“Hm?” I turned back around.
Hershey was looking down at her cup, her eyes hidden by a wall of dark hair. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Helping me.”
I answered instinctively. “Because you’re my friend.”
Hershey grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Her voice broke as she whispered something in reply. It was too quiet for me to make out, and I didn’t want to ask her to repeat it. But I kept replaying the moment as we ran through calc problems and her Chinese vocab list. It sounded like I’m sorry.
We didn’t sleep. At seven in the morning we were still at it, but I could tell that Hershey was no longer panicking. She was ready. Maybe not for an A+ performance, but she’d pass. I, on the other hand, was screwed. It wasn’t like I hadn’t studied for my day-two exams at all, but I’d been relying on a final night-before push. Not to mention a solid six hours of sleep. Now here I was, an hour before my first test, queasy from the late-night coffee and so tired that my eyes felt like I’d soaked them in bleach and hung them in the desert to dry. I would’ve cried had I not been too dehydrated to produce tears.
I showered and put on a sweaterdress, hoping the outfit would perk me up a little, but I didn’t have the energy to dry my hair, so I twisted it into a knot and clipped it. Hershey was humming as she brushed her cheeks with bronzer, the bags under her eyes hidden behind concealer.
“I’m almost ready,” she said, catching my eyes in the mirror. “Want to grab a quick breakfast?” I knew food was a good idea, but I couldn’t imagine actually consuming it. My stomach was fizzy and sour, and the last thing I wanted to do right then was put something in it.
“I think I’ll wait,” I told her. “Get something after my practicum exam.” Which starts in twenty-two minutes, my mind was screaming. I slung my bag over my shoulder and started for the door.
“Just so you know,” Hershey said behind me. “I know why you really helped me.”
I turned back around. “What?”
“It was the Doubt.” Her voice was soft, but it echoed like a scream.
My brain stalled. How could she possibly know? My next thought was more practical. Don’t get defensive.
“The Doubt?” I said with what I hoped was a quizzical smile. The effort hurt my face. “You think I hear the Doubt?”
“Well, I know your mom did,” she replied, sounding very sure.
I took a step back. “Excuse me?”
“I know your mom heard the Doubt.”
I stared at her. “Who told you that?”
“No one,” she said quickly. “I just figured it out.” She’s lying shot through my head. There’s no way she could’ve known about my mom. So who told her? Who else knew?
She seemed self-conscious now, as if this moment wasn’t unfolding the way she played it out in her head. Then again Hershey wasn’t exactly the type to think this sort of thing through before launching into it. “I mean, I’m not going to tell anyone—”
“I can’t talk about this right now,” I told her, turning away. “I have to go. Good luck on your tests.”
I pulled our door open and stepped into the hall, letting the old mahogany door shut behind me. Just before it closed, I glanced back and caught Hershey’s eye. “I don’t hear it,” I said, as convincingly as I could. The door closed before she could reply, but she didn’t need to. I could tell from her face that she didn’t believe me.
14
“TODAY, YOU GET TO PLAY GOD,” I heard Tarsus say. Up until that moment I’d been distracted, replaying the conversation I’d just had with Hershey. When she’d said, Play God, she’d gotten my attention.
The screen in my pod lit up with a still shot of a giant wooden platform floating in the middle of a sparkling turquoise sea. Rolling green hills rose up on the island behind it, and the beach was beautiful white powder, nothing like the gray-brown sand on the Washington coast. Vertical logs rising out of the water formed a little footbridge from the beach to the platform, which was at least a hundred yards offshore. The dock itself was empty except for a pyramid of wooden crates stacked one on top of the other.
“In sixty seconds the dock on your screen will be crowded with celebrants” came Dr. Tarsus’s voice through my speakers. “It’s independence day on this island, and natives and tourists alike will gather for a fireworks display. The dock’s capacity is two hundred and fifty people. When the fireworks begin, there will be more than three times that many there.”
The image on my screen zoomed in so I was looking more closely at the crates. “These twelve crates are filled with more than two tons of aerial display fireworks. The fireworks are all ‘pre-scribbed,’ which means that an electrical match was attached to each shell before the fireworks were loaded into the crate. In thirteen minutes one of these fireworks will explode, setting off a chain reaction that will destroy the dock and kill everyone on it.
“Your job is to decide who lives and who dies,” Tarsus said then, as the platform was instantly populated with people. It was so crowded, I didn’t see an inch of open space. “Using your hands, you will be able to zoom in on individuals, and if you double-tap their bodies, you’ll see key details about them. Where they’re from, how old they are, what they do for a living. This information is there to assist you in your decision-making. As always, your grades will be based on net social impact—the fewer high-value people who die, the better your mark will be.”
My eyes jumped around the platform, taking it all in. There were people of all races, from all walks of life, it seemed. There were clues, I saw, to help us know where to begin. Expensive sunglasses, designer sun hats. The tourists. No doubt the highest-value people on the dock. A pit formed in my stomach. I didn’t want to do this.
“You’ll only be able to move one person at a time,” Tarsus said. “To move someone, simply hold your finger on their body until it begins to blink, then slide your finger to wherever you want them to go. Once you’ve initiated an evacuation, you’ll be able to move on to the next evacuee.”
My heart started to pound as a countdown clock popped up on my screen, showing thirteen minutes and ten seconds.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Tarsus said. “There are hefty deductions for injuries and deaths that you cause. It’s better for someone to die in the explosion than at your hand. Good luck, students. You may begin.”
And just like that, the audio clicked on and the clock started to run.
Hurry, I told myself. You have to hurry. But I was frozen, eyes glued to the group of young native children at the center of the dock. There had to be at least a hundred of them, all shoeless and wearing flowered headbands and sashes, laughing as they waited for the fireworks to begin, their voices carrying above the rest. I double-tapped one.
Male. 8 yrs. Indo-Fijian descent. IQ 75. Unskilled.
The pit in my stomach swelled. He was such a cute kid, with a wide, toothless smile. But I’d learned enough in class to know that his utility value was low. Every person, thing, action, and outcome had one. A number from –1 to 1 that represented their net impact on society. Like the father in the simulation we’d done on the first day of class—the PhD I’d let die—some people were worth more than others, and if I wanted to do well on this exam, I’d have to evacuate those people first. Then, if there was time, maybe I could save the kids.
I wanted to save them all.
Could I somehow identify the faulty firework before it blew? No. Tarsus had said there were more than two tons of explosives in that crate. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to look for anyway. My eyes darted to the clock. There were only twelve minutes and thirty seconds left and more than seven hundred and fifty people to get off that dock. Hurry, I told myself again.