The silence in the room stretched tight as a rubber band. The other commissioners looked at their watches, ready to go home.

Arlis smiled. It wasn't an arrogant smile. It was the smile of a mechanic looking at an engine he knew how to fix.

"Commissioner," Arlis said, his voice calm and deep. "These ten minutes aren't a waste. They are an ROI assessment."

Reynolds' eyebrows shot up. ROI. Return on Investment. Business language. Not bureaucrat language.

"The written exam measures memory of the past," Arlis continued. "This interview is about executing the future."

He leaned forward slightly. "And as for why me? Because I'm the only person in this room who noticed the red clay on your shoes."

Reynolds froze. He looked down at his feet. The reddish mud was unmistakable against the black leather.

"That's East District clay," Arlis said. "Specifically, the soil composition found at the stalled revitalization project on 9th Avenue. Which tells me you were there this morning, inspecting the drainage failure."

The air in the room changed instantly. The boredom vanished. Commissioner Lee, a stern woman on the left, sat up straight.

Reynolds looked at Arlis with narrowed eyes. "Continue."

"I've reviewed the initial plans for that sector," Arlis said, a carefully constructed half-truth. "There were concerns raised even then about potential drainage issues during heavy rainfall. The current system is based on outdated weather models. If you don't get ahead of it before the fall rains, the basement of the new library will flood. I remember the damage from the big storm in '02; this would be worse."

Commissioner Lee grabbed her pen. She wrote something down, underlining it twice.

Reynolds leaned back, crossing his arms. "Impressive parlor trick. But let's talk ethics. Scenario: Your superior orders you to implement a policy you know is flawed. What do you do?"

It was the trap question. Say "I refuse," you're insubordinate. Say "I do it," you're a mindless drone.

Arlis didn't hesitate. "I execute the order," he said.

Reynolds frowned.

"But," Arlis added, "while executing, I collect data. If the data proves the policy is working, I learn. If the data proves I'm right and the policy is failing, I bring that data to my superior with a fully formed correction plan. I don't bring problems, Commissioner. I bring solutions backed by evidence."

Reynolds' mouth twitched. It was almost a smile.

For the next fifteen minutes, Arlis was a machine. He didn't just answer questions; he wove a narrative. When Commissioner Vance asked about education, Arlis referenced Vance's own 1998 bill on school funding. When asked about technology, he painted a picture of a digital City Hall that wouldn't exist for another decade.

"Imagine a citizen paying their taxes from their phone," Arlis said. "Imagine permits approved in hours, not weeks."

The commissioners were leaning in now. They were listening.

The assistant opened the door. "Time," she whispered.

Reynolds waved a hand without looking at her. "Let him finish."

Arlis spoke for another two minutes. He concluded with a simple statement. "I'm not here for the stipend. I'm here because this city is sleeping, and I want to help wake it up."

Silence.

Reynolds tapped his pen on the table. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Mr. Zimmerman," Reynolds said gruffly. "You're twenty-two?"

Arlis nodded. "On paper."

"You don't talk like a twenty-two-year-old."

"My age is twenty-two," Arlis said softly. "My ambition has been waiting a lifetime."

"Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman," Reynolds said.

Arlis stood up. He nodded to the panel and walked out. His legs felt like jelly, but he kept his stride steady until the heavy door clicked shut behind him.

Arlis walked into the hallway and leaned against the cool plaster wall. His shirt was soaked through with sweat under the cheap jacket.

Candidate 36 was waiting. "You were in there forever! Did they kill you?"

"Just be yourself," Arlis said, patting the kid on the shoulder.

He went to the restroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked in the mirror. His eyes were bright, predatory. The fear was gone.

Back in the interview room, chaos had erupted.

"I'm giving him a 98," Commissioner Lee stated, capping her pen. "He understands infrastructure better than the Director of Public Works."

"He's a kid," another commissioner argued. "Is he manageable?"

Reynolds looked at his score sheet. He picked up his pen. "He's not a kid. He's a shark. And we need teeth." He wrote a number. 99.

Arlis returned to the lobby. The sun was setting, casting long orange shadows across the marble floor.

Kyler and Hailee were still there. They were waiting to see the humiliation.

"Took you long enough," Kyler jeered. "Did you cry? Did you beg?"

Hailee looked at Arlis. She noticed something different. He wasn't hunched over. He looked... tall.

