Chapter One: Awakening
Is it ironic that the only things I can remember from my childhood are idyllic pastimes and bittersweet fun? Am I a cynic for wondering what has become of my world while I slept? Am I stupid because I confide with an empty void now filled with foreign information? Am I smarter because of it?
I wish I could turn it off, just turn it off and revel in the quiet. Even then, that stupid platitude rings in my head, "Be careful with what you wish for…"
Shut up.
I can remember each day of my childhood clearly, like the riverbed of a slow, docile creek. Things like the red-brick school house and the shortcut I took to shave off time so I could talk with my friends just a little bit longer before morning bell. I remember my Sunday dress, starched and prim for church. I stopped attending the service after my mom told me that, "It was useless for people like us," with nose upturned. A lot of things she told me when I was young still surface in my memories from time to time as well. She never spoke fondly of my dad, or at all really. I asked her about him a few days before Father's Day when I was four, but she only yelled at me to stop pestering her with meaningless questions. She told me that, "...as a father, I shouldn't have cared for him at all and that I should have been more focused on overcoming my own shortcomings rather than fixating on a man who meant less than a mere ant." Her words exactly.
My mom, who in all fairness, was verifiably a psychopath. She was manipulative and cold at the best of times.
She was hellbent fulfilling her selfish aspiration of climbing to the top of the Wall-Street dogpile. While her ambition dominated our lives, but I can objectively say that I wouldn't be here without it. Though, I was content with her selfishness to be honest. We weren't living paycheck to paycheck, and our Mr. Handy was perfectly able to care for me during my adolescence. I was a babe in the lap of luxury known as a "picture-perfect" home. I wasn't tainted by true hardship or fear, I was content. Even when things started to change, I was ignorant of the implications, deciding that what mommy knew was best. I wanted to make her proud of me at least, so I convinced myself that she was right when she told me that reading and testing were better suited for me than my neighborhood friends. When she told me that I was accepted to the Goldman Academy for Gifted Youths, I was elated for her more than myself. Yet the affirmation of her pride and appreciation of me was always veiled behind another test. I'm surprised I didn't come out to be as psychopathic as she was. There was just something inherently different about my mom. She didn't even have to fight to lose her humanity, it was already long gone before she molded herself into the monstrous woman she is now.
I eventually came to the conclusion that I was being groomed to be a cutthroat businesswoman just like my mother. Even then, I found myself clinging to the fruitless conclusion that my mother was just looking out for me, conditioning me for the cold, harsh future ahead of me. The final realization came through me like a riptide, drawing my feet out from under me and drowning me in the truth. The truth in which my mother only cared for herself.
I was a pawn in her game and she was more than willing to sacrifice me to cultivate a fellow queen, while reaping the spoils all the same.
The point that drove that fact home arose during the chilly week before Halloween. All Goldman students were sent home for half of the week. I had been dreading it for the longest time, as a bitter resentment had been festering at the back of my mind since I realized my mother's intentions. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I despised the horrible woman, but I realized I could do nothing about her. I just had to play her game long enough to get out clean. I didn't want to think about what would have happened if I rebelled against her wishes beforehand. That fear, I now know, was born from my complacency to her actions. I had only known her success, and the thought of her failure just too much for me to handle.
What I wouldn't give to go back to the silly, monotonous classes that occupied most of my year. Comparatively speaking, "Explorative Linguistics" was much more enjoyable than having to subject myself to mother's supervision. It was also the most boring class I had scheduled for this semester. The only plus of that class was the chance to learn different languages, even ASL. In light of my mother's plans, classes like that were incredibly valuable but slogging through French and Spanish weren't exactly things that I enjoyed to do. In all honesty, leaving Goldman's affected me more than I really wanted to admit. Yes; my being there was a biproduct of my mother's will, but being stuck there didn't stop me from trying to enjoy my time at Goldman's. Ironically, it was one of the only places I felt I had a degree of freedom. So long as my marks stayed "above average", mom left me to my devices. I absolutely despise people who boast about and flaunt their accomplishments, which usually ended up being daddy's trust or hard work that was bought, but because of my mother's twisted manipulation of each and every moment of my life there was a decently fair chance that I could graduate valedictorian. Not that it mattered at all. While merit and honors displayed all the hard work, the generous donations and political pressure exerted by my mother more than guaranteed the outcome of my educational career.
