[ WP ] Every person in the world undergoes a `` goodness '' test . It 's designed to give a score from 1 to 200 , where 1 is pure evil , and 200 is an angel in human body . Then the world is divided into 200 zones , where people can live among their own kind .

The clinic was a dreary place filled with the palpable atmosphere of mounting dread. It was probably some converted abortion clinic – never intended, really, to be cheerful. Whatever it had once been, it was certainly now a place of endings. The walls were a drab and dingy white, populated here and there with pathetically tasteless hotel art. 
 
 Besides me, there were several other people in the lobby waiting to have their test administered. My gaze wandered from face to face as I peered over the pages of a badly out-of-date Good Housekeeping that I was doing a terrible job of pretending to read. Everyone seemed despondent. No one wanted to take the test, they just had to. Only the worst was assumed of people who failed to appear for their test. People like that were arrested or shot in short order. 
 
 There was a couple just a few seats down from me. To alleviate the dread and boredom of waiting for my name to be called, I eavesdropped on their hushed conversation. 
 
 “ …I ’ ll love you no matter what. ” 
 
 “ But what if we don ’ t get the same result? We ’ ll never see each other again. I won ’ t let that happen. I can ’ t let that happen. ” 
 
 “ Shh… Don ’ t say things like that. You never know who ’ s listening. ” 
 
 “ I don ’ t care who ’ s listening! I love you and I ’ m not going to let them separate us. ” 
 
 “ It ’ s not going to happen. Look, we ’ re both white, we come from good Christian families, we have solid jobs and we ’ ve been living together for years. We ’ re gon na get the same result. Let ’ s not jump to conclusions. ” 
 
 I felt a rising tide of panic – to the point where it was almost a relief when a nurse popped her head into the room and called my name. I plopped my Good Housekeeping back onto the battered table and approached the nurse. 
 
 “ Uh… yeah… that ’ s me. ” 
 
 “ This way, ” she said, with zero warmth or preamble. I followed. 
 
 “ Busy day? ” I asked, mainly out of a nervous compulsion to break the tense silence between us. 
 
 She gave me a sidelong glance. “ Do you know how many people live in this city? ” 
 
 “ Not exactly. ” 
 
 “ Almost 400,000 at the last census. And we have to test all of them. So, yes, we ’ ve been very busy. ” 
 
 “ What about you? Have you been tested? ” 
 
 “ Clinic staff go last. ” 
 
 “ Lucky you. ” 
 
 She just kind of chuckled sardonically, ushering me into a small examination room. “ Step onto the scale. ” 
 
 She collected a number of preliminary measurements in silence, and finally the moment I ’ d been dreading arrived. 
 
 “ I ’ m going to draw your blood now, ” she said. “ I ’ ll be able to submit the sample right away and we ’ ll have your results within just a few minutes. I ’ ll wait with you until the results arrive. Once they do, I ’ ll be able to advise you on the next steps you ’ ll need to take. Are you ready? ” 
 
 I felt that I had no real choice in the matter. If I answered no, the best I could hope for was a five-minute reprieve. “ Yes, ” I said, “ as ready as I ’ ll ever be. ” 
 
 She prepared her needle and I closed my eyes before the point of injection. I hate needles. The pain was sharp and cold and uncomfortable – but it was over before I knew it. She seemed to have a deft hand for this sort of thing. 
 
 I opened my eyes and glimpsed the blood-filled syringe as she removed the needle and placed it in a bag with my name and social security number on it. 
 “ Just a moment, ” she said, “ I ’ m going to hand this off to the lab tech and I ’ ll be right back. ” 
 
 She was only gone for a moment, long enough for me to process that this was all actually happening, and then she was back. She was holding a clipboard and a pencil. 
 
 “ While your sample is being analyzed, I ’ m going to ask you some questions to try and help manage your expectations. We find that this greatly helps people adjust to life after receiving their results. ” 
 
 “ Okay. Ask away. ” 
 
 “ First, I ’ d like to ask, what do you know about this test already? I ’ ve found it useful to dispel any misunderstandings right at the outset. ” 
 
 “ Well, I guess it ’ s supposed to be a test to see how good or evil people are. Based on their genes or something. People get assigned new places to live based on their results. ” 
 
 “ Yes, that ’ s right. Due to prison overcrowding and an overall rise in crime across the world, the Government is undertaking a broad project to dramatically reform the criminal justice system. This test is fundamental to that effort. Based on your results, you will be assigned to a community with all those who share your inherent potential for good or evil. You ’ ve probably heard many justifications for this system, but I ’ d like you to share with me why you think this change is being made. ” 
 
 “ Honestly? ” 
 
 “ The more honest you are, the more effective this advising session will be. ” 
 
 My mind ran over the many reasons to hold back. Not the least of which was my suspicion that this interview was, in fact, the test, and that it ultimately had nothing to do with either my genes or my “ inherent ” disposition toward good or evil. 
 
