SHORT STORY: "Trippy Testing" by Glacys Agustin

"Trippy Testing"

By Glacys Agustin

For the past twelve years, I've been attending a boarding school that trains children to be in international espionage. I'm not allowed to tell you much about it, or I could disappear. I'm not exactly sure what happens to someone when they leak classified information, but I'm pretty sure that if I did that, they simply wouldn't expel me. There would be a more severe punishment. 

What I can tell you is that I've been living at the school since I was three. My parents don't stay home a lot- One, because my dad is kind of... well... dead. And two, because my mom is always out of the country. I don't know what she's doing. In fact, even if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to tell you. She calls me for video chats every other weekend. Otherwise, I don't see much of her. It's okay. I'm not really dependent on her, I've been raised to be the exact opposite. It's still nice to know I have a mother that checks in with me every now and then. Some kids here don't have parents. Others have them, but might as well not, since they never see them or anything. 

Anyway, the end of my twelfth term was coming to a close and it was time to see if I was ready to get into the field. It was time for the test. The test was actually a series of tests that take place inside a test itself. A test of concentration and our willpower. I've heard several things about the testing room. The stories alone made me nervous.

"Jo!"

I turned around as I heard my name. Shay, my best friend, was striding towards me with a grin on her face.

"You ready?" she asked as I waited for her to catch up to me.

"I think so," I answered, slipping my hands into my pockets leisurely.

No I'm not, no I'm not, no I'm not, my mind chanted. 

"Well," Shay sighed. "I studied all week, so all that work had better be worth it,"

"You studied," I said. "But did you practice?" 

"Practice? For what?"

“You’re kidding, right?” I looked at her in disbelief. “Didn't you at least study with the TV turned all the way up?"

"Oh," Shay said. "You're talking about the testing room, aren't you? Well, I don't think I'll have a problem. I could ignore a hurricane happening right in front of me."

"Good for you," I mumbled wearily. 

On approaching the testing room, we saw the line of students wrapping around the corner of the hall. One teacher, Mr. Ferguson, was standing in front of the pure white testing room door. He had a clipboard in his hand and was organizing the students in line by what appeared to be alphabetical order.

"Looks like we're not going to be testing together," Shay said.

I nodded in agreement. Her last name was Wilson, mine was Foster. We lined up everyone else. Mr. Ferguson called for those with last names starting with the letters A through G, so I shuffled into the testing room obediently with the other students.

The room was pure white- the walls, the floors, and the we block shapes scattered around the room. Some of them were normal shapes like rectangular and triangular prisms. Others looked like frozen turkeys that had been left out in the open too long. All four walls were made up of projector screens, along with the backside of the door we had just entered through. From the ceiling hung four projectors, back to back to back to back, in order to project images on all four walls. There were little holes in the ceiling, about the size of a pencil eraser, that I took to be speakers.

Quietly, I took a seat on top of a white blob that looked more or less like a beached baby whale. As soon as the students got settled, Mr. Ferguson began handing out test packets and reciting directions. There was no doubt he had been through the routine many times before. 

"You have eighty minutes to complete this test. Choose the best answer and do not leave any stray marks on the Scantron sheet. Any students seen giving or receiving unauthorized assistance will be escorted out and their test will be invalidated," he droned.

I looked at the thick packet of paper I had been handed. Should be easy, I thought. It's only about as thick as a Harry Potter novel.

"... And you will be dismissed after the eighty minute time period is over. You may begin," Mr. Ferguson finished. He left the room and as soon as the door shut, bright colors burst into the room, washing the walls down with images that could only be found in the wildest of hallucinations. I flinched as a swirl of neon green swept over my test. Suddenly, a loud, heavy bass line came pumping from the speaker. An electric guitar been playing, the same three notes over and over to the beat of the bass. Then in came the synthesizer. Loud, fast electronica music filled the room; once pristine white, now a crackhead's party house.

Concentrate, I told myself. It's not that bad. 

I opened up my test packet and began working. The first few questions were easy, as long as I blocked out the music and tried to ignore the colors around me. Out of nowhere, the music shifted to loud roaring screamo. The lights in the room made the room spin, red and black and yellow shapes darted through the air. The colors didn't just move around the room- they blinked too. 