I can't even find it in me to complain, given the rank stench of nepotism and elitist bullshit that surrounded my situation. I mean, who in their right mind would complain about a free ride to academic greatness? Of course, I do my best to ensure that what was put into my mouth via a platinum spoon was well earned. Not many would see it that way though, especially yours truly. Perhaps I just fooled myself once again to play right into my mother's hands, but I try to think that as an individual I can make a difference in the course of action that has been predetermined for me. Anyone can.
So, in the end, I steeled my nerves and boarded my shuttle to leave for home. I wouldn't show any weakness in the gaze of my monster, I had promised myself that. She had given me a year to sharpen my knife, and I was going to make damn sure that I used it at every chance I could. Still, I couldn't help but be a little nervous. I caught myself counting road signs, trees, and even the clouds as they passed by. It never failed to calm me down, taking inventory. I suspected I had a complex formed by my mother's dictator-like relationship over me. That was beside the point always, I needed to remain calm and that tick was what worked. I knew that I was different from the other girls and boys at Goldman Academy but even then, I was able to find a few good friends. Which was why I was dreading the break even more. To my displeasure, the trip was over in an instant. It was about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Goldman's to the town I called home. To even further my misfortune, my mother was waiting for me beside the bus terminal. Her big Cryslus coupe totally capable of making the drive to Goldman's sitting quietly beside her. The black coupe only accentuated her attire, an all-black power suit with a flamboyant hat to match. Her bland platinum like hair betrayed her young looks, which were set to a soft frown as I looked back at her. As the bus rocked to a halt I stood up, intent on beating the bustle of people attempting to get off as well. I had to at least look like I was excited to be home. However, I could tell that something was off. My mom's expression changed once I stepped off the bus, and it terrified me more than if she had given me a gaze of pure fury. She seemed happy about something, and I know it couldn't have been my reports. While I was good at remaining discrete, I had been caught bending the rules every now and again. I did nothing to risk expulsion (that they knew of…), but it was enough to illicit a negative report. While I couldn't evade that inevitability, my reputation as a good student more than made up for my small demerits in the eyes of professors. They often excused my behavior to situational influences like hormones or a light illness.
So much for the whole "independent, fearless, and headstrong" bravado...
Returning to the horrifying matter at hand, my mother was actually smiling at me. Every molecule in my body was telling me to turn around and clamber past the steady flow of people to stow-away on the bus, but that was impossible now. Mustering a smile in return, I walked toward my mother. As per usual when I smiled to her, I ceased smiling shortly after. Otherwise I was at risk of being reprimanded. Though she continued to smile at me and even went as far as to open the door for me as she welcomed me home.
"Welcome home Audrey, have you had a good term thus far?" My mom asked me, deviating from her norm, as she knew exactly how my term had been. She had manhandled the Headmaster into allowing her full access to my files and reports, which even included inter-academy dealings that would only leave the campus if the headmaster deemed it necessary. She obviously wanted something from me.
"Yes, I've had a good term so far." I returned, knowing that she would point out that I had three reports filed over the last two months. Instead, she just nodded and walked around to the driver's seat.
"That's nice. I've missed you while you were gone." My mother said, catching me even more by surprise. She had only shown this much interest in me when I was born. It made me more uncomfortable than anything else.
"I-I have too mom." I replied, thrown off my rhythm by the faux cathartic atmosphere inside the sedan. I knew she was lying, I just couldn't figure out why.
"Would you like to go to the park today? It's almost Halloween already." She asked, sounding like a real mother for once. I could only manage a nod this time. She seemed to take that as a yes, as we turned left on the corner of Kennedy and Barche instead of right… Where home was.
I might have been the only kid in the state of New York who wanted to pass up some fun at the park for a quiet afternoon in the study. Anything was better than this. As we came to a stop by a small park, she surveyed the other park-goers with great interest. Once she found what she was looking for, my mom gestured to the park.
"Go on ahead, I will follow you there in just a moment." My mom said, waiting for me to get out of the car first. I picked up on her que and did so quietly. Doing as she said, I walked towards the playground at the center of the park. A few younger children were playing animatedly on the equipment, so I resigned to just sitting on the swing and stealing glances at my mother from time to time.
At one point, a middle-aged man in a charcoal suit approached her car. His slick dark hair was greying and his tortoise shell glasses gleamed in the sun as he looked up directly at me. My eyes darted away instinctively, but there was no denying it. He caught me staring at him. Once I gathered up the nerve to look up again, he seemed to have ignored me. I continued to watch them with a piqued interest. The man was definitely a stranger, but he had a lot to talk about with my mom. I was so lost in thought, that I barely noticed a presence in front of me until he planted his foot firmly into my shin.