The large electronic board on the wall flickered.

PRELIMINARY RESULTS

The names began to scroll from the bottom up.

Rank 10... Candidate 36.

Rank 9...

Kyler crossed his arms. "Watch for the top five."

Rank 5... Kyler Craft. Score: 88.5.

Kyler pumped his fist. "Top five! I'm in!" He kissed Hailee on the cheek. "Told you."

The list continued.

Rank 2... Jacob Miller.

"Wait," Kyler frowned. "Miller was number one."

The screen flashed. The top name appeared in bold, gold letters.

RANK 1: ARLIS ZIMMERMAN - SCORE: 97.0

The lobby went dead silent.

Kyler's jaw dropped. His eyes bulged. "What? That's... that's a glitch! The system is broken!"

Hailee stared at the screen. She blinked, trying to make the letters rearrange themselves. Arlis? The guy she dumped for being a loser?

People turned to look at Arlis. The whispers started. "That's him? The guy in the gray suit?"

The elevator dinged. Commissioner Reynolds walked out. He ignored the crowd. He walked straight to Arlis.

He extended a hand. "Mr. Zimmerman. Outstanding performance. The highest score in the history of the board."

Arlis took the hand. His grip was firm. "Thank you, Commissioner. I look forward to starting."

Kyler pushed forward, his face a mask of panic. "Commissioner! I'm Kyler Craft. My father is-"

Reynolds turned on him, his eyes like ice. "Mr. Craft. This is City Hall. We hire based on merit, not lineage. Step back."

Kyler shrank back as if he'd been slapped. His face turned a deep, humiliated purple.

Hailee stepped forward, her hand reaching out. "Arlis... I..."

Arlis didn't even blink. He turned his back on her. He walked toward the glass doors, the sunset framing him in light. He didn't say a word. His silence was louder than a scream.

The bus ride home felt different. Arlis held the offer letter in his lap, his thumb brushing over the embossed city seal.

He called home. "I got it."

The scream from his mother nearly blew out the speaker.

When the bus pulled into town, Arlis saw the diner. It was draped in streamers. A haphazard sign painted on a bedsheet hung over the entrance: CONGRATS ARLIS - OUR BOY'S GOING TO CITY HALL!

He laughed, a dry, choked sound.

He walked in, and the applause hit him. Everyone stood up. Even Mrs. Gable was clapping, a fake, ingratiating smile plastered on her face.

"I always knew you were special," she cooed, patting his arm.

Arlis nodded politely. Vultures, he thought. All of them.

Dinner was steak. The best cut Frank had. Martha opened a bottle of wine covered in dust.

"We were saving this for your wedding," she said, her voice catching.

The mention of the wedding hung in the air. Hailee.

"This is better than a wedding, Mom," Arlis said, raising his glass. "This is our future."

Frank was drunk on pride and wine. "Zimmerman," he kept saying. "They're gonna know the name Zimmerman."

Later, in his room, Arlis lay in the dark. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him cold and calculating.

He needed allies. He thought of Deedee Battle. In his past life, she became the Administrative Director. Right now, she was just a clerk. He needed to find her.

His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

"Zimmerman."

"Mr. Zimmerman? This is Warren Sterling, CEO of Apex Prep."

Arlis sat up. Apex was the biggest test prep company in the state.

"I'm listening."

"Your score... 97. It's impossible. My sources at the Personnel Board are calling it a miracle. They also passed along your contact info, hoping you might be open to a business proposition. I want to buy your strategy. Exclusive rights. Name your price."

Arlis smiled in the dark. Money. He needed money.

"My strategy isn't for sale, Mr. Sterling. But my consulting services might be."

He hung up. A car engine roared outside. Tires screeched.

Arlis walked to the window. Below, a red convertible was parked haphazardly. Hailee stumbled out, looking disheveled. She was drunk.

"Arlis!" she screamed at the dark window. "Arlis, come out!"

He watched her from behind the curtain.

"You did this for me!" she sobbed. "I know you did! You're trying to prove you're good enough! Well, you proved it! Come down!"

She looked pathetic. Small.

Arlis reached out and grabbed the heavy velvet curtains. He pulled them shut, blocking out the sight of her, blocking out the sound of her voice.

He walked back to his bed and lay down. He closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, the real war began.