The Wealth Test

Fear. Pure fear. It courses through my body from my head to the tips of my toes. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I have anything to worry about. I reach my hand into my pocket and wrap it around my heart-shaped locket. My head is buzzing like a million bees in a field full of fresh flowers. Except I’m not in a field of breathtaking flowers. I’m waiting in a long line on a dark, ominous day.

The Wealth Test is a government-issued test that has been put on every year since WW3 ended. Government officials come to every village in the country to assess each family. They utilize the Overall Human Wealth Index to evaluate their jobs, income, and lifestyle. If they decide the people or families are not “wealthy” enough, or don't have the power to do better, they kill them. They then take the children under eighteen and ship them off to the adoption center; a place where they will wait mournfully and afraid until a wealthy person from the capital adopts them.

Why do they do this to us? What can’t they just help the poor people? These questions bombard my brain even though I know the answer. They want the other countries to know who's the most powerful. After all, we are the wealthiest country among the New World. Ever since WW3, we have been on top. They want to be perfect. In my opinion, being powerful doesn’t mean killing people and leaving innocent children as orphans. I feel anger bubble up in my veins as I continue to clench my hand around my locket, hoping that it will bestow me with strength.

“Next,” says the government official dully. She motions for my parents to come forward. My mother attempts to look confident as she strides toward the table. Her normally loving face is scrunched up as she hands the official our family portfolio. The official opens it up and hurriedly scans the information. I can tell she is eager to get our village testing over with.

“This is your 14 year old daughter, Blake?” she asks, gesturing towards me. My parents both nod. She types something on her datatop, quickly mumbling that we passed. She flashes us a quick forced smile and tells the people next in line to come forward.

“Thank goodness that’s over!” my mother rejoices.

I let out a huge sigh and hug my parents. There are multiple lines, and in one of the lines, I see the Jefferson family arguing with an official.

The official looks livid as he tries to inform them that they did not pass. My heart shatters. It reminds me of about four years ago when a citizen was violently arguing with an official. They shot him right then and there. Now, the official leads the kids to the left side doors of the City Hall, and the parents are led through the right doors. I pull out my locket, but as I do, it slips out of my hand and slides under the left doors.

“Oops,” I say worriedly. “I’ll go get it.”

“Okay,” replies my mom. “We will meet you at home.”

I walk over to the door and pull it open. I glance down at the waxed tiled floors. Everything inside is white: the tiles, the walls, the doors, and even the trim. Where did it go? I notice a silvery reflection at the end of the short corridor and quickly glide over there. Snatching it up, I start heading toward the door.

“Now where do you think you're going little missy?” crows a stern looking man who appears to be an official. But he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Come on, let's go back to the waiting room.”

What? Oh no. He must think that my family did not pass the Wealth Test and that I’m supposed to be here.

“Sorry, you must have mistaken me,” I reply. “My locket accidentally rolled in here, and I was just coming in to pick it up. My family passed the Wealth Test and…”

The official chuckles, and I feel slightly offended. Does he think I’m lying? He clutches my arm tightly and guides me down the hallway into a sterile waiting room. About ten kids are sitting down. I notice that their eyes are puffy and red from crying. Some kids are even sleeping.

“Here,” he mumbles and hands me a glossy pill. What is this?

“You can sit down,” he adds while pointing to an empty chair. I glance down at the pill in my hand.

"I don't want to take this," I murmur. He takes the pill and shoves it in my mouth, forcing me to swallow it dry. My hands start to tingle and everything fades black. What is going on? What is...?

My eyes blink open and I jolt up. As my eyes adjust to the darkroom, I notice that I’m in some type of little girls bedroom. The walls are painted a dusty pink, and I’m covered in a thick comforter. This certainly is not my room from back home.

I reach into my pocket to find my locket. Except, I don’t have any pockets. Pulling the covers down, I notice that I’m wearing a simple white nightgown.

“My locket,” I breathe, my eyes brimming with tears as I continue to take in my new surroundings. That locket is the last thing I have from the Old World. It was my great grandmother’s.

My thoughts are interrupted as the door opens.

“Good morning sunshine,” chirps a petite woman who looks like she’s in her forties. “Mommy and Daddy have been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Who are you!” I yell. “Where am I?”

“What do you mean who am I? I’m your mother.”

“You're not my mom. My mom’s name is Agatha. She is...”