"Ow! You little tyke, what's the matter with you!?" I winced, and turned to face a boy no older than five. He was staring at me with indignant eyes that spoke of his childish anger.
"Yer on the bes' swing, ge' off." He pointed and yelled at me. When I looked down to my own swing I saw no difference between it and any of the other swings. Incredulous, I rolled my eyes at him and stayed planted in my seat.
"What makes this one so good?" "I SAID GE' OFF!"
With a temper fueled shove, I was upturned and sent to the ground. With the breath knocked out of me, I scowled at the child with more than a little bit of malice. He could have just asked for the damn swing. When he didn't immediately get on the swing, my temper flared as well. Why cause all the fuss and not use it? Instead he stood stock still, like he was petrified. When I turned to look behind me, I found the source of his hesitation. Giving one of her glares that could silence even the most boisterous salary man, my mother stood over me staring directly at the kid. Beside her was the man in the charcoal suit and tortoise glasses. My mother began to approach the child before I heard the light trickle of the 5-year-old wetting himself before running away in a bawling fit.
"The nerve of some people… Bringing such obstinate children out in public," She sneered, returning to her usual self, "Are you okay?" She asked, to which I nodded. I would survive. Picking myself up, I brushed away the dirt on my school clothes and looked back up to the man beside my mother. Up close, he had a friendly face with soft, weathered features. He seemed so fit to juxtapose my mother that it was uncanny. They were complete opposites in terms of how the felt to me. I was drawn to trust him, but I wasn't going to let my guard down now.
"Hello, my name is Theodore." The man in the charcoal suit introduced himself. I returned with a paltry, "Audrey." If anything, I had to keep my wits about me. He smiled brightly, and it seemed genuine," Your mother and I have been discussing a scholarship opportunity that would be well suited to you." Theodore informed me with his withstanding smile. The warmth and gentleness of his voice swept over me every time he opened his mouth. It was like drinking a rich cup of hot chocolate after playing in the snow. Returning to reality, I couldn't help but questioning this turn of events.
A scholarship? To where?
Goldman's was supposed to be the most prestigious institution in New York State. Where else could I go? M.I.T.? I know it was foolish to expect it, but it would have been nice if mom had at least given me a heads up beforehand.
"Theodore will be following us home as our guest. We should be going soon." My mother soon added, which meant that we were leaving now. I welcomed the idea of going home, so I couldn't help but rush a little when approaching the car. Theodore climbed into his own car, which was parked adjacent to my mother's car.
The trip home was short and uneventful, as it only took about five minutes. Upon seeing the grey façade of my mother's home, a wave of lethargy hit me. It reminded me of how long it had been since I had been here, and how exhausting living with my mother came to be. Hopefully, like a lot of what happened today, these four days would come and go just a quickly. I couldn't get my hopes up too high though, I would be lying to myself if I said that my mother would just lay off of me because of the break. Pulling myself out of the car, I took a sidelong glance to our street, which held many fond memories, that just like Theodore and my mother, juxtaposed the memories that were held inside the big grey house with the black coupe.
"Go to your room while I talk with Theodore." My mother ordered as we crossed the threshold of the house. Somethings never changed, but I was glad to hear a command rather than a dulcet pleasantry that sounded off-tune. I complied with the order, finding my room quickly to get out from underneath of my mother's gaze. Once I was truly alone behind a locked door, I let go of my nerves and collapsed onto my bed. I closed my eyes and thought of anything other than my mom, her plans, and even Theodore for a long while. After some time, the soft feelers of sleep started to grasp my mind, but were quickly interrupted by a short rap at my door. Knowing I could be reprimanded if I didn't open the door, I reluctantly got up and opened my door. Before me stood the friendly looking Theodore.
"May I talk with you for a moment?" He asked, gesturing to my room. Once again I nodded, feeling it would bite me in the ass if I didn't. With a soft yawn, I pulled out my desk chair for him to sit on. Though he just raised his hand in a polite decline, so I put it back.
"So, what did you want to discuss?" I asked promptly, figuring the sooner I could answer his questions, the sooner I could sleep and get the day over with. Theodore's features seemed to soften even more with a tinge of sadness, but it was only for a moment.
