Prodigious Alignment: Chapter 6
Areanna burst into her living quarters after school with the energy only a ten-year-old muster, her eyes alight with excitement. “Dad! Are you home?”
“I’ll be out in a minute!” he called from the head.
“Well, I’m going to tell you now because I can’t wait.” A mechanical whoosh filled the living quarters as Gareth flushed the toilet. Undeterred, Areanna raised her voice to be heard above the noise. “Last week, I took an advanced placement test with Dr. Prokhorov. Do you remember?”
“No, I don’t think you told me about that,” Gareth said as he walked into the room, wiping his still-damp hands on his leg as he did.
“Maybe I forgot to tell you,” Areanna said, some of her energy diffusing as she tried to remember. “Anyway, they took me out of class one day to take a test. Well, really, it was more like a series of tests. They jumbled up the questions, but it was pretty apparent that there were a few themes between them. I counted, and I think there were questions covering each department.”
Something clicked for Gareth, and his eyes narrowed briefly. “Are you talking about the APTs? I thought they stopped administering those.”
“Yes, that’s right. Dr. Prokhorov mentioned that no one had taken the test in a while, and most people were older than me.”
“That’s true,” Gareth nodded in agreement. “I took mine when I was sixteen. Seventeen?” He looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his thumb against his chin. “It’s so hard to remember how damn old you are sometimes.”
“Not really,” Areanna shrugged.
“You’re ten. Talk to me in a couple of decades.” She stuck out her tongue, and Gareth laughed. “The APTs are the ‘Aptitude and Proficiency Tests.’ They used to be how Arvad’s leadership determined which people were best suited for which roles.”
Areanna looked at him a bit blankly.
“It was a job placement test.”
“Oh! I see. It’s the test that people say used to come after graduation.”
“That’s correct. It used to be that you received between ten and twelve years of formal education, depending on your natural aptitude for the topics most critical to running the Arvad. As we approached Adalia, the tests were tweaked to account for our needs once we arrived.”
“So if I started taking my classes when I was four,” Areanna started counting, “then that means I would have taken the APTs when I turned fourteen?”
“Possibly, yes. Most of us took it a bit later. Before Arrival, life was a little bit slower. The Arvad’s universal curriculum was designed to take a student an average of ten years to complete, but it was extremely common for students to take things at their own pace or spend an extra few years socializing and learning advanced skills. In fact, it was encouraged. I could have graduated in ten years, but I took an extra three learning how to be a Reactor Engineer.”
“That’s really interesting. I guess I understand why they stopped giving the test since there won’t be an Arvad in a few months.”
Gareth winced. “Oof. I know you youngins don’t necessarily feel as connected to the Arvad as us old folk, but I’ve spent years living and working on this ship.”
“Ha,” Areanna laughed. “Sorry, dad, I know you love the Arvad. She’s definitely home. But considering how close we are to Adalia and an entirely different life, it’s starting to feel like… Limbo to me. Does that make sense?”
It was Gareth’s turn to laugh. “Limbo? As in, Old Earth Catholic Limbo? What do you know about that?”
“Dad,” Areanna scolded, rolling her eyes. “I’ve read Divina Commedia.”
“The poems by Dante?”
“Alighieri, yes. One day I’ll read it in its original Italian, but the English translation by John Ciardi in the early 21st Century was decent.”
Gareth stared in awe, unblinking. He was increasingly reminded how brilliant his daughter was. Her affinity for history and the arts always seemed incongruous in a way. For Gareth, history was a stodgy topic for old men who stayed up nights poring through old records, debating pedantic frivolities about great people of the past the way two children might argue superheroes. The arts were seductive, creative, and energizing, perfect for the young and idealists.
Nevertheless, his daughter felt an affinity for both with an energy that challenged his, as she might call it, “grumpy old man perspective.” Come to think of it, what ten-year-old talked like that? Areanna was undoubtedly a special child.
The thought of Areanna as “special” snapped him out of his reverie. “Areanna, did Dr. Prokhorov tell you why you were chosen to take the test? Did any other student take the test with you?”
Areanna shook her head. “No, it was just me. No one told me much of anything, though Dr. Prokhorov explained that he had written much of the exam himself and looked forward to reading my answers.”
“You said you finished in a few hours, right?”
“That’s a weird question. It was closer to seven hours, give or take.” Gareth whistled. “Is that bad? I was worried I couldn’t finish before school let out, but since my class still had an hour before being released, Dr. Prokhorov let me review his lecture notes for Structural Geography. He sure knows a ton about rocks but made a surprising amount of spelling errors!
How long did you take to complete your APTs?”
“Over ten hours. Nine hours was considered fast. And at the time, the proctors gave us two full days to finish. Many people utilized every one of those hours.”
“Oh.” Areanna contemplated this for a moment. “Does that mean I did well?”
“Probably!” Gareth chuckled. “The fact it took you less than a day is already an accomplishment. Since you took the APTs last week, have you gotten your scores back?”
“Yeah! That’s what I wanted to tell you. I don’t mind admitting it was a tough test, but they gave me my scores today and said I should review them with you.”
