"Den?"
I snapped back into reality when Brinn called my name. She was over by the door; her hair was wet after just coming out of the showers. She pulled her light grey dress onto her wet body, and tossed her hair around.
"What are you thinking about?"
I sigh. Brinn was a tough girl on the outside for Sketch, but when we were alone she opened up to me. She was the same with Cindy; they were best friends ever since they were kids. I envied it at times; they never seemed to tire of each other.
"Nothing important. Where are the rest of us?" I inquired as I zipped her up at the back.
"Exercise room. I've just done an hour running, what have you been doing?"
I looked at Brinn curiously. She was being a little more nosier then usual.
"I've been sitting here staring at the wall where our window used to be. Want to join me?" I said carefully, as not to give anything away.
"Oh. No thanks; I'm going to grab something to eat. You interested?"
I shook my head, wasn't going to fall into that trap. It'll be questions most of the time from her, probably briefed by Sketch on my behaviour recently and instructed to root out the problem. She left, and I lent my back against the wall again. I got a really good stare going until Jace walked in. She looked at me in a contemptible way and sat down as she wiped sweat off her brow.
"Jace"
She looked at me with a blank face, and continued to wipe her forehead.
"What mark 06?"
"IT'S DENNIS!" I got up and yelled at her stone cold face, and into her eyes, which looked at me as if I were a lower life form, "Jace…you've lost who you are. You know me, not just as mark 06 but as a person…as a friend"
She didn't say anything, but as she turned away from the door she smiled the way she did before and whispered, 'I know'. Her face went cold again and she stood up.
"You are too emotional for your own good soldier."
Then she walked out, and I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my heart. The Jace I knew and loved was still alive, but she had used her reprogramming as a shell, everyone thought she was a new and improved soldier and I was happy to know that they were wrong.
So I went to the exercise room, greeted all my friends and worked off the feelings I felt. In a way 'soldier Jace' was right, I am too emotional. Am I faulty? Even worse, if Manticore finds out, will I be reprogrammed?
As I ran on a treadmill I focussed my eyes squarely to the small window that looked over the exercise yard and onto the perimeter fence. I could visualise myself running over the hard concrete and onto the grass, then a jump would clear me of the fence.
"MARK 6!"
I leapt off the treadmill and stood straight as Sketch marched in. He had the usual army of stiff Manticore soldiers, who eyed me up and down as the Major stopped right in front of my face.
"The rest of you are dismissed!" he yelled, not taking his eyes off mine. His breath tickled the hairs on my face and ran up my nostrils. I guess that sneezing on him would be too rude so I just stared forward, through him as my friends cleared out. He sent the other men out and stepped back a pace.
"Mark 3 seems to be concerned about your mental disposition mark 6. We observed your outburst on the security cameras. Assure me that it won't happen again."

What could I do but nod. When he dismissed me I sat alone in our room again, while the others sat in the lunch hall. It looks like I'm the outsider, not Jace…I guess that's why I'm attracting unwanted attention from Sketch.
I'm afraid that I'm heading down the same road as Jace…the fears of reprogramming float back and forth in my head. The prospect of having who you are taken away is unimaginable, like waking up one morning and not understanding who you are and what you are meant to believe in. They wiped Jace's mind as if she were a computer memory and moulded her back into their idea of a perfect soldier. I hate Sketch… I hate Manticore…I hate the servitude I was born into.
In quiet moments like this I like of my mother…the mystery sounding all our mothers fascinates me, like are they still part of this operation and do they know what we go through from day to day?

I jump as a voice comes over the intercom. It's for Jace, a female voice calls for her by name. Strange…I don't recognise it. Then Sketch's voice follows, ordering us into the main hall for oral training.

We all march in and sit at our designated desks, I see Jace sitting alone at the back…and through the blacken glass looking over the hall I see a figure…one I can't identify.
Sketch begins the briefing, or 'oral training' as he likes to call it. Basically he shows us bloody pictures of war scenes, the moments captured by a man on the sidelines as another fellow human was shot or beaten to death by another. I would retch at the site of some, but training usually keeps that in check. I don't know if the others think the same, but when I look at captions of death and war, I see nothing but like beings fighting over insignificant pieces of land. The generals ordering people to die look so narrow minded, and the government officials who are paranoid to think that they must attack to defend their beliefs before another man challenges them. They claim to fight for their country, but they don't really understand what that means…in a way neither do I. I just don't like to fight, I do it when ordered to, but unlike the men in the pictures I don't have a choice. Sketch shows us a picture of a World War 2, when Germany were under the rule of a Hitler, who wanted to purge all impurities from the German blood and land…my body goes cold at the sight of concentration camps where innocent people went to die…
I awake from my daydream, as there is a noise behind. I see the others turn their heads, so I feel safe enough to do so too. I see a tall woman remove Jace from the hall; she had dusty, sand-coloured hair and wore a long, black coat. I didn't have time to see her face before Sketch yelled for us all to turn back. He went on for a long time about war and how 'disorganised' it seemed to be, and then he told of tactics enforced by leaders of battle. I switched off, and just stared blankly forward, until Sketch cleared his throat and told us of the next activities.
"You all have had extensive combat and arms training. Now we are going to put them in practise…"