"Nothing too intensive, so please sit down." He reassured me, once again flashing his friendly smile. I did so, but without warning I felt a cold, stinging sensation from my neck. Looking down to a flash of steel, I saw Theodore pull a small syringe away from me as the world started to fade away. Though a voice permeated my ebbing consciousness, it was my mother's.
"Is she asleep? Good, get her out of here. You better keep your end of the bargain Teddy."
Theodore was never good at this part, if he was being honest with himself. Personally, he didn't believe his mission was going to be useful and he had more than a few doubts in the program. He didn't relish in the fact that he was taking these children away from their families, but he couldn't rebel against his superiors for obvious reasons. If he did, both he and his wife would effectively be erased. He couldn't imagine having his small family torn apart, especially with his wife expecting. He thought all parents felt the same way, but this home was different. Theodore was excellent at reading people, as it was one of the reasons he was appointed to this position. He had to make sure that the subjects he collected would remain mentally sound. Being separated from your caretaker could be very damaging. Though Theodore had got the feeling that Audrey wanted nothing more than to be away from her mother. He suspected bad blood, but to be with that much animosity…
He knew Jamie from their business dealings up in New York City and how much of a shrewd, cunning woman she truly was. She left a path of destruction through any and all who opposed her but even Theodore was surprised to hear that she was running for congress, and even more surprised that she had secured a seat. Theodore mused her decision to sign her daughter up for a program pushed to office by her opposing congress member, Henery Powell. Powell had been the head of congress for years now, and there were constant rumors of his mental capacities. Many had claimed that the man had gone senile and for all intents and purposes, Jamie agreed. Perhaps she found a nugget of truth in his words, and she truly feared the fact that they were on the precipice of war. Maybe she truly did care about her daughter's life. Theodore didn't think that could be the case. Jamie seemed to be only looking out for herself, bargaining Audrey off to settle her own affairs. Theodore's intuition agreed mostly to the latter.
Placing Audrey in the back of his government sedan, he sighed as took one last glance at Jamie's home. Nothing had changed, and it was that fact that struck Theodore the most. Shaking his head, Theodore entered the driver's seat and sped off to the east as the sun began to set.
What happened afterwards only ever came to me in my dreams. The recounts were always indistinct and inconsistent. They were almost always mutterings and quiet conversations, most likely because my eyes were closed the entire time. Initially, I got a lot of information from what sounded to be Theodore. He had the habit of repeating what he typed on what I assumed to be a terminal. Even though I knew he had kidnapped me, I found his voice soothing. It was a soft and warm reminder of my existence now. I held onto his voice in the cold darkness that then surrounded me. His words inciting lively colors to fill my mind. His voice specifically brought light hues of tan and orange, with just a hint of emerald green. He told me many things unintentionally, things that both saddened me and prepared me for what was to come. He told me that my mother had arranged for me to be entered into a military program set to reclaim Greater America. That I was going to work with kids around my age to do so. He reminded me that I was going to be alone from now on, and everyone I cherished would be lost forever. He told me that the Chinese were amassing an attack on our home. And soon after, that the world had ended. While I desperately tried to hold onto his words in those moments, they became muddled and fleeting after a while.
That day, his warm tone was smothered by an overwhelming sadness and grief. Though he wasn't alone either. Alongside his, a feminine voice rang out, gentle and sweet. He had secured a chance for life for their family, and one for us as well. I assumed there were more than just me and the people I was eventually fated to work with, but I couldn't pinpoint an exact number. After the world had ended, a new sensation began to dominate my senses. It was muddled and numb, but I could still feel the sharp pang of what felt like a large needle in the back of my neck. Hot, searing pain shot down my back before the world was deadened even further for me. To where the voices I could hear clearly were then just minute reminders. A voice far too loud for the silence interrupted my sleep, and anchored me to a spot in my mind where beforehand I was aimlessly drifting. It was emotionless and synthetic, and it filled my mind with steel greys and blues.
"Preparing course . . . Directive: Commander . . . Loading information . . ."
My dark world was promptly plunged into one filled with an overwhelming amount of noise and light. It was like a cinema was being played in my mind but I couldn't turn it out. Where one instant was black and abstract, the next was populated with light, noise, and feeling. The first thing that came to me was the overwhelming smell of cigar smoke and strange cologne. I fought back the urge to gag after the sudden introduction of such a stench, but panic overtook me as the rest of my sensations came to me in similar form.
