Order of the Majestic

by Matt Myklusch

  Joey’s eyes narrowed. “This time? You think I cheated last time?”

  “Did I say that?” Mrs. White shook her head. “No. We just think it’s amazing how no one’s ever gotten a perfect score on any one of our tests before, let alone multiple tests. Why, you’d have to be a genius!” Mrs. White lifted a teacup to her lips, a challenging look in her eyes. “Are you a genius, Joey?”

  Joey opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. This little curveball was the answer to his prayers. A way out of Exemplar Academy. All he had to do was retake the tests, get a bunch of answers wrong, and everything would go back to normal. Still, he didn’t like what he was being accused of. Maybe he wasn’t a genius, but he knew he wasn’t a cheat. “You can’t make me retake those tests just because you don’t like how I did on them.”

  “It’s not that we didn’t like your test scores,” Joey heard someone say. “They simply didn’t tell us anything.” A tall, slim man wearing a formfitting charcoal suit strode to the reception desk. His black hair was slicked back with styling gel. “But we’re not going to learn anything new asking the same questions all over again, are we?” The man shook his head, answering his own question. “Thank you, Dolores,” he said to Mrs. White. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Mrs. White nearly choked on her tea. “Mr. Gray? But I thought—his file said…”

  “Change of plans. We missed something. That is, we almost missed him.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Joey. “What do you mean you almost missed me?”

  “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? John Gray, Department of Alternative Testing,” the man said, offering his hand. Joey shook it. “Let’s see what you have here. I’ll take this…,” he said, collecting Joey’s file. “We won’t be needing this…,” he added carelessly, dropping the plastic testing suit on Mrs. White’s desk, spilling tea everywhere.

  “Oh!” Mrs. White yelped.

  “Yikes.” Mr. Gray winced at his mistake. He sucked air in through his teeth as Mrs. White struggled to save her papers and keyboard from the spill. “I am so sorry, Dolores. I didn’t mean… Ooh, that’s ruined, isn’t it?” Mr. Gray looked at Joey and nodded back the way he’d come. “I think we’d better go,” he said in a low voice.

  “Right.” Joey threw Mrs. White a half-hearted wave. She didn’t notice, as she was focused solely on her tea-splattered workstation. Joey followed Mr. Gray and booked a hasty retreat, power walking down the hall away from the desk.

  Mr. Gray led Joey through a maze of cubicles filled with white-suited students taking tests. Test monitors hovered over the children, jotting down notes on tablet screens. The office was as quiet as an empty library. NO TALKING signs were posted everywhere. “This way,” Mr. Gray whispered, guiding Joey up a staircase. The thirteenth floor was even weirder than the twelfth. It was lined with glass-walled exam rooms occupied by students wearing large bulbous helmets that covered their eyes and ears. The helmets looked heavy and uncomfortable, far too big for the children wearing them. They rested on support braces each test taker wore around their neck and shoulders. “Sorry about the confusion back in the lobby,” Mr. Gray said, as if none of this were in any way unusual. “Must have been some kind of mix-up in our files. It happens.” He was speaking normally again, no longer feeling the need to whisper.

  “What is all this?” Joey asked, gawking at the odd, cumbersome headgear. “I don’t have to wear one of those things, do I?”

  “What’s that?” Mr. Gray said, distracted. He was leafing through Joey’s file as he walked. Once he realized what Joey was talking about, he laughed. “Oh no. Those are noise-canceling helmets. Don’t worry. You won’t need one. You’re going to be in here.” He directed Joey toward an office with opaque, frosted glass on the door. As far as Joey could tell, it was the only room you couldn’t see into from the outside.

  Behind the door lay a spartan workspace. It had white walls with no decorations of any kind, not even a clock. There was an empty desk in the center of the floor (more of a table, really) with two identical chairs, one on either side. The room’s only distinguishing features were a surveillance camera near the ceiling and a series of shelves filled with puzzles, board games, sports equipment, and toys, all arranged neatly in plastic bins.

  “What’s with all the toys?” Joey asked.

