Noology by Alanna Markey Read Free Book Online Page B

natural that he failed to realize the
stresses bothering my narcissistic self.
    I lock him in a strong embrace,
whispering into his scratchy woolen coat. “I’m sorry for yelling,” I whimper.
“Do you hate me?”
    “Obviously. Why would you even ask such a
trivial question, especially when you already know the answer?” he jests with a
sly grin.
    My breathing has slowed and I feel safe
trapped in his sturdy arms. “I have to go. My exams start soon.” I grudgingly
pry myself from his grasp and meander down the lane to the university.
    “Wait,” Tate bellows. He closes the short
distance between us in a few long strides. “I’ll come with you; for luck. I
have to go to the library anyways and check out some new resources for the
SMART’s.”
    I attempt to focus on the pungent smell
of the imposing pines as they leak amber sap down their gnarled trunks. I try
to drown out the negative voices in my head with the subtle songs of the
finches as they dart through the hollow trees, but my efforts are futile. Eventually,
I condemn myself to my purgatory and observe the thoughts as they bloom into
fearful paranoia.
    Before realize it, we are at the foot of
the yellowing marble staircase that leads to the examination hall. Tate grabs
my trembling hands, and looks into my wide sapphire eyes.
    “You will do exceptionally, I know it. Be
strong, focus, and remember to breathe. You are your own worst enemy and
biggest critic, so just try to relax.” With these final words of wisdom, he
gingerly pecks my forehead and strolls towards the campus library.
    I count to three: one, two, three, and thrust
the bulky oak door aside. Surveying the endless void, I spot Nirvana along the
far side of the room. I discretely slither into the unoccupied seat beside her,
communicating a mute “good luck” with a curt nod.
    The proctor delivers his memorized
instructions and regulations, pointedly emphasizing academic honesty and
integrity. No one would dream of cheating in such a juvenile manner nowadays
anyways; everything is done behind the scenes in the bathrooms of dormitories
with a handful of vibrant pills. Finally, he meticulously deposits a brick on
each of our desks consisting of a patchwork of papers bound by a thin rubber
band. Our exams have been extracted from the plethora of ancient testing
materials stored in the filing cabinets of decaying medical schools across the
country that are now mere ghost towns. Since human physiology has remained
unchanged, the resources are repurposed and the population decline has ensured
that there are more than enough supplies to go around. All third year students
will take the same exams and classes together, the only exception being
students preparing for their SMART’s.    
    “You may begin,” booms the proctor’s
commanding baritone.
    I rip open the dense booklet, read the
first question, and begin rapidly scribbling my answer. All around me, a flurry
of movement burgeons and bubbles like an ominous brew. I ignore my
surroundings, and focus on the ivory page as words writhe and squirm before my
incredulous eyes. Easy. You can do this. I strain to overcome my impulses, and
achieve a mental acuteness that will propel me through this exercise.
    Tate’s words replay in my head, “Be
strong, focus, and remember to breathe.” I inhale deeply, contain the air, and
release it with a smooth compression of my lungs.
    “Question 2: If a patient enters the
hospital complaining of respiratory distress and mild intestinal discomfort,
what should you prescribe?” I know this. I craft a succinct answer, and
continue answering each question as if it were a mere trifle separating me from
my happiness and self-fulfillment.

 
    As I stepped boldly through the stone
arch marking the exit from the cavernous hall, the blinding sun pierces my eyes
and I squint in pain. I fumble down the stairs, and begin the arduous journey
back to the dorm with Nirvana to accompany me.
    “What are your plans for the