Adult - Julie Steimle (best motivational books for students .TXT) 📗

man named Tom Brown. He had a black coat and red suspenders—these strappy things to hold up pants.”

“Translate the next part,” the judge commanded him.

Nodding, Jafarr listened.

Reluctant Testing

 

After five hours and two separate testing sessions, Jafarr Zeldar recited nearly thirty pieces of documented history, solved around a hundred math problems, properly conjugated his native tongue, the Ancient tongue, and the Parthan tongue he had been studying. Afterward they took him to another room where they performed a physical examination. The doctor there peered at the various scars in his skin he had received in confrontations with groupies, clicking his tongue in judgment as he noted that Jafarr was developed and healthy despite all the abuse he had taken—and he passed him. From there the doctor sent him into the emotional evaluator who merely handed Jafarr a certificate saying that his observations of him during the test fulfilled the requirement for Emotional Maturity. Handing him over to the Psychological Evaluator, Jafarr had to endure another set of questions, all concerning how he dealt with death, loss, and disappointment.

Dural Korad seemed to sigh with a renewed determination when the testing ended, his eyes fixed on Jafarr as the boy cleared the last level neither smiling nor frowning with that fathomless stare of his. When the undercity boy finished and was sent into the hall to wait for his rating, Dural Korad approached him. Jafarr just stared at the scoring screen. His levels tallied in front of him on a dark vis-pad mounted on the wall just like in his school for tests. He could see the numbers run up and up, the first few stopping on high marks. Jafarr sighed.

“Not low enough for you?” Dural Korad asked, smirking.

Jafarr did not respond. He just kept watching the numbers run. Each settled on high marks. Watching the scores himself, Dural Korad drew in a breath as they continued to go up. Jafarr closed his eyes. The People’s Military officer turned his eyes to him, shaking his head from honest amazement at how well Jafarr had hid himself. All the scores flickered across the screen, fixing at last on their totals and then the whole total tallied up. Jafarr turned away from the screen and started to walk down the hall. He knew it already. He did not need to see his score. Jafarr was declared a fit and capable adult.

The P.M. shook his head then rushed to stop Jafarr’s attempt to leave. “Not so fast, Zeldar. We have another order of business to complete.”

Jafarr stopped and turned around, staring at him in annoyance. “Where to now, Korad? I have to get home.”

Dural Korad shook his head and smiled. “You’re not going home for a while, kid.”

Closing his eyes with an exhale, Jafarr leaned against the wall. “I thought the test proved I wasn’t a kid.”

The P.M. glared at him for being smart-mouthed. Jafarr had been wise to keep his abilities hidden, and Dural Korad wondered if he was still hiding some behind that tired and cool expression.

“We have to stop at the twenty-sixth floor,” the P.M. said.

Dural Mesela strolled out of the testing room just then and handed Dural Korad the final certificate with the new identicard he received for Jafarr. Dural Korad nodded as he took them, gazing at the rating. He then passed them over to Jafarr. Watching his partner, Dural Mesela bit the side of his cheek and saying nothing.

“Congratulations, boy,” Korad said. “It’s official.”

Jafarr received them with a lack of enthusiasm. He gazed at the card, his eyes flickering to his new photograph etched on with his thumbprint and his blood code. He was a marked man. Jafarr stuffed the certificate and card in his pocket.

Dural Korad stopped him, pulling the paper out. “Gently, boy, gently. You’ll wrinkle it.”

With a glare, Jafarr folded the paper in half giving it a sharp crease with his thumbnail, and then again, making sure the P.M. saw him plainly enough. He stuffed it once more into his pocket.

Dural Mesela said, “Let’s take him downstairs. They’re waiting.”

Dural Korad nodded.

Jafarr gave both P.M.s the eye. “Who is waiting?”

“Your new boss,” Dural Mesela replied, pulling on Jafarr’s arm.

Jafarr frowned but let them lead him to the elevator and down to the employment level of the building.

They already had a job picked out for him. A manager of a major maintenance crew for the middlecity and uppercity stood in an office down below, waiting for them to arrive. He was a tubby man, middle-aged and balding. The man gave a grunt as he took Jafarr’s hand, asking immediately to see his identicard.

Jafarr handed it to him.

The man inspected Jafarr’s written credentials mostly. His other eye was on the P.M.s who watched Jafarr’s reactions with varying degrees of interest and consternation. With a look at the card’s written rating he grunted with satisfaction.

“Any experience in the field, or are you just fresh from school?” The man asked. “You look a little young to be starting any good core work.”

Speaking for Jafarr as the boy looked to the ceiling, Dural Korad said, “He’s experienced. His father’s been training him.”

The man nodded, grunting as he looked again at the card.

“I’ve been an apprentice since I was ten.” Jafarr spoke up, annoyed that the P.M. though he needed to speak for him. “But if you think I’m too young I’d be glad to just go back and finish school.”

The man looked up. He gave Jafarr, and then Dural Korad, a distrustful look. “He didn’t finish school? I thought this here says he’s an adult. This card says it.”

