Prodigious Alignment: Chapter 7
As Areanna left her living quarters to find Natalie, she affected a light-hearted skip she hoped would assuage her father’s concerns. She did not understand exactly what those concerns were, but she hated how absent-mindedly introspective he became after similar conversations in the past.
Within minutes she arrived at the open area where her peers gathered. The crowd was thinner than she expected, though since she had taken the time to run home and review her APTs with her dad, it made sense that some other children left for home in the interim.
She directed her most withering glare toward the abandoned administration office as she passed the curving hallway. Mr. Nakamura — Specialist Nakamura, Areanna realized with a quick epiphany — was monitoring her at that moment with failed subtlety. Areanna was not surprised that the adults tasked with chaperoning would watch her more closely after the incident a few months prior. She turned to look at him and waved cheerfully; Specialist Nakamura quickly and sheepishly turned his attention to a small group of sulking teenagers in response.
Natalie stood a few feet from Oscar, looking bored. Oscar was having an animated discussion with three other boys his age, their hands shaped into facsimiles of spaceships and their arms flailing about wildly. Areanna had played enough “Pirates Versus Freighters” to almost hear the boys’ excited narratives even at this distance; like Natalie, she was already bored by them.
A look of relief washed over Natalie’s face as Areanna approached. “Where were you?” she asked.
Areanna felt the warm rush of blood on her face that told her she was blushing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Natalie. I meant to tell you, but I had to see my dad right after class. It was important.”
“You went all the way down to Engineering and already made it back?” she asked, impressed.
“Nope, he has a week off after working twenty-hour shifts for the past month. Of course, he’s still working most of the time, he just does it on his Muse at the table. Or on the toilet,” she laughed.
Natalie stuck her tongue out; she was not as fond of bathroom humor as her friend.
“He definitely deserves a break,” Natalie acknowledged. “It seems all the adults have twice as much work now as they did a year ago, but even so, I haven’t seen anyone work as hard as your dad.”
“Thanks. He’s giving it his all. It’s strange because, on the one hand, he has lost quite a bit of weight, and his eyes are sunken all the time. But on the other hand, he is intensely focused and seems existentially fulfilled in a way that belies the exhaustion he must be feeling.”
“You’re talking like a grownup again. I can barely understand you.”
“Ack, sorry,” Areanna apologized. “I mean, he’s super tired all the time but seems to enjoy what he’s doing more than anything else.”
Natalie nodded. “That’s a Clovar trait. I’ve never seen you as happy as when you’re writing a research paper. You’re both weirdos.”
Areanna laughed. “I can’t argue with that. What are you and the boys playing?”
“They’re making up increasingly nonsensical combat scenarios. I’m ignoring them.”
“Ah yes, the perpetual disconnect from reality in pursuit of adolescent entertainment. Why do we spend so much time with them?”
“Why do I spend so much time with you? I still can’t understand what you’re saying!” Natalie said exasperatedly.
“Ouch, okay. Sorry again.”
Natalie looked sheepish for a moment, then looked away. “It’s fine, I’m sorry for snapping. I was a little worried about you, especially after you were pulled from class last week to take that test. Strange things are happening as we get closer to Adalia.”
“It’s okay,” Areanna assured her. “I’m just excited and also a little worried myself. That test I took last week was actually the APTs.”
Natalie turned back to her friend. “The APTs? That sounds familiar.”
“The APTs are the job placement tests grownups used to take when they finished school. It more-or-less defined what job they would have on the Arvad.”
“More like the APTs are your dumb, smelly butt!” Oscar interjected to the delight of his cohort. All four boys erupted into raucous laughter. Natalie and Areanna rolled their eyes in well-practiced unison.
“Oscar, just because you don’t understand what we’re talking about, it doesn’t give you the right to interrupt us with foul jokes.”
“Okay, Natalie, I guess I just don’t understand your dumb, smelly butt.” More laughter from the boys echoed throughout the room as they delighted in Oscar’s wit.
“Come on, Natalie,” Areanna gently tugged her friend’s arm. “Let’s go talk somewhere these redundant troglodytes won’t disrupt us.”
“More like,” Oscar scrunched his nose in thought, “troglo-awesomes.” The girls ignored him and left Oscar to bask in prepubescent male approval.
Once they had distanced themselves from the boys’ hooting, careful to avoid the access hallways to avoid drawing Mr. Nakamura’s attention, Areanna turned to Natalie and realized she had done it again. “Natalie, do you think Mr. Nakamura minds that we don’t call him Specialist Nakamura?”
Natalie stared blankly at her.
“Like, okay, technically, Mr. Nakamura has the title of Specialist, right?” Areanna clarified.
“If you say so. I’ve heard a few grownups talk about Specialists, but I don’t really know what it means.”
“Specialists are the most talented, accomplished grownups on the Arvad. It’s a big deal to be a Specialist, and I think most adults refer to each other by that title if it applies.”
“Mr. Nakamura hasn’t ever said anything to us about being a Specialist, so either you’re wrong or he doesn’t care.” Natalie shrugged. “Why are we talking about Mr. Nakamura’s title all of a sudden?”
Areanna paused, grappling with what to say next. “It turns out I might be a Specialist.”
Natalie’s stare blanked again. “What does that mean? You just said Specislists are grownups who have accomplished something. You’re smart but still in school; how is that possible?”