I tried to shake off the dull ache that had begun in my head. It's okay. You're okay, I thought, attempting to reassure myself. I moved on to the next question.

"Find the cranberry of the following equation: x^fish +x^3-46sfeda-ew3ufg"

Wait, whoa. What? I thought.

I reread the question.

"Find the degree of the efoluatin olwenfng: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx^fish"

My eyes began to sting as I stared hard at the problem.

Focus, I told myself. All you have to do is equate the fish.

A dubstep remix of a Taylor Swift song began to play and pink and blue orbs of color bounced along the walls, over the floor, and everywhere.

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

All you have to do is fish the following.

No, no, no.

All you have to do is- for crying out loud, let me just skip to the next question.

My left temple began to throb. I rubbed it in hopes of relieving the pain, until the right temple began to pulse too. I put my pencil down and clutched my head.

The next problem.

"If a train were traveling from Neptune at the speed of your grandma's wheelchair, wheelchair, wheel weeee weeee WEEEEE are NEVER EVER EVERRRRR getting BACK TOGETHER."

"Crap, crap, crap," I muttered, squeezing my head between my palms. 

The words in the testing booklet blurred together. All I could see were massive blocks of smudged black ink. I squinted at the page as waves of green and purple slid over it. 

"If a... traveling.... per hour... how much...."

"I can't read," I mumbled. Panic began to rise in my chest. How am I supposed to take my test when I can't read? I thought in frustration. 

My heart was thudding in my ribcage. Focus, focus, focus, I urged myself. I wiped my sweaty palms on the legs of my jeans before picking my pencil up again.

"If a train whgdsgefvieuhfiu woeafhiauwebfi larwfiregfaweifnaew"

The text before me jumbled together. Numbers and letters clouded up my vision, washed away by electric blues and reds and greens.

No... No... I thought.

My chest began to tighten. Someone was breathing heavily in my ear. 

"Go away," I yelped.

The breathing persisted, getting faster and faster. The breathing turned to panting, then full on hyperventilation. 

Leave me alone, my thoughts screamed.

Until I realized the ragged breathing was mine.

I flipped the page of my test booklet furiously and tried to read.

"sdfyuiolmnbfrt yuilnbvftyuikjdiefhawig fuibfcdfcvbmcirefheio wahf98wyfa8hisjsbsah" 

I flipped the page again.

"srdtfghdjpoawjfiqrbeoihreaoiqieijfekkndnnsodifishfishfishfishfrishfridhfridayfridayGOTTAGETDOWNONFRIDAYYY"

"No, no, no," I said, my voice rising in panic. "Make it stop. Make it stop."

I stood up, flipping the pages of my test book. I could no longer see the text. Little orbs of color were dancing around the surface. I squeezed my eyes shut. The little orbs played hopscotch and danced the Cupid Shuffle underneath my eyelids.

NO, my brain screamed. NO. NO. NO.

My chest heaved as I gasped for air. My hands were shaking too hard for me to hold the test booklet. As it fluttered to the floor, a voice broke through the music.

"Ma'am?"

Loud, heavy bass.

"Ma'am."

I clawed at the airs, trying to swat away the colors, the colors, the colors.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need to escort you out."

Colors.

"Young lady, come with me."

Electric guitar riffs. 

Colors.

Colors.

"Someone call for help, she's out! I think she's fainted. Get help!"

Then everything went black.

         The nurse’s round face appeared in the window of the clean, white door. She walked in, shutting the door quietly behind her.

         “How are you feeling?” she asked me, reaching over me to tidy the sheets of the hospital bed.

         “Fine, thank you,” I answered.

         “A woman stopped by. Said she was your teacher,” the nurse said, pulling a folded sheet of copy paper from her pocket. “She left this letter for you. Nice lady.”

         I took the letter from her and felt dread settle into the pit of my stomach. The same dread I had been feeling since the test yesterday. As the nurse left the room, I unfolded the paper slowly. The school seal was printed in black ink at the top of the page. With a pounding heart, I read the letter.

        

“To Ms. Josaline Foster,

         Due to events that have occurred during testing, your test has been invalidated. No retesting will be done for the rest of the term. You must attempt the exam again during your eighteenth term.”

My heart sank. Six more years in school. I was totally looking forward to it.