Reentering what felt like total sentience, my mind was on fire just trying to comprehend what it felt like to feel again. Nothing made sense to my eyes and I couldn't tell up from down. Even the air around me, which I came to learn was a balmy warmness, felt like ice and fire all at the same time.
It took a while for me to stop screaming, and admittedly even more to stop sobbing. I didn't even know what I was crying about, but I had no intention to stop. When I did though, I found that the scene I had made had gone unnoticed by the world around me. Not that I was complaining.
Filled with a sudden lethargy, I fell as the scenery came into vision. Being dropped into this "scene" made me nauseous, and I didn't want to figure out if I could vomit. After finally taking a look around, I noticed that I was standing outside of a large concrete building with flags of the Third Reich jutting from each cornerstone. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where I was, but before I could even gather my bearings, my perspective was forced to follow two men dressed in fancy officer uniforms. The one on the left was tall and lanky, with short dark hair. He was clean shaven and tidy. The other was a stocky blonde man with a handlebar moustache, he seemed the more jovial of the two. Although they weren't exactly frolicking in a meadow. They walked the ornate halls of the building with purpose. They defiantly knew where they were going. Not even two minutes later, the pair stopped in front of a large mahogany door that was elaborately carved with an amazing attention to detail. I didn't know enough about carpentry to fully appreciate the craftsmanship, but it caught my eye easily. When they opened the door and walk in, I was forced to follow by an ethereal force. There wasn't much else I could do but watch the scene unfold before me. The two men had stopped in front of an opulent desk that sat in front a ghastly man that almost looked too small for it. I could tell that these men were German, but when the opened their mouths to speak, I could understand them completely.
"What is the status of the eastern front Head Command Leader Leurgan?" The ghastly man barks with impatience. One could tell that the man was overworked at an immediate glance. While orderly, his workspace could only be considered overcrowded to a near impossible degree.
"Sir! The eastern line is progressing rapidly, and our supply lines are stable. Our fatality rate is low as well." The tall, lanky man replied with practiced proficiency. His features were stoic and rigid, and his professionalism was in a league of its own.
"And? What of the north?"
"Our standing naval force is still sub-standard, but-" The stocky blonde starts.
"Enough reiterating, get to the point." The ghastly man interrupted.
"Central Intelligence reports that our enemies still do not know of our clandestine operations in the north." The blonde was able to finish with a few beads of sweat lingering on his brow.
"Good..."
As the men droned on, the scene faded once again pulling at my stomach with an intense wave of vertigo and nausea. This was starting to become irksome. At this point I wanted to have more than a few words with whatever was throwing me around like this. With a sigh, I brushed myself off and surveyed the area around me once again. Now that I had acclimated to this strange scenario, all of my boring hours in history class kicked itself into full gear. I had just been swept away from a meeting in Nazi led Germany, and right now my bets were on me being somewhere in France. The scenery defiantly corroborated that assumption, along with the smells and sounds to match. This undoubtedly was near the onset of the second world war. Without warning, a military vehicle stopped right in front of me. Even though I (with about 85 percent certainty) thought that the scene before me was just a hallucination or something of that sort, it still scared the ever-living daylights out of me. Not wanting to get pushed by the ethereal force again, I leapt into the open door and into the dimly lit vehicle. Inside only sat one man, but he was quickly joined by two others. Like the Germans, all three of these men were dressed in formal military clothing. Even at this point with the peaceful city passing by, all of them wore grim facades. They didn't say anything for the duration of the car ride, and to be perfectly honest it was unnerving. The only noise prevailing over their quiet breathing was the drone of the engine and the thumping of tires on uneven pavement. This lasted for another 15 minutes before the estate car came to a halt. Outside was what seemed to be a courthouse or state building. The men departed into the towering building as I was forced to follow. My first impression was that this building was a great deal gaudier than that of the Germans. I didn't have much time to focus on that before I was pulled deeper into the building. Before I knew it, I was standing on the outskirts of a huge speaking chamber filled with bureaucrats. They were already arguing and causing a cacophony of noise. Their bickering stopped after a gavel had been struck multiple times.
"Order! Calm yourselves." Someone with a particularly commanding voice demanded. Even I flinched at his presence.
After everyone had quieted fully, the mood plummeted at an alarming degree. The somber tension in the air chilled me to the bone. Many of the men around me looked to be sick, haggard, or like they were treading a razor thin tightrope. I wasn't as worldly as these men seemed to be, but even without knowing the outcome of their upcoming battles with ultimate certainty I could tell that many were ruing the day they agreed this altercation.