“Sweetie, I think you’re still dreaming. Why don’t you go back to sleep.” She abruptly slams the door and storms down the hallway. Without a second thought, I follow her. The hallway is dark with two doors on each side. It’s lined with pictures. As I take a closer look, I notice that the pictures are of me: me as a baby, me and the woman at a birthday party, me and a strange man playing a game. Mommy and Daddy. These pictures must be edited.

Peering down the stairs, I hear the woman’s hushed voice talking to someone.

“I don’t think the medicine worked on her. She seems to remember her old life. I thought she wouldn’t remember her family before the Wealth Test.” Seconds of silence pass before a deep voice responds.

“Oh no. Ok. Um, this has happened a few times before. It’s extremely rare. We need to transport her right now.” My eyes widen as I scurry back to the room. I eye a window and try to open it as I hear creaking from the stairs. Before I can crank it open, the man’s voice booms behind me.

“Well, well, well. You see, I’ve heard stories of children not responding to the medication, but I thought it was just a myth. I’m about to have a lot of trouble on my hands.” I take in his black uniform. Trying to dodge around him, he snatches me. I squirm against him, his hands gripping into my arms.

“This is a mistake I swear! My family passed the Wealth Test! If you could just look me up in your records or something I…” The last thing I feel is a needle in my neck before the whole room goes black.

I jerk awake for the second time in who knows how long. I’m not in the bedroom any longer but in a government-style interrogation room. The walls are charcoal grey. All that’s in the room is a table with two chairs, a one-sided window, a door, and a single, dim light hanging from the ceiling. I see my reflection in the one-sided window across from me. I can almost feel the people peering in at me from the other side. I try to move but my feet are cuffed to the chair.

The sound of the door opening has my body stilling. An older gentleman shuffles in and takes a seat in the chair across from me. My locket clangs on the table as he casually throws it to me. I grab it eagerly and clutch it against my chest.

“I thought you’d want that back,” he remarks. “I ran it through the historical databases. That locket is pretty old. Take good care of it.” I analyze the locket, already feeling safer with it in my presence.

“So it appears we not only have one but two mistakes on our hands. Your family did pass the Wealth Test, and the medication that we usually give to the children has failed on you.” A pained expression flits across his wrinkled face.

“So you give medicine to all the children to, you know,… make them forget?” Their families. Their lives.

He gives a curt nod.

“Yes, it makes it easier for the children to adjust to their new life after their family has failed the Wealth Test.”

So what happens now to me? I want to ask but can’t seem to get the words out. He leans in all of the sudden.

“Listen, I work for the government, but only on paper. I’m a rebel. I try to save families from the Wealth Test before it’s too late.” My jaw seems to hit the ground at this news.

“Is it just you or are there others?” I blurt out.

“I don’t know for sure how many of us are out there but a lot more than you may think.”

People working for the government are questioning this system too?

“Well can I go back home then? I need to see my family.”

“It’s not that simple anymore. At this point, you’re a liability. You know too much. Ordinary citizens outside the capital don’t know what the government does to children.”

“I don’t understand. Since when did I become a liability if all of this was their fault in the first place?” It looks as if a million thoughts are fleeting through his head and he doesn’t quite know how to communicate them with me.

“The government’s goal is to be perfect. The Wealth Test was designed to weed out members of society that are not deemed as not “perfect” in the government’s eyes so they can be the most powerful country in the world. You’ve ruined their plan. The medicine didn’t work on you. Therefore, you’re a liability. A flaw in their perfect little system.” He says the last sentence with great scorn.

Anxiety surges through my veins. I know what they do to the people who don’t fit in with their idea of perfection. My throat seems to close in on itself and tears threaten to escape.

“I’m sure you know what they’d do to you if they find out,” he whispers. “But I’m going to do everything in my power to try to get you back to your family.”

Still unable to speak, I feel a minuscule sliver of hope emerge.

“I can’t guarantee that you will make it back to your family. I need you to understand that.”

“Yes sir. I need to go back. Whatever it takes.” I straighten myself and bravely fasten my locket around my neck. I haven’t ever actually worn it. It always felt too special, too beautiful. I never thought I deserved to wear it. But I need its strength. After all, the only reason I’m in this mess is because of this locket.

He acknowledges my action and leads me through the door and then into another secret hallway. I will find my family. This is not the end. Kissing the locket, I start on my uncertain journey home.