  Mr. Gray took the seat opposite him. “Those aren’t toys. They’re office supplies. I need them to deal with people like you.”

  “People like me?”

  “Students who are going to ‘change the world.’ ” Mr. Gray tapped Joey’s file. “It says here you’re going to Exemplar Academy. Very nice.”

  Joey groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  “What? That’s a good thing. The world needs smart people.”

  “It definitely does, but come on… changing the world?” Joey shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “Is that so?” Mr. Gray took stock of Joey, trying to get a read on him. “You wouldn’t be out there holding a sign this morning if you didn’t have to be in here with us?”

  “Not likely,” Joey said. “Those people…” Joey paused, thinking about the eco-warriors filling up Times Square. “Don’t get me wrong. Their hearts are in the right place. I’m just not sure they make any real difference in the end.”

  “What would make a difference, then? You’re the genius. What would your sign say if you had one?”

  “I’m not a genius. And I don’t know what would make a difference. My sign would probably just say something funny like, ‘Earth is the new Krypton.’ ”

  Mr. Gray furrowed his brow. “What’s that mean?”

  “You know… Krypton. The planet Superman came from? It blew up.”

  “I’m aware of Superman’s origin.”

  “Then you know. Think about it. Krypton… that’s us right now. When I was little, I couldn’t understand why no one listened to Superman’s father while there was still time enough to save the planet. He was Krypton’s top scientist, and even after he had presented clear evidence that the planet was dying, no one believed him. Now I realize that was the most realistic part of Superman’s story. The way we’re going, people on earth are going to have to blast their kids off into space one day to save them too. I wouldn’t mind going first. Right now, in fact.”

  “You need someone to save you?”

  “I need to escape. Anything to get out of Exemplar Academy. If I could somehow get superpowers in the process too, that would be even better.”

  “Superpowers, huh?” Mr. Gray said, an amused look on his face.

  “I’m kidding,” Joey said, putting his hands up. “I understand the similarities between my world and Superman’s world don’t extend quite that far.”

  “Noted,” Mr. Gray said, scribbling intently in Joey’s file. “So, what are you doing here, Joey?”

  Joey didn’t understand the question. “I had to come here. My school wants me to take the PMAP.”

  “Because of your test results, I know. How’d that happen?” He opened Joey’s file and started looking through the pages. “These scores don’t line up with your grades at all. I mean, you beat these tests into submission. How’d you do it?”

  “I’m just a good test taker.”

  “So? Tests measure what we know, right? Unless there’s some other explanation?”

  “I didn’t cheat.”

  “I didn’t say anything about cheating. We’re talking for two minutes here; already I can tell you’re a smart kid. A little cynical maybe, but smart. I’m just trying to understand how you managed to surprise everyone like this.”

  Joey shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I just know how to answer questions the right way. Especially multiple-choice questions.”

  Mr. Gray looked intrigued. He leaned forward and tented his fingers. “Go on.”

  Joey took a deep breath. So far he’d been unable to give anyone a satisfactory explanation for his high test scores, but Mr. Gray worked
in the testing industry. Maybe he would understand. “Okay, let’s say you’ve got a math question where three of the answer choices are fractions, and the fourth choice is a whole number. I know not to pick the whole number there. It’s an outlier. They put that in to make it look inviting, but it’s almost always wrong. Or, let’s say there’s a question involving prime numbers. I know the answer’s probably going to have something to do with the fact that two is the only even prime number. Teachers always expect you to forget stuff like that. I don’t forget. Or, how about when a question has some absurd equation that looks like it would take an hour to complete? I know there has to be a shortcut somewhere. Why? Because on a test with a hundred questions and a one-hour time limit, you’ve got less than a minute to spend on each question. That means there has to be a faster way to solve the problem. Once you know that, you just look for a way to cancel things out and simplify the equation. It’s always there if you look. There’s a million little tricks.”

  “And you see through the tricks.”

  “Exactly. That’s all it is. Even with subjects I don’t know very well, I can at least narrow things down to guess between two answers instead of four. It’s not a total guess, though. The answers are all there in the details.”

  Mr. Gray leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed. “You’re a fascinating young man, Joey.”

