Daniel Cotton just did not get it. He did not want to get it. And he would never get it. This he knew. If only that. But he knew it.

Then again, maybe he did get it. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he did in fact get it after all.

He hated not knowing.

He sat at a tiny little table in his small house eating corn flakes and staring at a history book. He was cramming for a test and a sense of futility hung in the air of the kitchen. A mountain of facts and figures lay between him and any hope of making a good grade. He desperately read and reread the paragraph in an attempt to wedge a few more nuggets of information into his brain.

"'And when the time of The Rescue occurred, tribunals from each of the Five Territories gathered in the ashes of Philadelphia to discuss the terms of the Alliance. Of these, only four were represented by Champions,'" Daniel read aloud in a serious voice. "'Only four were represented by Champions...'"

The words made no sense to him anymore. He knew the history of the Great Fight in a broad sense. Everyone did. But the details confounded him. He slammed the book shut. If he didn’t know it by now he never would, he told himself. He sat with that for a moment. But then he opened the book again. One more fact—maybe it would make a difference. He read the page. He already knew that. It reassured him. Maybe it was going to be okay.

His grandfather came in to the small room.

“Test today?”

“History.”

"Hmmpf— someday I'll tell you the real history of this place."

Daniel just sat quietly eating his cereal. Why bother? He closed the history book and looked at his grandfather. He took another bite of his corn flakes and got up from the table. His grandfather got his own bowlful.

"Good luck," said his grandfather as Daniel went out the door. "Just remember it's all bunk."

It was a cloudy day in the town. Daniel walked down the sidewalk past the other houses that made up his neighborhood. Each house looked exactly the same: small, single-story, painted off-white, with a tiny yard. They lacked any distinction save for their particular degree of disrepair. They were not meant to be permanent but they were no longer temporary.

Daniel could see people stirring and preparing for the day. Other kids his age passed out of their houses. Not everyone had a test today but the ones that did had the same sense of seriousness hanging over their heads. Phillip exited his front door staring at a lined piece of notebook paper, repeating "93,000 dead" over and over like a mantra. Daniel didn’t recognize that particular fact and felt even worse. Daniel walked alongside Phillip as he pored over the paper.

They walked past the main square. Right in front of them was a tiny little girl crying her eyes out. She was probably about three— maybe four. It would be another year before she would start school but she was likely in a care group. She probably just wandered off and was lost. Phillip just kept walking, oblivious and wouldn’t stop if he did see the little girl. But Daniel felt compelled. He put out his hand and the little one took it with just the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said, and gently dragged the little crying girl forward.

Going have to stop that crying pretty soon, Daniel thought. They’re not going to like that when you get into school. Aw well, get it out now.

A group of six five-year olds gathered around Reverend Agatha, a handsome woman in her 70’s. The little girl seemed to perk up a bit. Daniel let her go and she darted over to Reverend Agatha without so much as a look back.

That’s fine, thought Daniel. But he stopped for just a moment to make sure she was settled in with the group.

“Gather, children, to hear a tale of betrayal and valor tested, “ Reverend Agatha began her sermon to the five year olds. They were huddled around her outside in the main square next to the Statues of the Champions. Daniel listened.

“Consider the bravery and strength of our leader, Commander Freedom,” Agatha continued. She spoke in a strong voice and the five year olds looked up and stopped and listened.

“When our leader was called to assist the alien Quadju, did he hesitate to aid this stranger?” she asked and paused.

The five year olds stared at her, feeling the pull of the call and response but too terrified that they might say the wrong answer to utter anything but silent murmurs.

“No, he did not,” she said, to general relief. “Did he question the good intentions of this alien visitor?”

A slight pause. A slight sense of dread and terror of the unknown reply.

“Of course, he did,” she continued. The five year olds were beginning to get the hang of this. They were less uneasy and paid careful attention.

Daniel watched. He used to belong to the Church but when his mom and dad died and his grandfather started taking care of him, he never went anymore. “They’re brainwashing you, “ his grandpa said and that was the end of it. But Daniel remembered this lesson.

“Our brave Commander was no fool. He could sense that Quadju was a friend. He knew he could trust him. He knew it in his gut. He knew it in his soul,” Reverend Agatha continued.

She let this settle into the five-year olds for a moment.

“He trusted this alien like a brother. This visitor from another world. The Commander sensed a kindred spirit.”

The five year olds looked up with puzzlement at this phrase.

“So let me pause now to consider the great trust that Commander Freedom placed in a stranger. And consider this in contrast to a trust betrayed. Dr. Kilraven, who Commander Freedom considered an ally and friend…”

Reverend Agatha looked up as she spoke and caught Daniel’s eye. He averted his gaze and walked away. He had heard this story before. Everyone heard that story. Daniel wished that he could be five again. That he could start over. He was thirteen and everything would be decided soon. Perhaps today— in just a few hours. He thought about that as he strolled through the Tribute to the Heroes. He walked past the massive stone statues of the defenders of liberty and justice. One lady was even kneeling down in front praying—Mrs. Dora. She was a constant friend to Reverend Agatha since Mr. Dora died and Daniel was not surprised to see her.

“Crazy churchy lady,” Grandpa had called her. “Mrs. Dora praying to a statue!” Grandpa said those people were just wasting their time, worshiping the Champions. “They may have powers but they aren’t gods and they sure as hell weren’t listening to that lady’s prayers,” Grandpa said.

