Failure to Thrive [Python]

"There's nothing worse than a bird with wings who doesn't fly"
Saying | Thinking | Hearing | Doing

Education is an extremely important part of everyday life here in District 6. From the moment we are born, thrust into the light out of our mothers' wombs, we are subject to limitless psychological and physical grooming in preparation for a future career in science, medicine, physics, chemistry. . . anything that the Capitol needs us to do that requires brainwork. Many of us excel and complete our required classes early, jumping into the career world earlier than the expected age. That is the norm here in this district. Knowledge and wisdom are key for success. Anyone who falls behind stays behind.
We are conditioned for success and pushed to our limits on how much we can learn in the shortest amount of time. We compete over who is the smartest, who knows more, who can achieve more with their wit. It is all a part of the grand scheme of life – preparing us to work for the Capitol under whatever specialty they desire. High-tech inventions from the Capitol are proofread by the only the smartest of our population.

As children, we are expected to achieve the unachievable. Understand the unknown. We are expected to push ourselves to become smarter than anyone else we know, which is why I am standing here in line today to receive my ranking in the annual aptitude testing from the College. Each year, everyone who wishes to participate – meaning everyone who is in their right mind – undergoes various tests of intelligence. Different studies are conducted and multiple tests are used in order to obtain the most accurate reading of one's intelligence. There are thirty-two possible studies one can undergo, based on how much you like taking tests.

This year, I was only able to stand taking eight of them. The number of studies I underwent each year dwindled as time passed and my eyes grew weaker. I would never be able to compete on par with most of the minds being assessed because of how little I was able to handle. One day, I fear that I may end up not taking any tests at all and become a 'failed experiment'. I will be reduced to nothingness, rotting my mind away and losing all hope of achieving anything. I might as well just volunteer at the Reapings and have myself be killed – surely I would not survive past Day One, or even the first minute – for I would be of no use in just a few years' time. My intelligence would be lost and I would be just another failure, not even worth being alive. I would be supported by the Capitol just enough to live, but for what? I do not and would not deserve anything from the Capitol. I am just a waste.

For now, though, I mustn't think like that. For the short amount of time that I predict that I have left before my eyes fail me for good, I must achieve the highest level I can. I would not be making any important discoveries or be consulted by the Capitol themselves, but I would do my best to repay the debt I owed for being such a waste of space. I would work to my death, or at least to the death of my vision. After that, who knows?

“Next!” blared an automated voice, slipping coolly out from speakers that floated above the crowd's heads. I shuffled forwards in line, keeping my head down and my sunglasses high on the bridge of my nose. I was in line for private screening results, a separate ranking from the overall grade. To my left, a huge crowd of people pushed and pulled to get closer to a large scrolling screen, listing off the names of many faceless people in order of rank. Cheers erupted whenever someone found themselves listed under a good number.

I'm not sure how long I stood in line, but by the time I reached the booth to receive my private results my skin ached from sun exposure. Though I was indoors, large glass panes lined the walls of the building and let in rays of light that I had been forced to stand in. Once I sat down in the available chair, I was offered a sleek touchscreen to hold and I looked through my results with eager eyes. I had done well compared to others, but I was falling behind in my personal average. Sweeping my fingers across the surface of the tablet, I scrolled down to read the comments added by my supervisors; three people with whom I was tested with every year. When I read them, my face fell.

Lacks concentration. Subject continuously loses focus during key sections of the exam.
Subject is failing to thrive in areas she previously performed at or above average in previous years.
Physical abnormalities may be affecting the subject's abilities to perform. Continued monitoring of the subject's health is suggested.

Though there were many observations and notes listed, I only saw the few that spelled out exactly what I feared – that I was headed downhill on a path that could not be avoided. Biting my lip, I blinked away tears that threatened to form in the corners of my eyes. I felt my body stand up, pushing the seat backwards with my legs. Like a robot, I stiffly handed the tablet back to the man that stood behind the booth. With a tactful smile, he bade me good day as he handed me a printed copy of my results that I was supposed to keep for my own personal use. I didn't plan on keeping it for anything except a reminder on how much of a failure I was becoming. There was no need, anyways, since the district kept results in a huge computer to access whenever they pleased.

The noise of the eager crowd, anticipating their overall results on the ranking board, was reduced to a dull roar in my ears. I had to go and see where I ranked overall in the district. It was expected of everyone, and I had to know it. The thing was, I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what I got.

Swallowing, I tried to clear away a lump in my throat that seemed to stick and not move. The offending papers holding the truth of how horrible I was were clenched in my hands. I blinked quickly again, fluttering my eyelashes to chase away the stinging sensation that was building up on my eyeballs. Light footsteps from my own feet lead me away and into the crowd, but I wasn't one of the eager ones.

Somehow, I got swept up in the big current of people desperate to find their results and ended up deposited in a small group of people that drifted on the fringe of the masses of people. Here were others like me, men and women who had just been told they were no good. Lingering on the edge of joining were a few people who looked like they were about to cry. One of them was simply staring at nothing, tight-lipped, as two brothers celebrated besides them. She was a girl, muscular and strong. . . and beautiful, too.

She's got the brawn and the looks. Of course she can't have the brains as well. That would be too much to ask for.