“It’s weird, I agree,” Areanna nodded. “I was trying to explain this before Oscar interrupted. Dr. Prokhorov specifically wanted me to take the APTs because I might be a prodigy.”
“‘Prodigy’ is a word I understand. Also, shouldn’t we call him Specialist Prokhorov?”
“Ah, darn, I have no idea the order of operations,” Areanna said, wincing. “Mister or miss is under Specialist, for sure. But doctors require additional study, whereas ‘Specialist’ is bequeathed for professional accomplishments…?”
Natalie snapped her fingers. “Areanna, I was kidding. You’re doing that thing again where your brain starts on a new topic before we finish the other one.”
“Right, okay. So Dr. Prokhorov wanted me to take the APTs to see whether I was a prodigy, I guess. It’s a weird test; it’s more like a series of tests squished together into one. The questions jump around a lot.”
“Well? Are you a prodigy?”
“I think so. I got mostly A’s and some B’s.”
“How do you get more than one grade for one test?”
“It’s like I was saying before. There were multiple tests rolled into one. They graded them separately.”
“How many tests were there?” Natalie asked, trying to wrap her head around the strange concept.
“Thirty-nine, I think. Almost one for every official job aboard the Arvad.”
“How many jobs are there?”
“Fifty-two, excluding the Department Heads.”
“So you took 39 tests at once and got an A!?” Natalie proclaimed incredulously.
“Several A’s,” Areanna corrected her. “Also, some B’s. These were the most difficult tests I’ve ever taken.”
Natalie thought for a moment. “So they pulled you from class to see if you were a prodigy. That can’t be good.”
“What do you mean? It doesn’t change anything — I am or am not a prodigy, right?”
“How can you be so smart but so dumb sometimes?”
“Woah,” Areanna said, holding up her hands. “Are you still mad at me or something?”
“Yeah, a little,” Natalie admitted. “You’re missing something so obvious, I’m either totally wrong, or you’re being…” she broke off, struggling to find the correct word.
“Obtuse?” Areanna suggested.
“Hard-headed,” Natalie countered. “I don’t know; maybe obtuse as well. Look, what’s happening in two months?”
“Arrival.”
“Correct, Arrival. What is happening to all of the grownups, including your dad?”
“They’re working more and more hours,” Areanna said slowly, starting to piece together her friend’s point.
“What possible reason could they have for trying to figure out whether you are a prodigy or not?”
“I see where you’re going with this. They want to see if I’m a prodigy because they need me for something.”
“Duh!” Natalie shouted, startling Areanna and a gaggle of young teens ambling by. “They need you for something. Probably something so serious that you won’t be in school anymore.”
“What? No, there’s no way they’ll take me out of school. It’s too important for my social growth, not just to get smarter.”
“Bullshit,” Natalie said. Areanna took a step back. Natalie’s wrath was legendary, but Areanna had never felt it directed toward her before.
“Natalie, you’re scaring me.”
“Well, you’re making me mad. You’re smarter than me; we’ve known this forever. How can you be so dumb about this? Do you think the Prime Council values your social growth above the success of the mission? Above the survival of the human race once we get to Adalia? We aren’t on some cruise ship from Old Earth; we’re out in the depths of space trying to make a life for potentially our entire species.”
Areanna’s mouth hung open. Natalie had never spoken to her with such ferocious articulation. She was equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring.
“They’re going to take you from school, Areanna,” Natalie said more quietly. “They’re going to take you from me. And once we get to Adalia, who knows what will happen?”
“Natalie-”
“No, Areanna,” Natalie interrupted. “You know I’m right, even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet. You’re my best friend and the only person I really trust in the world. I think you secretly want to leave school. You love being the smartest, and now the entire ship will know just how damn brilliant you are.”
Areanna had never heard so much swearing from someone so young, let alone Natalie. “Natalie, I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching out to place a hand on Natalie’s shoulder.
Natalie shrugged her off. “It’s fine. We knew that everything was going to change in two months, anyway. If you need to leave me before then to help us all survive, I guess I should be grateful. That’s how my grandfather seems to feel, at least; ever since being summoned to advise the Prime Council, I’ve seen him even less. No one in my family has been around since everyone realized how important asteroid mining will be.”
Natalie reached up with the sleeve of her stationwear to wipe away the tears that began falling from her eyes. Seeing her friend in such distress also caused Areanna to tear up.
“Natalie,” she choked, “I don’t understand what’s happening. My dad is already acting weird about these tests, and now you’re so angry with me. I just wanted to have fun challenging myself and share my triumph with my best friend.”
“Yeah, we’re best friends, all right,” Natalie sniffled sarcastically. “Just a Specialist and her dumb, smelly butt, not-genius best friend.”
The girls stood facing one another for several minutes, shaking as quiet sobs racked their bodies. Areanna ached to hug Natalie, but she had been clear that physical contact was unwelcome.
“I’m going home,” Natalie said, breaking the silence. “You have to do what’s necessary, which probably means we won’t see each other much anymore. I understand, but I don’t have to like it. And I can still be mad at you for it.”
Without waiting for a reply, Natalie spun and stalked toward the children’s creche.
Areanna couldn’t move. Her rational mind struggled to process her complex emotions, let alone those she had received from Natalie.
She let herself cry silently until it felt self-indulgent. Then she sniffed one last time, wiped her face on her sleeve, and started returning home.