  Joey folded his arms. “I was happier back when I was boring.”

  “Who said you were boring?”

  “No one. I’m just not used to being at the top of anyone’s list. Before I took these tests, my teachers hardly noticed me. It’s like I was invisible.”

  Mr. Gray raised an eyebrow. “And you liked that better?”

  “Sure. I could do what I wanted. Not anymore. Now I have to go to Exemplar Academy and study whatever this ridiculous PMAP test says I should study. No offense.”

  “None taken. I’m not going to waste your time with the PMAP.”

  Joey straightened up in his seat. “You’re not?”

  Mr. Gray shook his head. “Standardized tests are for standardized people. That’s what I say. I have more effective ways of gauging your potential.”

  “For real?”

  “For real real.” Mr. Gray got up and started digging excitedly through the bins on the shelves. Several items fell to the ground, including a large container of plastic building blocks. “When a student displays a talent for architecture, I test them using Legos,” he explained as brightly colored bricks spilled across the floor. Still rummaging around, he knocked over a stack of puzzle boxes, sending jigsaw pieces flying everywhere. “Kids who are good at putting puzzles together usually make for good investigative reporters,” he said. “Some of them end up becoming detectives,” he added with a shrug.

  “Is that what you think I should do?” Joey asked.

  “No. You’re something else entirely.” Mr. Gray found what he was looking for, a black trunk the size of a toolbox. He set it down on the desk.

  “What’s this?” Joey asked.

  “Open it up. See for yourself.”

  Joey ran his fingers over the black trunk case. The leather exterior was soft and smooth, like a well-worn baseball mitt, lined with nickel-plated corners and rivets. It looked like a piece of carry-on luggage that someone had forgotten to bring on board the Titanic. He flipped the buckles on the front and lifted the lid.

  “This is a magic set,” Joey said, confused.

  “You like magic, Joey?”

  “My dad does tricks sometimes.”

  “Interesting,” Mr. Gray replied. “But you’re wrong. It’s not a magic set. It’s a test. It’s your test.”

  The interior of the trunk had thick, red velvet lining and trays that folded up and out like a tackle box. Every little compartment contained a neatly organized magical illusion. “You think I should become a magician? I’ll tell you right now, that is not what my parents have in mind.”

  Mr. Gray laughed. “I don’t think people grow up to be magicians anymore, Joey. This is about logic and reasoning. I want to give you a real challenge. I’m measuring a very specific kind of intelligence here—the power to see possibility where other people see limits. The insight to understand how things really work.” Mr. Gray unbuttoned a pocket that had been sewn into the lid of the trunk. He reached inside and pulled out a black instruction booklet. “This magic set has one hundred and fifty tricks. If I gave you an hour, how many do you think you could get through?”

  Joey made a face. “I have no idea.”

  “Me neither.” Mr. Gray switched on the surveillance camera. The red light glowed steadily. “What do you say we find out?”

  Joey looked back and forth between the camera and the magic set. “And I thought the helmets and the plastic suits were weird.”

  “Not weird. Alternative.” Mr. Gray twisted the dial on a timer and set it down on the desk. “Let’s do this. One hour, starting now. Good luck.”

  Joey patted the lucky coin in his pocket instinctively as Mr. Gray excused himself, stepping over Legos and puzzle pieces on his way out.

  Alone in the room, Joey picked up the magic set’s instruction booklet. The sturdy, cardboard-bound cover was stamped with shiny, silver foil lettering:

  REDONDO THE MAGNIFICENT

  PROUDLY PRESENTS

  THE MYSTERY BOX

  150 MAGIC TRICKS TO FOOL YOUR

  FRIENDS, UNLOCK THE IMPOSSIBLE,

  AND MAKE REAL THE UNREAL!

  Joey scratched his head. In his mind, things were already pretty unreal. He eyed the camera, wondering how Mr. Gray was planning to grade this test. The timer ticked away on the desk, telling him to worry about that later.