"Before we begin, Logistics would like to express that despite our best efforts, our opponent still outpaces us." Someone spoke up, although they looked like they were going to feint on the spot. The nervous glances that reacted to that notice indicated that there was only more bad news to come. A familiar grim silence followed for only a moment before another man spoke up.
"Research and Development would like to request for more..." Once again, much like the scene from before, the chatter of the war-room deliberations droned on. I found myself becoming bored, even with the depressive pressure that weighed down the room. The man leading the assembly was visibly seething his patience off in a deathly aura. I didn't want to imagine what it was like it that man's shoe's, however, due to the synthetic voice from before I felt that that was exactly what was predestined for me to combat.
A cumbersome amount of time passed before my attention was drawn back to assembly when a succinct string of words was uttered during a moment of tense, but complete silence.
"... It is our doom then, we cannot win."
All hell broke loose once more as the assembly broke down into a frenzied panic. This time, however, the man leading them merely held his head in his hands. The stony façade from before all but crumbled as he too embraced the reality of their situation. They would soon lose, with help coming too little too late and their strategic advances all but snuffed out in a blunt fashion.
With that, I was whisked once again through the unpleasant dreamscape with breakneck abruptness. This time I was dropped onto a battlefield that was rank with the smell of mud, blood, and the echoes of gunfire and artillery.
I landed on the ground outside a canvas tent that once again smelled of cigars and now gun-smoke. Inside, there stood five stocky men in military uniforms. The voice told me that this was the forward base for an infantry division fighting for the French. They were huddled over a map muttering between each other. They all had greyed hair and bushy mustaches. They didn't look up when I ducked into the tent, so I tentatively peered over the man with the most badges on his breast and the bushiest beard. His gravely, baritone voice became etched into my memory.
"This is the end comrades." He said, closely mirroring the tone of the scene before. He hung his head low, bearing what seemed like an excess amount of guilt for their failure. Leaning on the map table, he gave each of his officers a reproachful look.
"We have failed our fatherland; our only choice now is to delay the inevitable," He spoke evenly despite the situation. Each of his subordinates seemed calmed by his display, however, it also could have been the shock of their reality.
"Release the ration restriction, our men deserve one last good meal..."
Once the conversation ended, I was pulled into the darkness only to reappear in a musky, dank trench. The ground resembled a deep shade of red that sent shivers down my spine. Immediately, the synthetic voice that greeted me before droned out that I was standing in blood saturated mud. I couldn't gag or scream because my attention was already forcefully being taken elsewhere. I was following a young man. He was barely old enough to even be considered a man, and he looked about as terrified as I felt. I saw him flinch as he looked to the sky. Milliseconds later, the earth trembled as an artillery shell landed nearby. It was deafening, as the boy dropped his weapon to cover his ears and cry. He was forced to stand by an older, burlier looking man in the same uniform. He was yelling at him to "Hold the line!"
Both the brightening royal indigo of the cloudy sky and the synthetic voice informed me that some time had passed since the somber meeting of the division heads.
He told the boy that reinforcements were coming soon, but said nothing else. I could see the dread in his eyes. He knew that even with reinforcements, they were likely to die here. It was hard to imagine what it felt like, as I could only bear witness to this event. I watched as they waited, weathering the storm of artillery and gunfire. The Germans obviously had them out gunned, but I couldn't dwell on that any further due to the overwhelming thunder of falling artillery shells. The young man and the older veteran dove to avoid the massive amount of shrapnel rocketing near, around, and into their trench. The voice butted in once again to point out that the men were tasked with holding this position for as long as they could manage. Upon a rushed observation, I learned that even with this being the forward most trench, the rest of the division was closely encamped behind us. It didn't take a war nut to realize that this was one of the last defensive positions of the exterior lines. I was so focused on the situation around me and doing my best to not test the theory that I could be killed in this newly minted hellscape that I barely noticed a brief interaction with the veteran and the rookie. After a terse glance over the trench crest, the veteran scrawled something on a notepad before roughly grabbing the young man and yelling at him,
"Take this to the rear lines, then open it!"