 “ I think we ’ re giving up. ” 
 
 “ Interesting, ” said the nurse, scribbling something on her clipboard. “ Why do you say that? ” 
 
 “ Because people are so afraid of each other they ’ ve forgotten that they can learn from each other. Also, I think the idea that people have some genetic predisposition toward good or evil is completely absurd. ” 
 
 More scribbling. “ Please, explain. ” 
 
 “ Good and evil only exist in contrast to one another. We perceive evil only so we can believe ourselves to be good by comparison. And it ’ s pretty well-known that ideas about good and evil differ from culture to culture. Genes don ’ t make a person moral or immoral – society does. ” 
 
 The nurse nodded her head sympathetically. “ Yes, moral relativism. That ’ s certainly a valid argument that many people make when they come here to be tested. Research has shown, however, that our genes carry the experience of all our ancestors. All their trauma, all their crimes and their kindnesses, encoded in our very bodies. To borrow phrasing from certain Eastern religions, we have discovered a genetic basis for Karma. While you may be right that the nature of wrong-doing is defined by individual cultures, the inclination to engage in wrong-doing transcends the details of any specific act. That is what our test measures. ” 
 
 “ So, what, the people with the highest score are on the verge of Nirvana? ” 
 
 “ Not exactly. At least not in medical terms. But they are, generally speaking, more relaxed, mentally healthy, and predisposed toward acts of kindness rather than violence. Unfortunately, studies show that these individuals are often the victims of a variety of crimes that negatively affect their ability to successfully reproduce. We ’ re hoping this program will change that unfortunate reality. ” 
 
 “ And, by contrast, decrease the odds of a Karmically ‘ less pure ’ individual from reproducing. ” 
 
 “ Well, that may be the case, yes. But the world can no longer afford the politically correct sympathy that has been afforded to such individuals in the past. We simply do not have the resources. ” 
 
 I sighed. Being honest was getting me nowhere. This nurse probably had some kind of script she was following to respond to every objection. In any event, the Government had all the power. The alternative to taking the test and accepting the consequences of the results was not one I was willing to contemplate. 
 
 “ That being said, how do you think you ’ ll do on this test? Scores range from one to two-hundred, with one being completely evil and two-hundred being completely good. ” 
 
 “ I don ’ t know… a hundred? Maybe a ninety or a hundred ten? ” 
 
 The nurse nodded, scribbling. “ Yes, that ’ s a very normal response. Most people tend to consider themselves very average on this scale. Let me ask you, though, because the results should be back any moment, how would you feel if your score was between one and fifty, somewhere in the evil range? What would a result like that mean for you? ” 
 
 I wanted to say, “ that the test is wrong, ” but I didn ’ t. For all I knew, I could be carrying around some ugly Karma. I could be evil to my core, constantly sublimating my dark urges in all kinds of ways. I mean, why else would I have such an extensive collection of guitar picks? I don ’ t even play guitar. And there was that one time I laughed at my best friend in sixth grade when he shit his pants in the cafeteria in front of everyone. That was pretty evil. 
 
 But the test, though, that was definitely evil. Regardless of anything that may have been hidden deep inside my subconscious, the test was evil and I could feel it in my bones. The Government was lying about everything and I knew it. I was going to be the whistle blower on this thing, blow the whole rotten affair wide open. 
 
 “ I guess, if I got a score that low, it would mean that I ’ m more evil than I thought, ” I finally decided to say. “ Do a lot of people get results between one and fifty? ” 
 
 “ It ’ s fairly rare. There seems to be a bell curve in the results. But, that being said, it does happen with some regularity in big city like this. ” 
 
 “ Well, then, I guess I would find some evil friends, maybe an evil girl to hang around with, it probably wouldn ’ t be that bad. ” 
 
 “ Hmmm… I haven ’ t quite heard that response yet, ” the nurse said, taking her notes. “ Life isn ’ t exactly easy in those communities. Remember, they have done away with almost all police – and there are no prisons there either. People just do what they do to each other and life goes on. ” 
 
 “ Well, there ’ s a certain freedom in that, isn ’ t there? ” 
 
 The nurse looked thoughtful and seemed about to reply when there was a knock on the door. 
 
 “ I ’ ll get that, ” she said. 
 
 When she turned back to face me, her eyebrows were raised in astonishment. “ Well! ” she uttered. “ You are full of surprises, aren ’ t you? ” 
 
 “ What do you mean? What ’ d I get? ” 
 
 “ You got a 200! I have to tell you, that is very, very rare. Congratulations! ” 
 
 There were about 10-minutes of follow-up conversation to which I paid very little attention. My mind was reeling. I left the clinic feeling like I was floating on air, clutching a brochure that I wasn ’ t even aware had been handed to me. 
 
 As I settled into my car, I knew one thing for sure. The test was definitely broken. But somehow, I just didn ’ t care anymore. It was someone else ’ s problem now.