  Joey opened the book. Inside, he found something that looked like a warning. Large block letters at the top of the first page declared, ATTENTION PLEASE. Below that was the image of a classic tuxedoed magician, complete with a top hat, a wand, and a thin mustache. Joey assumed this must be Redondo. He had a very serious look on his face. Joey continued reading and discovered that the message was not a warning as much as it was a call to action:

  Before you begin, know this: The world is running out of magic. Unless we act, this most precious of natural resources will disappear forever from the earth. I cannot prevent this by myself. No one can. The purest, most powerful form of magic cannot be created alone. That’s where you come in.

  The wonders contained in this Mystery Box and described in the pages that follow hold the key. Master the tricks in this booklet and join me onstage as my assistant. Together we will perform feats of wonder to dazzle, amaze, and inspire. The world needs us, and we must answer the call. Onward, young magicians! We have work to do!

  “We’ve got work to do, all right,” Joey agreed, flipping through the rest of the book and scanning the contents of the case. One hundred and fifty tricks were a lot to get through in an hour. There were interlocking steel rings, boxes with false bottoms, weighted dice, multiplying coins, handkerchiefs that changed color, and several different sets of playing cards. Joey read the labels on each box: a marked deck, a tapered deck, a Svengali deck, and more. He didn’t know what any of that meant, but he didn’t waste time wondering. Joey turned his attention to the first trick and got down to business.

  Most of the tricks came easy. He was able to do them on the first try after merely scanning the directions. Others took more effort. As Joey worked, he was reminded of a magic set he’d had when he was younger. He used to do tricks at family get-togethers, putting on little shows for his aunts and uncles. He’d forgotten how much fun he used to have doing that. Joey had outgrown his interest in magic years ago, but working on the tricks lifted his spirits in a way he didn’t expect. For the whole hour, he didn’t think about Exemplar Academy or their change-the-world mandate once. The time flew by. Joey finished the one hundred and fiftieth trick with time to spare. He had emptied the case. A cornucopia of magical props covered the desk before him. It was the first time he had ever wished a test wasn’t over
.

  As Joey returned the instruction booklet to the pocket inside the lid, he noticed a key tied to a golden string at the bottom of the case. It was a skeleton key, the kind that looked like it might fit a lock on a very old door. The key had a tag attached, labeled TRICK #151. Joey flipped the tag over to find a faded message, written in elaborate cursive. He leaned in close, squinting to read the lines:

  You have come to the end, and a new beginning.

  I have one final trick up my sleeve.

  Come and find me if you want to learn more.

  Pull the string if you believe.

  Joey pulled the string. There wasn’t any room in his mind for doubt, because there wasn’t any time for it.

  The string snapped off in his hand. Joey heard a loud crack, and all around him the walls dropped away like falling curtains. Joey jumped up, tripped over his chair, and fell down, landing not on the tiled office floor, but on hard concrete. The white-walled office was gone. The entire thirteenth floor of the NATL building was gone. Joey was alone on a foggy city street.

  2 Thinking Outside the Box

  “Hello?” Joey called out. “Mr. Gray?”

  Joey held his breath and listened. He wrapped his arms around himself. It was spring, but the cold bite in the air made it feel like winter. The sun, which had been strong that morning, was now blocked out by a thick blanket of clouds. Joey stood up. He was on the street outside the NATL building, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Joey held up the key, still tied to the severed golden string, and stared at it in a daze.

  What the…?

  “Hello?!!” Joey shouted again, this time with more urgency in his voice. Fear and confusion swirled inside his brain. He tensed up as if his skin were suddenly too tight for his body. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t natural. He was still in New York, but nothing made sense. Day or night, the streets were never this empty or this dark. It looked like someone had cut the power to Manhattan and had evacuated the city. Where was everybody? Joey heard a noise behind him. He spun around with his guard up. There was nothing there. A thin layer of fog hugged the pavement, rising into a murky mist in the distance. He couldn’t make out anything beyond the end of the block. What he could see was familiar—identical to the street he had walked that morning with his father, in fact—but that came as no comfort. The buildings were all dark and quiet, their doors all shut. He tried the entrance to the NATL building, pushing hard on the glass revolving doors. They wouldn’t budge.