Shoving the note into his hand, the veteran pushed the young man down the trench. Not taking a moment to question him, the young man bounded off through the mud. The veteran had no time to watch him go before another artillery shell rained down from above and jarringly shook the ground once more. This time, the veteran was winged by a huge piece of metal. Forced to the ground, he grunted as a fellow soldier dove to his side. Giving him the leather strap of his rifle to bite down on, the soldier gripped the shard of metal and yanked it out of the veteran's shoulder violently. Wrapping it as best he could with a round of cloth, the soldier looked to the veteran with a quiet understanding. They were going to die in this trench, and he didn't want his comrade to go out without a fight. As arbitrarily backwards as that was, the veteran looked thankful.
Climbing back to his feet, the veteran began returning fire to the opposition, like his fellow soldiers. I could do nothing but watch these poor men die in droves as the hours went on. Some were lost to artillery, while others to gunfire, and even some to fear. They were forced to die alone in the heat of the battle. I would never wish that on my worst enemy. It was horrifying, but eventually the hours muddled together until a new development arose. I was sitting beside the veteran, just hoping this would end soon, when I heard it. It was the deep drone of plane engines, a lot of them. I looked up to see where they were coming from, as did the other soldiers. They came from the battlefield beyond us, and continued toward us with ominous intent. There were three large planes, and multiple smaller ones swarming around them as enemy planes charged at them. The three large planes were just out of range of the losing side's AA guns as they opened the bay doors on their underbellies. A solid wall of bombs fell from them as they zoomed perpendicular to the trenches.
Diving once again, the veteran and his fellow soldiers did their best to avoid death. It was nearly impossible, as the forwardmost line collapsed into disorderly chaos. This time, the veteran wasn't so lucky to have been just tagged. Thrown back nearly twenty yards, the veteran landed in a crater gasping for life as one of his legs landed behind him with a dull thud. Looking down, the veteran soldier found his lower half to have been separated from the upper half. With a start, I realized that I couldn't be harmed in these scenes, but that was negligible in the face of all the horror that confronted me now. Even though I could not feel pain, I was breathless and petrified. I didn't even react when I was pulled into a separate scene on a barren hillock about a mile behind the battle that was occurring. I watched numbly as the rookie from before appeared before me, breathing heavily. He was sobbing ugly, nasty sobs as he watched his comrades die. Clutched in his hand was the note that the veteran had left him with. It simply read;
"Flee..."
Both the young man and I gasped as a huge group of armored tanks blazed through the trenches with a ruthless efficiency. It was a gross overkill, that obliterated any of the standing forces left in their way. I had never feared war to such a degree until now, and I was overcome with a devastating sadness as I realized a fate much worse than this was predestined to my friends, neighbors, and even every citizen in the world.
"Conclusion: Improper leadership can lead to catastrophe."
With a listless sigh, I qualified that to be the biggest understatement of whatever remained of my life. It was likely that I could be stuck in these "scenes" indefinitely, subjugating me to a horrible cycle of "Informational Courses." Though, I held out hope that I was eventually going to escape. It was with that hope that my world faded to black once more. It felt so odd to find myself once again in this artificial peace after what felt like hours of torment, fear, and "instruction." Once again, I found myself questioning my consciousness as the void surrounded me with the absence of energy or life.
"Module Two: Stress Acclimation Course..."
Of course, the silence was replaced with the voice again, and they didn't come with what felt like good news. It made me want to curl up and cry, but that was hard to do in an empty void without any physical barriers or concept of time. Bracing myself this time, I fell into a new scenario regretting my choice of not fleeing back to Goldman's while I had the chance. At least I would have died with some of my friends then.
Theodore sighed as he looked from his terminal to the cryo-pod labeled A3-88GO4. The young girl Audrey was suspended inside of it, looking to be sleeping rather peacefully. Her vitals told a different story though, as they were elevated and indicated a particularly stressful situation. He felt a pit in his gut form as he gazed along the row of pods just like Audrey's. His wife had already told him not to worry, but he still held his doubts. However, he couldn't change that now. All he could do was try and work toward the future and keep his people alive so these kids could complete their own mission.
He was officially tasked with overseeing the science and engineering staff of the unofficial Vault 09. It was sanctioned, built, and maintained by the U.S. government and a special branch of the military. While Vault-Tec was an integral piece of the U.S. government, even this project was hidden from the mega-corporation. The result being a fully self-sufficient vault outside of the vault-network. Theodore had never really gotten used to the vault, and sometimes even got lost in the upper levels. This was his home now, so he'd have to acclimate eventually. He usually spent most of his time in the cryo-bay, as he had been connected to the project for over a year now. Everyone here knew what the mission was, and just how dedicated Theodore was to it as well.
