I have nothing to be worried about, my thoughts are pure. I have nothing to be worried about my thoughts are pure. The mantra plays in a continuous loop in my head, yet it does little to soothe me. I gaze intently at my bare feet as I take the final step over the threshold. The transparent walls of the box make me feel bare as once The Process has begun, everyone will be able to see me for who I truly am. It will give them the ability to know me better than I know myself. I can see tens of thousands of citizens massed beneath me, and billions more are watching on TV. The citizens look tiny as The Transparent Box floats high above the ground. Taking another step onto the cool glass, I unconsciously begin to walk slower, puffing out my chest in a subconscious display of my power. None of that matters now. People can’t judge us based off looks or charisma. The winner of this election will simply be the single man or woman who has the best intentions for The United Nations of Earth.

I sit down in the hard white chair that faces out towards the public, as do the other ninety-nine of us that have been selected to run. Everything in the transparent box is white to symbolize clarity and pureness of the heart – characteristics that must be present in all The Selected. In order to become the leader of our global government, you must first pass The Process. The Process is composed of a variety of invasive questions. If you do not answer the question in a manner proving good intentions for our country, you will not pass. This will cause the cuff (present on all The Selecteds’ wrists) to turn black, taking you back to the present and allowing you to respectfully stand up and leave. It is not shameful to become disqualified as it is an honor just to be chosen as one of The Selected. Only the one hundred most eligible students in the entire world have the opportunity to step inside The Transparent Box. At the age of sixteen everyone is given an aptitude test that decides whether or not they are a potential candidate. Roughly one thousand will then go on to a special school specifically designed to train the young adults on what it takes to be a leader. From there, one hundred students with the highest ranking will become candidates for the election – The Selected.

After we have all been seated, an authoritative voice fills the box, reading the rules as is customary every year.
“When a question is asked, your brain will automatically come up with an answer,” the voice proclaims. “You cannot choose your response as people can be manipulated through words, giving a candidate the ability to influence a citizen into letting him/her pass to the next round. If someone asks a question that has already been repeated, you will not have to go through The Process again, but instead your brain will automatically give the individual the same response as before.” A pause is given for dramatic effect and with an air of finality the voice states, “The Process may now begin.”

No one ever tells you what it feels like. Maybe it’s because of how personal and invasive the questions can get.  Maybe it’s because The Process seems impossible to describe without actually experiencing it yourself. Maybe no one really thinks about the details of it until it is too late to ask.  I begin to squirm in my seat. Suddenly, it feels as though the hard chair is digging into my back and the cuff is cutting off my circulation.

Is this it? I wonder. Am I answering questions right now and I don’t even realize it? Nervous, I attempt to turn my head to look at the others facing the glass wall beside me, but it feels too heavy to move and my vision starts to blur.
I gulp, it’s starting.
Geometric figures dance across my closed eyelids in various colors and patterns. At school they would give us truth serums as a way to practice what it feels like to be in The Transparent Box. I always performed magnificently well and was able to graduate with a number two ranking, leading me to believe that although I may not win, I would get far into the questioning process. However, along with that thought was my blind assumption that the truth serum was exactly what The Process would be like. What I failed to comprehend is that being able to answer questions honestly barely scratches the surface of how invasive the process is. You may have gone your whole life believing one thing only to realize that in the deepest, darkest parts of your mind, your thoughts are not pure. With my mind floating somewhere between the public square and unconsciousness, this realization paralyzes me with fear. Maybe I’m not who I think I am. Maybe some part of me does not want what is best for this country. Maybe I am not pure. These thoughts were the last on my mind before The Process completely took over me. 

At first, all I see is blackness. Then random figures dance in front of my eyelids until I hear the first question. It’s impossible to describe, but it is as though I can feel the questions being asked. They do not appear as words on the black screen of my closed eyes. They do not sound as if they are being asked by a person sitting across from you at a table. It’s like they are coming from within me. To my joy, the questions start off easy.

“Have you ever cheated?”
“Have you ever stolen?”
“Have you ever lied?”

These are all basic questions that I was expecting to hear. Suddenly, the shapes behind my eyes spin faster and I realize that I must have committed one of these acts without my realization. I see myself in kindergarten (back before they start to teach you about pure thoughts).

“Have you already eaten your cookie?” Ms. Clementine inquired with a friendly smile.
Although I had eaten mine, the devious child in me replied with a simple, “Nope!”

When my teacher found out I had lied, I was reprimanded and quickly learned to never commit such an act again.

Fear courses through my veins. Certainly that’s not enough to disqualify me, I think hopefully. When I hear another question materialize in my head, I was filled with relief that I had not lost my chance to become leader over something so silly.

“What is your best quality?”
I knew the answer to this before the flashback even started to play – determination. Ever since I was little, I knew that becoming the world’s leader was what I wanted to do. When I made it into the leadership school it seemed as though my farfetched childhood dreams actually had the potential of becoming a reality. I studied day and night and made sure not to commit any immoral acts, yet my struggle for perfection never ended, with Piper Kast always slightly better than me. I was so disappointed when she was awarded the honor of First Selected at our graduation, yet it only motivated me more.

I see black once again as the memory from the last question fades out and another appears.

“What is your worst quality?”

Unlike before, I am not quite sure what the answer will be. Obviously, I am not perfect, but I try too hard for it to be anything too incriminating. The word flashes before my eyes – Loyalty. My head spins as the next flashback begins. At the academy, in an attempt to avoid getting my best friend, Connor Malachi, in trouble, I used my one allowed exemption to avoid my final truth serum appointment so I would not have to confess the wrong I saw him commit. I caught him copying my answers during our final history exam. For some reason, he always struggled with Ancient World Leaders. Connor could never remember leaders from the old United States of the Americas, or EuroRussian Federation, or ChinaPan. I knew it would come out during my next truth serum session.  They always ask if you know a reason any of The Selected should be dismissed.  I knew my answer would get Connor exSelected. It is hard for me to hurt those I care about, even if it’s for the good of others.
This procedure continues for roughly two more hours with no bumps, as far as I can tell, and then the rush of questions swirling in my head stop. The geometric figures disappear and I’m left with silent blackness. Is it over? Did I answer one of the questions impurely? Did I win? The only thing I know for sure is that I have no idea what is going on. I try to take deep breaths, but they come out forced and anything but relaxing. After what feels like hours of exhausting waiting, the same booming voice that read us the rules earlier appears in my head.

“Congratulations, you have made it to the final question!” He proclaims.

My heart floods with relief that I made it this far, but shivers in anticipation of what is next. The majority of the people have already been disqualified.  After this question only one remains, and I am determined to be the one. If I pass this, I will become the sole leader of the United Nations of Earth! The final question clouds my mind and I am taken back for my last flashback.

A bright light fills my vision and I squint, happy that I can finally open my eyes. I look down at my wrist to see that my cuff is still white. It is impossible to stop the smile from spreading across my face. This is it, I think. I am the new leader of the free world! The crowd stays silent causing a new rush of fear to overpower me. Why are they not cheering my name? Applause should fill the air as it does after every election. Do they dislike me already? Is that even possible? My heart pounds even harder than it did before The Process began. I look around in an attempt to grasp what is occurring. That’s when it happens. Our eyes lock and fill with simultaneous confusion.

“Please welcome your two new leaders, Samuel Sandford and Piper Kast!” the loud voice says with noticeable confusion beneath feigned enthusiasm. Scattered applause starts in the back and grows weakly before awkwardly petering out.  I’m stunned. The crowd is stunned. Never, not once in the 800 year history of the United Nations of Earth, have there been two leaders.