“Ber’sak K’renn,” Dural Korad said as he gave Jafarr a dirty glare. “He is everything we said he was. He has more than surpassed his schooling. He’s been merely playing around.”

Jafarr turned away with a huff of disgust. It didn’t matter that he was there. It wasn’t like he wanted the job or would be interviewed for it.

“Is he a hard worker?” Ber’sak K’renn asked, still eyeing the undercity boy.

The P.M. nodded. “Yes—he’ll give you your money’s worth.”

This seemed to satisfy the man. He gave Jafarr a once over and handed him back his identicard.

“I’ve got work for you right away,” the man said, wrapping his thick arm around Jafarr’s taller shoulders. “We’ve got some right in ISIC that these gentlemen want us to work on and they say you are the right man for the job.”

“I’m touched.” Jafarr murmured.

The man noticed his sarcasm with a frown. Pulling down his collar on the back of his neck, he showed it to Jafarr. “Do you know what this is?”

Jafarr swallowed and hesitated. “A Labor Class tattoo?”

“That’s right. This is the sign of an honest Labor Class man. They said you’re a hard worker but stuck in the wrong crowd. I can give you the opportunity to make something of yourself. If you stick with me and do as I say, you’ll live comfortably, and not stuck in some undercity sludge factory.” He read Jafarr’s silence as stubbornness. “I’m talking about a middlecity living with middlecity benefits.”

“I understand, sir,” Jafarr replied just to calm him down.

The man’s expression showed he took Jafarr as half-serious. Reading Jafarr’s slouched posture and dark looks well enough to know that Jafarr disagreed with the whole operation…down to the job the People’s Military arranged for him, Ber’sak peered back at the P.M.s, his eyes taking in Dural Korad’s examining posture of the boy. It was half-satisfied, half-discontent as if the P.M. was not sure this would work out.

“I’ll take it from here, Durals,” Ber’sak said, still holding Jafarr by the shoulders. 

Dural Korad looked at the two. Jafarr’s pained expression gave Dural Korad the satisfaction he seemed to be seeking, so he turned to go.

“See you at ISIC,” Korad said.

The P.M. then turned to Dural Mesela and gave the word for them to be off. He glanced once more at Jafarr as he walked back out to the elevator. Jafarr sat down at the office desk and sighed, taking the compuvid there and inputting his employment information. With a grin Korad stepped into the elevator. The doors closed.

Ber’sak breathed freely once they were gone. He looked down on Jafarr as he filled out the forms that made him his employee. As he watched Jafarr fill each detail out, he stopped him when Jafarr typed in his age. “You’re only fifteen?”

Jafarr nodded.

Ber’sak shook his head. “What trouble have you got yourself into, boy, to get you those P.M.s on your back?”

Jafarr handed the pad back to Ber’sak. “I was born.”

The middlecity Labor Class man shook his head. “That’s very pessimistic, fella.”

With a smirk, Jafarr nodded. “People think it is.” He stood up and sighed. “So, are we really working at ISIC today?”

Ber’sak nodded. “In the eastern block, prisoner’s quarters.”

Jafarr nodded. “I know the place.”

The Labor Class man shook his head, but he led Jafarr to the door and out to the elevator. “What did you do, really, to get them on your back?”

With a laugh, Jafarr shook his head, going with him. “I told you. I was born. It is reason enough for them.”

“Not for this much effort, Jaff.” Ber’sak looked puzzled as he pressed the button.

Looking up when he heard his nickname, Jafarr gave a side-glance at the Labor Class man.

“It is obvious you ain’t a Tarrn,” Ber’sak said giving Jafarr a once over. “I mean, an undercity Seer Class boy like you should not be a target for P.M.s.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped on. Jafarr pressed the bottom button then leaned on the side wall. “That’s what you think I am? A Seer Class boy?”

Ber’sak nodded. “It says so on your identicard you speak Ancient. Besides you look it.”

Jafarr took out his card to see it for himself. He had not really given the card any consideration, just wishing the entire day away. Sure enough written on the card showed he spoke Ancient Arrassian as well as English. Jafarr shook his head and put the card back into his pocket.

“Well, my mother was Seer Class. I’m not,” he said. Then he added, “Read the card again. I’m a Zeldar. That’s reason enough for them.”

The Labor Class man blinked, mouthing ‘Zeldar’ to himself with a nod as he eyed Jafarr more intently.

The elevator opened. They stepped out into the first floor. His new boss steered Jafarr back past the receptionist to the outside doors where the woman looked up and called for Jafarr’s identicard. He shook his head and pulled it out, handing it over.

Not even looking at him, she ran it through the scanner—then she looked up.

Jafarr gave a simple smile. She recognized his face then peered back at his adult rating. Her face flushed a little as she blinked at it, but she simply delivered his card back and said, “You can go.”

Jafarr nodded and walked out without speaking.

Ber’sak already had a flight car waiting outside. As he instructed Jafarr to step inside, Jafarr took one look at the middlecity sky and let out his last breath of free air. He closed his eyes and climbed in.