A quick ping notified Gareth that he had a new message as if on cue. He glanced towards the table where his Muse rested. Its screen glowed warmly in response to the arriving message, and though Gareth couldn’t read the screen, he had a sinking feeling that he knew what was in it.
“Well, pull them up! I want to see how you did, kiddo!”
“Okay!” Areanna fished her own Muse from a pouch hanging loosely from her stationwear. “I hope I did well.”
They reviewed her scores together, Gareth looking over his daughter’s shoulder. The feeling in his gut intensified as if his stomach was imploding. The numbers on Areanna’s Muse were impossible. Were these errors? Did someone think Areanna had cheated? Had Areanna cheated?
“Oh good, mostly A’s!” Areanna exclaimed gleefully. “Only a few B’s, blegh. I was worried these results would sink my average, but these are pretty good!”
Speechless, Gareth reached over for the Muse. Areanna handed it to him and studied his face closely, sensing something was off. He scrutinized her results, many skewing startlingly high above the standard distribution of APT scores with which he was familiar. She had, in fact, a higher natural aptitude for his own job than he had.
With results this high, it was clear that Areanna would excel at any job she put her mind to. Gareth had, as her father, believed this for some time; however, reading this tangible, official report felt entirely different. It felt threatening. The fact that the Prime Council had decided to test her in the first place without his knowledge was worrisome. They must have known he would object, and while he was still inclined to do so, he understood it would be a fruitless challenge.
APTs helped decide who would become Specialists. Only roughly fifteen percent became Specialists among thousands of Arvad citizens, and there were only two criteria.
The first and least important were APT scores. There was no hard rule about this, but Gareth was unaware of any Specialist with an APT score below 80 in their respective field.
Second were the deeds and professional accomplishments of each citizen. In the past, it took someone as many as ten years of work to receive a Specialist designation. People held parties and ceremonies with friends and family for such occasions, which was considered a profound accomplishment.
Specialists received additional training and teaching under their department heads. Their social lives always took a hit, but most Specialists trained for this for decades, and the sacrifices were well-understood. Gareth was incredulous that the Prime Council would be so bold as to suggest Areanna become a Specialist at her age, but he was confident their plans for her involved taking her out of her regular school program. They might even want to take her away from him.
Areanna,” he said quietly. “Do you understand why you were asked to take this test?”
“No?” she answered, inflecting her response as a question.
Gareth weighed his following words carefully. He did not want the trepidation he felt to influence Areanna in her decision unfairly. “Taking APTs is the first step in identifying potential Specialists. Do you know what a Specialist is on the Arvad?”
“I think so. Some of my teachers refer to each other using that title the same way they might say ‘mister’ or ‘miss.’ Is it a pre-requisite for becoming a Department Head?”
“Technically, no, though I think that’s true for all acting Department Heads. However, Specialists do undergo rigorous training and receive additional education. Expectations for Specialists are incredibly high, as they are the best at what they do.
“There are perks to being a Specialist, too, but those aren’t typically relevant until you’re an adult. Also, I’m not sure what the implications for those perks are once we arrive in Adalia.”
Areanna thought about that for a moment. “Are you saying Dr. Prokhorov wants to make me a Specialist?”
“If I had to guess, yes. But I’m just making inferences here; I need to talk to someone on the Prime Council to know for sure.”
“What if I don’t want to become a Specialist?”
Gareth leaned back, surprised by the question. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, sweetheart. But you shouldn’t worry too much about that now. There are some unanswered questions here, and until we know what the Prime Council is thinking-”
“We shouldn’t make asses of you and me,” Areanna finished for her father, referring to a family favorite quote about the pitfalls of making assumptions. “That makes sense. Does this mean my APT scores won’t affect my GPA?”
Gareth snorted in amusement. “Usually, the APTs are taken after you’ve completed your education. This may surprise you, but most adults don’t maintain or even consider their GPA after graduation.”
“What’s the point of getting good grades, then?”
“Don’t get flippant with me, young lady,” Gareth said with a wink. “You well understand the purpose of measuring academic comprehension and retention.”
“Sheesh, you sound like Dr. Prokohrov.”
“Thank you. He’s more accomplished than I’ll ever be!”
Areanna rolled her eyes. “Okay, dad. I’m going to go play with Natalie. I just wanted to tell you about the test, but this whole Specialist thing has kind of confused me. I need some time to process it all.”
“Whether or not you become a Specialist, you are the most remarkable and intelligent person I’ve ever met.”
“You’re biased, and that’s a small sample size,” Areanna chided playfully. “We’ll see if you feel the same way in twenty years after the population on Adalia Prime explodes. Bye!”
Areanna shouted her last couple of sentences over her shoulder as she left their living quarters. Gareth watched her skip away as the door slid shut behind her. He struggled to reconcile the image of his little girl happily bounding to play with her best friend and that she was probably the most brilliant person aboard the Arvad.
With a sigh, he picked up his Muse. Just as he expected, he had a priority message from the Prime Council waiting for him, signed by High Commander Lucinda Natus herself. He opened it, and his spirits sank lower with every word he read.
