Chương 23: The Final Round

"Why stop at animals. We can be whatever we want to be through genetic mutations. - Hunan Bigskull, Lead Planetary Researcher, Saturn" Glasses stared at the notification for a moment even as Kara read the list again.

"I can't believe they'd do that." His voice had gone flat. He could believe it, absolutely, and it made him angry anyway.

"His connections. That's the only explanation. And here we are, actually competing, and someone walks in because of who his parents know." He paused.

"I was hoping for better from SDC. But at the end of the day, they are an institutional committee. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." Kara understood. He had seen it before, closer than he would have liked - what happened when institutions bent to the weight of the right names. He had spent years telling himself he didn't want to engage with that world, that the best response was to stay out of it. He knew better now. Politics was not something you opted into or out of.

It was simply present, and you either learned to navigate it or you got navigated by it. What made it worse was his own role in it.

"I'm sorry," he said. He looked at Glasses directly.

"You were right. I should've known. They gave him a retest - that's the only explanation. And I handed him everything he needed. Every room, every test, what was being measured. I basically prepared him for the second round." Glasses was quiet for a moment.

"No point in moping about it. You made it through on your own. You still have as good a chance as anyone." A pause.

"Better, honestly. Make up for it by beating him." Kara felt the insecurities surface before he could stop them.

"I'm not sure about that. I'm not great at interviews to be honest. Beamer - he's charming, he's connected, he knows how to work a room. Those things matter for this role. And honestly, I'm not sure I even want to deal with all the politics that comes with it." Glasses looked at him. Said nothing for a moment. The silence went on long enough that Kara could tell he was building toward something.

"SDC has been running for years," Glasses said finally.

"No one has figured out exactly what they look for. If it were as simple as charm and connections, someone would have cracked it by now. And if EQ was the primary measure, why test all four attributes?" He stopped. Started again, and this time there was something quieter underneath it.

"The part about not wanting the politics. That's not a reason. That's an excuse. You're building yourself an exit, so that if you don't make it, you can tell yourself you didn't really want it anyway." A beat.

"I know that because I did the same thing. I told you I applied for the puzzle of it, that the result didn't matter much. And sitting here right now, knowing I didn't make it through - it still hurts. No matter how many times I tell myself otherwise." He held Kara's gaze, steady. He had said what needed saying, and he wasn't going to soften it.

"Don't make the same mistake I did." He turned off his light and went to bed. Kara lay in the dark for a long time, thinking about what Glasses had said, and what he actually wanted, and what he was actually afraid of. The two were not always different things, and he had been treating them as if they were. The next day, the classes were abuzz with people congratulating the selected Disciplinary Committee members.

During the lunch break, there was even a short stage show where all the new Disciplinary Committee members were introduced. Kara couldn't care less about that, so he chose not to attend. His mind was on other more pressing matters. The final round of SDC would commence soon after classes ended. He was feeling a little jittery, but thanks to his skills, he didn't just make a break for it. He had decided last night. Whatever the end result was, he would give it his all.

The final round was held in the School of Management. Kara had passed this building several times and registered it as the one with the well-dressed people who moved with confidence he wished he had right now. Inside, an indoor garden occupied the centre of the ground floor, a tall fountain running in the middle of it, the whole space lit warm and deliberate, every fixture placed by people who clearly had opinions about lighting.

The third floor conference room had a long rectangular table with high-backed chairs arranged around it. Several finalists were already seated when Kara arrived. One of them waved at him. Beamer had found a seat and was beaming at him, already treating them as friends and plainly waiting for Kara to catch up to the fact. He patted the chair beside him. Kara sat down.

"Brother!" Beamer said it at a volume calibrated for the room rather than the conversation.

"I knew you'd make it. This is it - the finals. We're one step away." He leaned back, entirely at home.

"How are you feeling?" You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Brother. That was new. Kara noted it - the volume, the way the room's attention swung toward them like they were putting on a show. He had spent last night deciding what to do with this moment. He had not been certain it would arrive.

He was less certain now that he was in it, with everyone listening and Beamer's hand on his shoulder and his own anxiety sitting in him, something he was trying not to let show. He put on the worried face.

"Honestly? Not great." He let a breath out slowly.

"I've been thinking about it, and I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. The politics, the connections you need - I don't have any of that. And I'm not the best with people either. I'm worried it'd affect my academics too." Beamer took this in, nodding, a man hearing confirmation of something he had already decided was true.

"I hear you, I hear you. It's not for everyone, this role." He lowered his voice, which still carried.

