, and he was much worse than I am, always getting into trouble.

Nobody quite knows what goes on at boarding school. Very few people return to normal school after, and the ones that do are changed. It's hard to describe really, but there was this one girl last year. When she came back, she was a better student all right but it was weird. She never talked, and I heard rumors that she had to be carried out of a classroom because she started to completely freak out. She was screaming and thrashing around, clawing at people who got in her way. According to Charlie, it took four people to hold her down.

What we are told about boarding school, is that its much more intensive and strict. You live at the school, and they really engrain the information in until they think you're at a level to go back. An alarming number of people have yet to return, and probably never will. All the misfits and troublemakers get sent there, and they probably wouldn't even want to come back.

When people turn 21 they get a monitor implanted in their wrist. A small screen is visible with your name and IQ. Inside it stores your levels of education, more detailed test results, and it can track your every movement. It's like a virtual I.D. card. There are places that you need to have a certain level of education to enter, or have a certain IQ. The harder it is to get in, the more prestigious. When we turn 16 we have our IQ test done. That's the test that marks you for life, and determines your place in society. I have mine next year.

"Please!" I beg, "Don't make me go away there! I'll do anything. I'll take on extra home assignments. I'll do anything!" He shakes his head. "The decision has been made. Pack nothing. It's as precaution to keep all distractions out. Your clothing will be provided for you. Now go, I need to get back to work", he says as he gets a notification beep from a mask.

"Oh wait! One more thing. Hold out your hand," I cautiously put my hand out. He takes a large metal instrument, puts it on my palm, and I feel a sharp pain as the instrument releases a puff of air. I look down, and there's a small blinking light in my hand.

"Just a gps. Since you don't have your official monitor yet, we just use it to make sure you don't try and leave, not that we'd have to worry", he chuckles to himself. I stayed stone faced. This isn't good.