I look around idly; pretending to listen to 130 talking about the excitement of joining third year and nod at appropriate times but my mind is somewhere else. My eyes roam astray until they fix on our school sign and they've changed it. The sign used to read 'The Military Policing School' in black writing with a white background but now it is in thin white italics with a black background. I start thinking about the word 'school'; I don't think of this place as a school, I live here, eat here, learn here, train here and I don't remember a time that I wasn't behind these gates. I look just beyond the gates and all I see are trees, we're surrounded by trees.
My eyes shift to my hand and staring back at me is the number 145; it's my form of identification as we don't use names here. It was tattooed on me the day I came here, it's my first memory that I can recollect. People say that before being tattooed everyone had their memories wiped with an injection. The theory is that it was probably an injection because the first thing that anyone remembers was feeling the pain of the tattoo on the back of our wrists and a small pain in our neck, like a scratch. So, no one has any real recollection of anything before getting their tattoo. No one remembers anything other than being behind the gates staring at me now. I'm not bitter about it though; I really like living here, here is all I know and all I live for but… I just wish I could remember something, anything about my life before this tattoo. I drop my hand and tune into the conversation.
'145, what are you most excited about?' 130 asks, noticing I'm not paying attention to his speech.
'Probably… the missions or advanced combat lessons' I reply in a dull tone.
'I don't understand why you're upset?' 130 accuses me, 'is it because 48 left?' 48 was a girl who left the program in the 'Next Step' ceremony we had just left. In this ceremony each student decides whether to have a future outside the program or follow the path of professional assassination. It's offered to students who have completed the compulsory stage of the program and are fully trained; I am not fully trained yet. I thought it was a shame that 48 decided to leave, she had talent. She's also a good friend of mine and was my training partner for two years but I always had my suspicions that she would leave. She didn't think assassination was for her, not long-term anyway.
'What? Are you upset, over a peace lover!?' 147 looks at me with disgust; a 'peace lover' is a sneering nickname for people who leave the program. I think it is to do with the fact that they're usually against killing or just against the program in general but I don't think 48 was like that.
'That 'peace lover' used to be your friend as well… try and remember that' I retort bitterly; 147 annoys me sometimes, I really hate her disloyalty.
'Stop bickering! We can't waste our time talking about people who don't agree with The Master's plan or whatever reason 48 had for leaving' 130 rolls his eyes and continues to retell stories he's heard about what third year is like.
Our schooling process is slightly different to others outside the program, in our first year at the age of 12 we go through standard education learning 11 subjects; Maths, English, Triple Science, Geography, History, Computing, two Languages in my case French and Spanish and lastly Combat. In our second year which lasts for two years so from aged 13 to 15 we learn; Maths, English, one language, Computing and Combat by the end of these two years we are expected to know that language fluently. Entering our third year which again is two years so from aged 16 to 18 we learn; Maths, another language from scratch or the second language learnt in first year and Combat. By this stage we are learning Combat and enhancing our skills to the point where we can use them in real life missions. These are tasks that help the people living outside the gates.
Ultimately we are being trained for our final year or fourth year which is two years long separated into a final year of academics. The second year focuses on strength and agility in combat and it's also the year we have to make the decision whether to become a full time assassin for The Government or choose to leave and live your own life, which is highly frowned upon but nevertheless allowed.
We enter the dormitory building and head towards our colour sector which we picked the first day we got here. I remember being asked whether to pick a colour out of black, white, green, blue and orange and I picked black which decided that I was in the black sector. Little did I know that the question was a test; picking the black sector typically reflects the qualities you possessed before entering the program. The black sector students tend to be favoured by The Masters because of their bravery and aggression. 130 also picked black and so did his girlfriend 147, having all the people with similar personalities in the same dormitory meant that people made friends only within their own sector.
I enter my room that I share with 130 and relax on my bed. I wonder whether our rooms would seem strange to other boys of our age, we have a black door, black bed posts with a white mattress and white bedding and a cream carpet with a black bedside lamp. If I'm being honest I'm getting sick of the colour black but I would hate it a lot more if it were in either the green or orange sectors.
'What do we have first lesson 130?' I ask wondering whether I have to put on my combat clothes or my uniform.
'Double Combat and then we have a free double period' he replies. Combat clothes then.
'What are we going to do during the free period?'
'I was thinking we could go and see the fourth years and see what they're doing' he replied changing into his combat clothes.
'Sounds good' I take my top off and look for my combat clothes, 'what do you think combat will be like this year?'
'Well, we're going to train with the rest of the sectors this year' 130 rolls his eyes.
'How er – colourful' I joke and 130 starts laughing.
'I think we all have the same combat gear so it won't be as colourful as you think, I think it's to make us look equal or something' he scoffs.
'I wonder if they'll be any good' I ask hungry for some more competition in my combat class.
'Doubt it, we have the best teachers. Everybody knows that' 130 shrugs.
'Alright, I'm done. Let's go' I tuck my white polyester t-shirt with 145 embroidered on it into my black shorts, the combat rooms are fairly hot so there is never a need for trousers but there is one supplied and a long sleeve top which 130 has decided to wear today. Both tops really cling to the body; allowing little room for breathing but aids easy movement.
We head out of our room and the bell rung throughout the hallway which meant that the lesson was about to start. 130 normally doesn't care about being late but today he ran towards the elevator at the end of our hall and repeatedly pressed the button, calling the elevator. I followed shortly behind him feeling the roughness of the carpet as we are bare footed. The elevator took us to the correct floor and we walked towards our combat room. The room was shiny white with grey mats and grey dummies dotted around the room, from the corridor you can see inside the whole room perfectly as the window is glass. As suspected, we were late.