"Look - don't stress. You can leave it to me. I know people. Powerful people, across multiple Areas. I'll make sure we get the best demonstrations for everyone here. That's what this role needs, and that's what I can deliver." He put on a bashful smile.

"I'm pretty good with people too, if I say so myself."

"You really are," Kara said.

"And your connections - honestly, that's what this role is about, isn't it? I feel a lot better knowing someone like you is in the running." The smile widened. Beamer was warming to this in the way some people warmed to mirrors.

"Tell you what," he said, dropping his voice to the register of a private confidence delivered publicly.

"You go have a nice evening. Cafeteria, whatever you want. I'll come find you when it's done, and we'll celebrate. Foreign planets counter on me." It was smooth. It was genuinely smooth, and Kara could feel, sitting next to it, how effective it would have been on a version of himself from a few years ago - the warmth of it, the reassurance, the gentle suggestion that stepping aside was the comfortable and sensible choice.

"That's really kind of you," Kara said.

"I'd love that. But I'd feel terrible not showing up when I've made it this far. I'll just give it a go, even if I'm not sure I'll make it." Beamer tried twice more, each attempt slightly adjusted, each one met with the same gentle, apologetic deflection. Kara kept his face uncertain and grateful throughout, and kept his eyes moving around the room, looking for the camera he was fairly sure was there, and finding nothing. It was a gamble. He was aware it was a gamble. He had committed to it anyway.

Now all he could do was wait to find out if it was worth it.

"I'm sure that didn't go over well with anyone who knew he hadn't made the second round legitimately." Phinx kept her voice level.

"Was there really no other way?" Her senior's answer was in his expression before he spoke it. He sat easily. He had long since made his peace with the gap between what was right and what was possible, and that peace was neither comfortable nor something he could do much about.

"You know as well as I do, if there was a way, I'd have taken it.

""Ms. Wells." Phinx did not try to keep the frustration out of her voice entirely.

"You'd think our faculty in charge would have a damn backbone. I've got half a mind to march over and give her a piece of my mind. Screw these privileged upstarts. Why did we even take him into the final round? It was pretty obvious that he knew what the second round was all about!

""We took him into the finals because we had no proof of what we think we know, and he performed adequately in the round itself." He paused.

"We had to be objective. We always have to be objective. That's what makes the selection worth anything." She knew he was right. She did not find being right as comforting as she wished she did.

"The final round is ours," he continued.

"Who gets selected is entirely our discretion. Ms. Wells has confirmed she will support whatever decision we reach, regardless of outcome. If Beamer doesn't get selected, there is no institutional ground for complaint." He gave her a meaningful look.

"Anyone who makes noise about it will find they've only drawn attention to how he got into the finals in the first place." That loosened something in her chest. She had not considered that angle.

"He'll still complain," she said.

"How did that work out for him with the Disciplinary Committee?" She almost smiled at that. He leaned forward slightly, attention shifting to the screen.

"Almost everyone's there. Look - there's Beamer. And the one next to him - that's your candidate?"

"That's him. Raily's favourite," Phinx confirmed. Her senior was quiet for a moment, watching the screen closely. He had learned long ago that the most telling things happened before people knew they were being watched. Phinx watched too. And as the scene in the conference room developed, she found herself progressively less able to account for what she was seeing. Why was he doing this?

There was no way he knew they were watching - he was still scanning the room, still looking, which meant he hadn't found the camera and was going on the assumption that one might be there. He was gambling on a hypothesis. Publicly, deliberately, in the most visible way available to him. She looked at her senior. He started laughing - a surprised, involuntary laugh, one she had not heard often.

"You said he suspected we always have someone in the room. He's acting on it without confirmation." He shook his head.

"That is a significant gamble. If we happened to prefer the bashful type, or weight connections heavily - this destroys him."

"It destroys Beamer's character," Phinx said.

"Whatever he would've shown us in an interview - the charming, humble version he'd have prepared - we now have this instead. On record. We have everything we need to show Ms. Wells if she pushes back on the decision." Her senior nodded slowly. He was still watching the screen with keen interest.

"The round technically started ten minutes ago," he said.

"We should go in." He rose, straightened his jacket, and looked at Phinx. She knew that look. It came before things she needed to be prepared for.

"Pretend we didn't see any of that. He hasn't located the camera yet - he'll know we might have watched, but he won't know we did. Let him carry that uncertainty into the interview." He moved toward the door.

"Let's go see how he handles what comes next." Phinx followed him, the spring she had felt a moment ago replaced by something more cautious. She knew, better than most, how her senior tested people he considered worth testing. She was glad it was not her being tested today.