Daniel knew he had to get to class but as he passed the statues, he stopped. The statues made the Champions much bigger than normal folk. Daniel wondered just how big the Champions really were. They must be pretty big, he decided for the hundredth time. Commander Freedom stood in the center, holding a gun and a flag. His mask covered his face but his wide confident grin showed through. The smile was infectious—Daniel liked it. He could just imagine the Commander saying, “Let’s go kill those Dreadknights, boys!” Next to him, tall Lady Victory stood her ground with a stone-cold stare and her Death Ray. Conquest the Giant stood behind her with his perpetual growling face. Flanking the Commander on the other side was Professor Mechanique, the Whisper, and Mr. Menace. Daniel knew them all. He had read about them in school and done reports on each one—about their powers, their origins, their service to the Alliance in the Great Fight, and their inspiration to every citizen. Mainly he thought about how many robots they must have killed.

“Getting a hard-on for Lady Victory, Dan?” Shawn screamed from across the street. Mrs. Dora bolted up.

“Blasphemer!” she cried. “That child insults the Saviors! Yes, you boy! I see you, Shawn Blackstone!”

Shawn immediately ran.

“Foul-mouthed boy,” Mrs. Dora said to Daniel. “You pay no attention to him, young man. His mind is full of filth.”

“Yeah, yeah—you’re right,” Daniel said hoping to sound agreeable. He didn’t want to talk to her but knew that if he were rude he would have to listen to an earful. He knelt done by the plaque. It read:

IN HONOR OF THOSE CHAMPIONS WHO LOST THEIR LIVES IN SACRIFICE. AND TO THOSE WHO SHALL RISE AGAIN.

Daniel noticed that Mrs. Dora had placed flowers along the border of the plaque. He closed his eyes and pretended to say a prayer. He remembered it was Savior’s Day.

“Happy Savior’s Day, Mrs. Dora,” he said.

“Child, that isn’t for a month yet,” Mrs. Dora looked at him with a funny eye.

“Got to remember it everyday, right?” Daniel deflected. He knew that anybody else would have smacked him for such a corny phrase but he was pretty sure she would buy it.

“We must never forget their sacrifice,” she smiled, taking his hand.

Daniel sat still and let her hold his hand. It was an old-lady hand. It was so cold and boney and what if Shawn saw? But he sat for just a moment. He couldn’t leave. It would be rude and that would be even worse than being friends with a blasphemer. He counted to twelve.

“I better go to school, Mrs. Dora. I’ve got a test,” Daniel said, realizing he had the perfect excuse.

“Oh, yes. One of the Worthy,” she suddenly perked up. “Good luck, young man. May the Saviors watch over you.”

“Yeah, I gotta go,” Daniel exclaimed. He hoped he didn’t sound too relieved.

He got up and walked down the street. As he hurried to catch up with the others, he was happy to have at least passed the superheroes. It was a long time since his mother told him that the ghosts of the Champions watched over him. But he was still secretly superstitious and thought that passing them might bring him some good luck.

Shawn was waiting for him up the road. Daniel hated Shawn on test days. Shawn never seemed to study. He remembered everything. Skinny, though, thought Daniel. That’s some consolation. Shawn was as thin as a blade of grass and though he would ace every test, he would never pass the physical exams so had very little chance of getting a high enough P score for enhancement. At best he might qualify to be a telepath, Daniel thought smugly. And who would want that: reading thoughts all day?

The growing gaggle of students trudged silently up to the gleaming Territory Five Fortress. It was a pure white box, massive and imposing. It stood about 20 stories high. Inside it was the school, the assembly hall, the armory, the power station, and the local headquarters of the Alliance. It was in the center of the town and was the first structure built there and would be the last if any disaster— natural or super— should occur. Daniel and the boys walked into the huge structure. Daniel was filled with a vague sense of dread.

Inside the white cube, the students were guided by illuminated lines showing them the way as they walked to their classroom. As always the chairs were arranged in a circle sitting atop a slightly-raised platform. Mr. Trotter, their teacher was not there yet. Daniel found his chair and sat. For a moment he closed his eyes. His mind seemed empty. He wondered what he had actually retained from last night's marathon study session.

"Ready?" asked Joaquin as he sat down in his chair.

"No," said Daniel. But maybe he would be. Maybe his studying had paid off. It was hard to tell, really. These things usually worked out better than he thought they would. The other students trickled in.

"Students," Mr. Trotter’s voice boomed as he entered. Mr. Trotter was a tall, imposing man with a bald head and a thick moustache. It was easy to make cartoons of him because all you really needed to do was draw a circle and a bushy moustache and some eyes and you were pretty much done.

"Good morning, Mr. Trotter," the students said.

"I hope you're all prepared for the test,” Mr. Trotter said as he sat down, pulling out his view-screen and typing on his keypad. “I don’t have to remind you that this test counts for twenty-five percent of the semester’s coursework. It will have a significant effect on your Potential Score. Please pull up your view-screens and begin.”

The other students dutifully pressed the buttons on their chairs and their view-screens appeared in front of them. Daniel pulled up his—the screen lit up and questions began to appear.

“Daniel Cotton— begin test for Chapter Twelve,” a voice from the screen said.

Daniel sat in terror – he had studied for Chapter Thirteen.