Five Hundred Twenty-Three
Each day you woke from your bed was a new opportunity to serve your country. Those were the words that came to my mind the moment the daily alarm pulled me from another night of dreamless sleep. All around me the other members of my specific squad rose in unison, each of us falling to the floor and beginning the daily training regimen that had been carved into our minds.
Each push-up was done in time with the group, any flaw in the form of the individual would see them shunned from the group, there was no room for anything but perfection. In this way the squad was made as one unified being rather than a collective. The only individuality was the numbers given to us, and those could be taken and changed from us at any time at the pleasure of those in charge.
The exercises ended and the squad came to attention as one, waiting until a project lead entered. The moment they did an inspection was held, looking over each of us and our living quarters before dismissing the group to clean our bodies and take in our first meal of the day.
The food was a bland and tasteless high nutrient paste served over rice, with multiple vitamins taken as well. Each serving size was the same, each bite taken done so within the same moment, and within moments the meal was finished, the trays were stacked, and the group moved to the training room.
Each day was the same, if there was no mission to be done the squad would train, taking only small breaks to ensure that the group's body wouldn't be overworked. If one member was injured the rest of the squad would shun them until they were back in full working order and prepared to rejoin the movement of the group.
Those who fell were no longer part of the group, they must be ignored in order to complete the task ahead. Nothing mattered aside from the orders given, only in unity was there strength.
Eventually the day's training came to an end, a whistle blown by a supervisor and a surprise order given. The squad was to clean themselves again and meet in the large staging area for a message from a party leader. These sort of events were rare in the grand scheme of things, a high ranking member of the government would come and speak to them of their purpose.
A pointless endeavor their trainers whispered, as the collective had no need for anything but their orders. But the group obeyed regardless, as we are naught but an extension of the will of the state.
Once preparations were complete the group moved into the large staging area, those who had been injured during training had either been healed and rejoined the group or were absent. Where they were was of no concern, if they weren't with the group they didn't exist. Injury and weakness would not be allowed, the group must remain a single unified entity.
Around the squad other groups made their way in, each moving in perfect step and filling the area. The only sound was their feet against the floor, no need to push or speak as each member knew where they were meant to be.
Once the room was filled a number of lights fell down on a raised stage, revealing two figures. The first was a young woman with bright blonde hair, and from my vantage point I could make out something else in it, akin to feathers. She was a Westerner, though beyond that I couldn't place an origin for her.
However the figure behind her was much more noteworthy, dressed in traditional red and gold qipao with long black hair hung about her shoulders. Her face was serine and beautiful, like a painting brought to life. By her side sat a beautifully crafted erhu, the bow of which was laid across her lap.
Seeing the instrument brought memories back, soft sounds echoing throughout my home…
No this was my home, any other thoughts would lead to being separated from the group. And yet a sense of nostalgia I couldn't bring myself to fully collapse took hold of me.
The Westerner began to speak, however any knowledge of English was strictly forbidden amongst the members of the Yàngbǎn. But the moment she finished speaking she instead began to sing, and as she did the woman in the dress began to play the erhu next to her, perfectly harmonizing with the song.
I saw some of the squads start to move when the first notes began, no doubt thinking that this was an enemy attack, but those first steps petered out into nothingness once the song began to pick up.
The melody was intoxicating, the words were divine, it was impossible to really describe how they made me feel. But more importantly than what I felt was the memories it brought to mind.
My brothers and sisters playing in the fields helping our parents plant. Father watching with a kind smile and laugh on his face, while mother tried to get us to focus on the task. I remembered teaching my younger sibling how to count and reading them stories on the days where our parents were too tired to do much else than prepare food for us.
I remembered worrying that my family would hate me when I broke one of the more expensive tools, and the elation I felt when my tears were brushed away and I was told how silly I had been to think they would stop loving me. Small moments and large, tiny fragments of my life from before I had been brought here.
Tears came to my eyes, and I found myself pulling off my mask and bringing my fingers to them. Around me I heard people wailing in agony, choked sobs exploding from those who had been trained to resist all forms of torture. But this song wasn't an attack, it was a plea to remember who we were.
I had come to my power after a horrible accident in the fields, a piece of machinery had broken and pinned me against a stone, but after a terrible moment I had pushed it away with strength beyond what my body should have been able to perform. Hours later I had been pulled from my family by enforcers so that I might become useful to the party.
The first days I had screamed for my family, and in return I had been beaten, starved, and had my mind rewritten to become another tool in the party's grand vision. But that isn't who I am. With this song I remember.
My name isn't Five Hundred and Twenty-Three.
"My name is… Yang Hu." the words escaped my mouth without thought. I remember my mother had chosen that name, the name of a scholar in hopes that I would grow up bright and successful. I had taken pride in it, always working hard well into the night.
All around I heard others begin to say their own names, a music of chaos that was only silenced by the song finishing and a new figure making themselves known atop the stage.
This new figure was another Westerner, an old man leaning on a cane whose eyes seemed to view the entire hall and yet also met the eyes of each person within. The sheer weight of his presence was difficult to describe, even those party leaders that had come before to speak before the assembled members hadn't held such weight by simply standing.
When he spoke it was in Mandarin, containing a hint of a dialect I couldn't place. "Each of you has suffered in the name of those who promised to only keep your best interests at heart. Whether citizen or foreigner to these lands they reduced your humanity to nothing in service of their goals,"
The crowd answered his words with loud calls of agreement, transfixed from the music and the presence of the man.
"Today I return the most precious gift of humanity, the freedom of choice. A dangerous and thorny road awaits no matter how you move forward, but for good or ill it is yours. May you never lose it again." he tapped his cane against the ground and the long haired beauty plucked the string of the erhu.
A powerful force crashed into a wall on the far side of the complex, opening to reveal the outside of the complex. Already others were pouring out, both military forces and Yàngbǎn, some with uniforms and others without. From the hole a group of people arrived, aiming weapons at the man and the two women behind him.
However before a single attack could be made on his person those who had pulled off their masks threw themselves at the soldiers, crying out that they wouldn't allow harm to come to the Liberator'.
Chaos consumed the area, and I could no longer fully view what was going on around me. Instead I simply powered through the chaos of bodies being thrown around, making my way to the open air of the complex and finding a way that had been opened to the outside.
Part of me wondered if I should join in the fight of liberation that some had taken up, or try and suppress things before more chaos could be caused.
But in my heart I already knew that neither of those options were what I wanted. He had said each person should make their own choices, and I already knew mine.
I wanted to see my fathers smiling face. My mothers strong but stern expression. The looks of my siblings as I held them.
I wanted to go home.