'Here we are.' The exec gestured for her to turn and precede him out.
He took her down a carpeted hall. She hardly noticed her surroundings. Photos hung on the wall. Fields and forests, she guessed, but out of focus, weird pastel colors. Some upper-class fad.
The exec opened another door.
A dozen people sat at blank computer terminals, waiting. One machine remained free.
'Right there,' the exec said. 'Get settled, and we can start.'
Jannine didn't recognize anyone in the room.
Everyone else is new, she thought. They're applying to work on the substrate, and there's a new test to get the job. What did I do to make them think I should have to take it? Somebody must have noticed something. Now I'm screwed.
The job test she'd taken a few months ago was all physical. It was still hard to believe she'd found such a job, with such a test. She hadn't known how to figure out a safe middle score, so she'd come out near the top of the group. She had always been athletic. Not enough to go pro. She'd tried that, and failed.
She approached the computer terminal warily. She stared at it, disheartened. Its only interface was a keyboard.
'I don't type,' she said. She spoke louder than she meant to, startling several of the others, startling herself. A nervous laugh tittered through the room. Jannine turned toward the exec. 'I told them, when I applied, that I don't type!'
'That's all right,' he said. 'You won't need to. Just tee or eff.'
She sat down. She began to shiver, distress and dismay taking over her body with a deep, clenching quiver.
The chair was hard, unyielding, uncomfortable. Jannine wished for her reclining couch, for the familiar grip, the helmet and collar and imaginary reality.
The screen blinked on. She flinched. She ground her teeth, fighting tears of rage and frustration. Her throat ached and her eyes stung.
'Any questions about the instructions?' the exec asked.
No one spoke.
'You may begin.'
The screen dissolved and reformed.
I should have been looking for another job a month ago, Jannine thought angrily, desperately. I knew it, and I didn't do it. What a fool.
She stared at the keyboard. It blurred before her. She blinked furiously.
'Just tee or eff.' One of those. She searched out the T, and the F. She pressed the T. On the screen, the blinking cursor moved downward, leaving a mark behind.
She pressed the T twice more, then varied the pattern, tentatively, with the F. The blinking light reached the bottom of the screen and stayed there. The patch of writing behind it jumped upward, bringing a new blank box beneath the blinking square. She pressed the keys, faster and faster, playing a two-note dirge. Her hands shook.
She touched the wrong key. Nothing happened. The system didn't warn her, didn't set her down as it would on the substrate, made no noise, made no mark. Jannine put one forefinger on the T and the other on the F, and played them back and forth. All she wanted to do was finish and go back to work. If they'd let her.
The screen froze. Jannine tried to scroll farther down. Nothing happened.
She shot a quick glance at the exec, wondering how soon he would find out she'd crashed his system.
He was already looking at her. Jannine turned away, pretending she'd never raised her head, pretending their gazes had never met.
But she'd seen him stand up. She'd seen his baffled expression.
Paralyzed at the terminal, she waited for him to find her out.
'Are you all right?'
'Yes,' she said.
'You finished very quickly,' he said.
She glanced up sharply. Finished?
The test ought to go on and on till the time ran out, like a game, like the alert, games you couldn't win. You were supposed to rack up higher and higher scores, you were supposed to pretend it was fun, but you were judged every time against the highest score you'd ever made.
The screen had stopped because she'd reached the end of the test.
The end.
Amazing.
The exec looked at the screen over her shoulder, reached down, pressed a key. The screen blinked and reformed. Jannine recognized the pattern of the beginning of the test, and she thought, Oh, god, no, not another one.
'You're allowed to go through and check your answers,' the exec said. 'Plenty of time before the next section. Don't you want to do that?'
One of the other test-takers, still working through the questions, made a sharp 'Shh!' sound, but never looked up.
'No,' Jannine said. 'I'm done. I don't want to go through it again. Can I leave now?'
'I really think you should work on this some more. It's for your own good.'
'I don't want to!' Jannine shouted. 'Don't you understand me?'
'Hey.' The test-taker who'd shhed her sat up, glared, saw the exec, shut up, and hunched down over the test.
The others continued to work, without a glance at Jannine or at the exec.
'I understand what you're saying,' the exec said. 'I don't understand why. You do fine on the alert, so it isn't test anxiety, but your score on this is terrible.'
Jannine felt spied on. He'd been watching her answers as she chose them.
Angrily, she rose. She was taller than the exec, and bigger.
'I'll tell you why,' she said. 'Why is because I don't want to take your stupid test.' She knew he was about to tell her she'd failed, she couldn't work here anymore, she was fired. 'I quit!'
She pushed past him, heading for the door. She was halfway down the hall before he recovered from the shock and came after her. She'd hoped he'd just write her off, let her go and be done with her. She hoped he'd spare her more humiliation.
'Wait!'
He was mad, now, too, and wanting to take it out on her. She could hear it in his voice.
'You're a valuable employee,' he said. 'We think you have a lot of potential.'
He baffled her. 'Can I go back to work?'
'What's wrong with you?' His voice rose. 'What do you have against being promoted?'
So that was what this was all about. A management test. Not a test to keep working on the substrate.
'Who asked you?' she said, furious. 'Who asked you to promote me?'
He stopped short, confused.
'You can take the test again.'
'Why can't you just leave me alone?'
'Will you to talk to me about this?' The exec rocked back on his heels and folded his arms and looked at her. 'Do you... Do you need help with something?'
Jannine hated the pity in his face, the pity that would turn to contempt.
'I quit! I said I quit and I mean I quit!' She fled into the elevator. When the doors closed, she was shaking.
The elevator halted at the production level. The doors opened. Instead of the quiet, cold workspace, each person in a couch, no noise but the pumps and the high-pitched hum of the electric fields, Jannine walked into midmorning break. Everybody milled around, drinking coffee and eating junk food, stretching and moving.
She crossed the floor without stopping. She hoped no one would notice where she'd been, or notice she was leaving. The best she could hope for now was to get away clean.
