The Test

8.

IDIR IS KNEELING ACROSS the window from his wife’s body, his head against the floor. He’s crying, whimpering, hitting the ground with his fist. He looks up at Tidir’s lifeless body and starts pounding with both hands, screaming. The man in charge asks him to stop. Idir doesn’t.

In the control room, Laura grabs the microphone.

—I think he’s losing it. We need him to calm down.

Behind the glass wall, computer technicians are frantically typing instructions.

On the big screen, the man in charge knocks on the window with his fist.

—Samaritan, you cut this shit right now…. Did you hear what I just said? Stop it now or I’m going to really hurt you.

Idir is pounding harder and harder.

—Now you’ve done it, Samaritan. What’s your son’s name? Do you want to make him an orphan? He’s a little short on parents already.

Idir doesn’t stop. The man in charge nods at the terrorist in the test room and Idir gets the butt of an M-16 to the back of the head. He falls to the side but won’t stay down. He shakes it off, touches the back of his head, and wipes the blood on his shirt.

Laura gets closer to the microphone, but Tom stops her.

—No, no. Wait.

Idir rushes the man standing over him. He grabs him by the legs and sends him to the ground. Idir is on top, punching as hard as he can. Blood gushes from the man’s nose. Idir keeps hitting, screaming. He unleashes all his rage; fists keep raining down until the man’s face is no longer a face. Idir gets up and grabs the weapon.

In the control room, everyone just stares. Even the technicians have abandoned their computer to watch.

Idir points the weapon at the man in charge and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He lowers the weapon to look at it, pushes and pulls the arming handle a few times. He tries firing again. Nothing. He looks at the weapon on both sides and finds the safety mechanism. He lets out a small sigh of relief, then the other four terrorists start firing at him.

Idir stands in the middle of the test room. Windows are exploding all around him. He gets hit in the leg, then the gut. A bullet tears through his chest. Another. And another.

Laura turns the small monitor back on. Idir’s body is convulsing on the hospital bed. His heartbeat goes through the roof, then he flatlines. Nurses run to Idir’s side and check his pupils. On the large screen, Idir drops to his knees, his body riddled with bullet holes. He tries to say something. Blood gushes from his mouth. He falls backwards.

The control room is silent, except for the heart monitor alarm. Laura is the first one to react.

—He needs a doctor. Get the doctor in there!

A nurse pushes a cart next to Idir’s bed. A doctor walks in. The nurse cuts Idir’s robe open. The doctor grabs the paddles from the cart and everyone stands clear. No change in pulse. The doctor hits him with another charge and Idir’s body jumps. On the large screen, his bloodied corpse moves in unison.

Deep is squeezing Laura’s arm hard, but she can’t feel a thing.

—Come on! Come on, friend! Live!

One more electric shock. Idir’s chest rises as he takes his first breath. Everyone looks at the heart monitor. They feel their own hearts slowing down to the regular beat of the machine. The doctor checks Idir’s vitals, then gives a thumbs-up to the camera.

Deep looks at his hand on Laura’s arm and lets go. She just now notices the pain. Deep puts his hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

—He’ll live?

—Looks that way.

Deep starts crying like a baby. Laura smiles at him.

—Oh, don’t cry. You know what that means, right?

—What?

—We have ourselves a hero!

—A… We do, don’t we? Does that mean he… ?

—With flying colours.

—He passed?!

—He passed.

Deep senses the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. He doesn’t feel the rush of victory—perhaps it’s not his to feel—but a soothing sense of order. Idir’s success strengthens Deep’s faith in the universe, his belief in cosmic justice, his conviction that good always triumphs over evil.

—This is control. You can start the awakening.

Laura isn’t easily moved. She’s seen too much in her years as an operator. Yet she is surprised at how happy she feels—for Idir, yes, but mostly for Deep.

—You should go down there.

—What?

—You should go.

—Can I?

—Yeah! Go! Go!

Deep grabs his backpack and is about to leave the room. His thoughts turn to himself.

—What about me? What’s going to happen to me?

—We’ll see. Either way, I think you should be the one to tell him.

Deep smiles. His future is uncertain. He’s proven himself unfit to be an operator, but this is the first time a subject has died during the BVA. They will want to study what happened, gather as much data as they can from Idir’s simulation. They’ll want to talk to Deep. They’ll want to talk to Deep a lot. That might prove difficult if he’s a disgruntled former trainee with an ironclad nondisclosure agreement. More than anything, they won’t want any of this to get out. In the end, it might be better for everyone if Deep continues working here in some capacity. One thing is certain: he has earned himself a place in BVA history. The one whose hero died. Right now, none of it matters. There is only one thing in Deep’s mind.

Idir is a citizen.