Going Home
Grif could remember what he thought. He knew now that it had been stupid; he should have known that recruiters didn't care how smart a soldier was or wasn't. But he hadn't known that then. Back then, the idea never would have occurred to him. Being smart was important to him. It kept him from going crazy. He was smart enough to see through the bullshit in the slums around him, smart enough not to do drugs or get some girl pregnant. Even though his sister was dead weight, he'd still loved her and wanted to take care of her. And he figured, All I have to do is fail this test and they'll let me go. I'll be back home in a week.
Well, it hadn't worked out that way and now he was stuck at Blood Gulch with nothing to do. Marking all the answers wrong had made sure they'd lumped him in with the other retards. Command needed a military presence on this planet, just because there was a Blue presence on this planet. So here he was. A universe away from the beach and the waves, miles away from anything surfable on this planet, and without a surf board to begin with. There was nothing to do but eat and sleep.
First he ate because he was anxious. Food comforted him. Didn't food comfort everybody? Then he ate because he was bored. Finally, after getting so many negative comments about the weight he'd gained, he ate out of spite. He hated his commanding officer and he hated his fellow private. Anything he could do to make their lives harder, he would.
When he found some place to curl up for a while and take a nap, he could go home. As soon as he closed his eyes, he could hear the surf again. He knew it wasn't real, but he didn't care. He let that sound lull him to sleep. When he was deep down enough, he fell into the cool water of the Pacific Ocean and came up bobbing in the sparkling waves, his ankle tethered to his surfboard. It had all been a dream: the draft, being shipped off-world, dumped on some barren planet in a box canyon full of idiots. He'd fallen off his board riding a wave and knocked himself out for a couple seconds. That was all.
And as long as he remained asleep, he could believe that.