THE IMPOSSIBLE TEST

The alarm clock rattled and rang. It dredged William up from the depths of delta wave sleep and deposited him on the deck of wakefulness. He sat up immediately and swung his stiff, bent legs off the side of the bed. Then he paused. Hitting snooze hadn’t even crossed his mind this time. That was good. Mentally, he gave himself a thumbs-up. He wanted to be punctual. He hadn’t been fired for his tardiness, but, he’d definitely been passed up for a promotion. It wasn’t about money, though. It wasn’t about impressing the boss or following rules. He wanted to be punctual. He wanted that character trait. It was one of many on his list.

William transferred from the bed to his wheelchair and pushed himself toward the bathroom. Then he turned back. He almost forgot his morning ritual again. He woke up the way he wanted. He was determined to go through this day the way he wanted. He had to prove to himself that he was ready for the test.

He rolled up to the nightstand. First, he scanned a sheet of paper covered with his own handwriting, his list. It defined the character traits or virtues he sought to embody and had notes on how to deal with difficult situations like going out with coworkers or being home alone. In those situations, more than in others, he struggled to live the way he wanted.

He rolled up to the nightstand. First, he scanned a sheet of paper covered with his own handwriting, his list. It defined the character traits or virtues he sought to embody and had notes on how to deal with difficult situations like going out with coworkers or being home alone. In those situations, more than in others, he struggled to live the way he wanted.

Next, he grabbed his leather armband. He had it embossed with the symbol of The Deep. The customization was expensive, but it was worth it to remind himself who he was trying to be. As he secured the armband, he repeated the mantra: “Those who are controlled by nothing but their principles: no fear, no force, no feeling, no falsehood. Those who take responsibility for everything under their influence: every thought, every word, every motion, every potential.”

Then he gripped the bars on his wheels and shoved, gliding into the bathroom. Everything was harder in a wheelchair. Everything was more steps. Hence the need to wake up so early. He felt like he should be used to it after almost three years, but, even now, he felt the urge to curse something or complain. Instead, he forced himself to give thanks. It was no small miracle that he was alive at all after running over a land mine. Contentment was another trait on his list.

He didn’t have suicidal thoughts anymore, so that was a step toward contentment. Losing his ability to walk, career path, and community felt like the end. He found himself living in a lonely apartment and subsisting off disability compensation. He had no motivation, no vision. What happened to the stubborn, ambitious kid who thought he could make it in the Major League? That didn’t happen, but he still had his sights set high when he enlisted in the army.

The military breaks you down. It breaks down your lifestyle, preferences, and inhibitions. It breaks down your individual identity, sense of fairness, and willingness to rebel. That’s the point of boot camp. They break you down so that they can build you back up physically and psychologically. The problem is that they make you controllable, not self-controlled. When the sergeants and lieutenants aren’t there to direct you anymore, what do you do? William did nothing.

Two people broke him out of that daze. The first was a fellow vet he met by chance. The man explained, “As you move up the ranks and are put in charge of things, you gain some autonomy, and you figure out principles to use that. You were discharged at the awkward point when all your old principles have been destroyed, but you haven’t had the authority to develop new ones. Yeah, you’re screwed.” Maybe it wasn’t the most encouraging quote, but William had written it down and put it up on his fridge. It showed him what was missing: meaningful principles.

The second was a woman more disabled than him. She had one working limb, but he saw her laughing with friends. Then he overheard her say, “We have a saying like that in the deep.” The Deep. William had heard one rumor at that point. Researching The Deep became an obsession over the next month. Then it became an ambition. Learning that there was an impossible test to become a member made his stubborn, ambitious heart beat again.

William gave thanks for those two encounters as he drove to work. His life looked so different now. He was going to work! And afterward, he would see Abigail one last time before the test.

This was the fruit of fifteen months of psychological and spiritual training. He had moved here to get away from his old ruts, bad friends, and poor reputation. Here, he made it a point to befriend people who would challenge him. That’s how he met Abby. Another part of the training was thinking through what he understood about morality and philosophy, thinking it through again, and then rethinking it a few more times. He had devised a routine with rituals throughout the day to remind himself of his principles. Some of the rituals he still used though he no longer needed them. That meant it was time. He remembered slogging through his first day with all the rituals and then collapsing on his bed psychologically exhausted. Right then, he determined that when he could stay true to his principles without the rituals he would be ready for the impossible test. He didn’t feel ready.

William was nervous. He had applied for the test two weeks ago. The acceptance letter arrived three days later. It provided some preliminary instructions and a date and time to be at the nearest node, or meeting place, of The Deep: 7 pm, tomorrow.

Despite two meetings and a team lunch, William was proud of how he handled work today. He was efficient, didn’t roll his eyes at his manager’s clueless comments, and steered meaningless small talk into a meaningful conversation—a work buddy opened up about feeling isolated. He wouldn’t be able to travel to see his family this Thanksgiving, so William promised to help him host a Friendsgiving.

He knew he couldn’t tell Abby about the impossible test—that was the first rule of the test—but he warned her that he would have someone staying with him for the next week or two. She had questions naturally, most of which he could not answer, but he assured her that nothing was wrong or dangerous.