Well, they knew that he 'appeared' to be highly invested in it. In reality, he couldn't afford to do anything but support the project. Before Senator Powell finalized the arrangements for Vault 09, he had laid out a strict doctrine that every scientist, soldier, and engineer had to follow. Simplified, it stated that everyone was there only to keep the project alive. If they were to step out of line, they were basically waiving their rights to live. Of course, that nugget was buried under a mountain of legalese. Theodore was one of the few who understood the terms he was living under. However, that wouldn't stop him from preparing a few countermeasures for the generations to come. He couldn't just stand around and do nothing, and the more he thought about it, the less inclined he was to do so. He had to do something to prevent the bloodbath that would unjustly become the future to these kids. As far as Theodore was concerned, Senator Powell could just shove his intentions to the stinking place.
That's right, he said it. The old man was an idiot. A dead one.
A lot of my time was taken up by the voice and the vivid experiences that it played for me. Thankfully, most of them weren't as horrible as the first one. Each one seemed to be tailored to impart lessons that would condition me to lead a group. Personally, I didn't want to, but there was no way for me to end the lessons, and what I did learn seemed interesting at least. After what seemed like forever, the lessons began to become less routine. By that time, Theodore was still visiting but his voice had changed, becoming weathered and aged and his colors became more saturated and deeper. It bothered me that I was missing out on so much, even though Theodore probably didn't really care much about me. He didn't know how much better I felt after a long… period of lessons to hear his voice, rambling on about changes or small little asides on how proud he was of his daughter. He always ended up talking to us whenever he was near. I hope he knew that we could hear him.
When the voice returned, something had changed. When I fell into the experience, the grating rush of sensory information that bombarded me extended to a degree alien to me at this point. My feet touched the ground with a strange intimacy that was incomparable to any of the previous scenarios. As soon as my equilibrium returned, the usual jolt of vertigo changed to hit me like a train at full steam. I involuntarily fell to the ground, and emptied the contents of my stomach. It was only bile and runny liquid, but it felt so real that I once again found myself overcome by fear. Even with the extensive stress and fear management courses I was forced through, I had to stop everything and breath for a few minutes to calm down.
Barring my first experience, having to pick myself up and force myself to survey my surroundings was not the norm. Once I did, however, I was introduced to an industrialized urban environment. Large brick buildings walled my path and the dirty paved alleyway led to a large opening. Having nowhere else to go, I made my way forward. Even this action made me uneasy, as the scenario was usually force-fed to me by the ethereal push.
As I walked towards the concrete clearing, I made sure to take a mental inventory of most if not all the buildings, pathways, and possible exits. The voice was also eerily silent, providing no inclination as to what was happening. Sighing as I tried to keep the newfound hopelessness at bay, I reached the center of the clearing and looked around once more. To my surprise, I found four other kids my age walking towards me cautiously from the other alleyways. They all were looking at each other with puzzled looks and seemed to have shared the same bout of sickness as I had. It seemed I wasn't the only one who found this out of the ordinary. Taking a bit of initiative, I spoke first,
"So, I take it this is new for you guys too?" I opened, looking around to the others while also keeping an eye on the area around us. We were in an abandoned lot in the middle of a city. I couldn't see much else besides that.
The first to respond to my question was a red-headed girl, whose inexplicably bubbly voice was almost intoxicating after hearing the synthetic voice drone on for forever. She was clearly elated to find people her own age in this new experience.
"Yeah. It's so weird. Usually it's just me going up against a lot of different things with a lot of big guns, and blowing stuff up, and…" The young red-head began to ramble on before catching herself," Sorry, it's been a while since I've talked to other kids, I kinda had to get it all out." She added, "I'm May." She introduced herself as well. I could clearly tell she had a touch of the south in her roots purely based on how she spoke. She also had a wildly different experience from my own.
Her energy seemed to vitalize the group a bit, as a slightly older boy with sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes spoke up," Really? So, I guess we've all been put in different scenarios. Mine have all been mostly based on tracking and stuff like shooting a rifle." He said, seeming to be caught up in thought soon after that," So does this mean you guys are the team the scientist talked about?" He asked. I had been thinking along the same lines. The tallest boy spoke next,
"It stands to reason that we are..." He said, eyeing everyone critically, "but that doesn't even begin to explain whatever," He gestured to their surroundings," this is."
I nodded gently, wholly understanding his unease," It doesn't help that this is the first time we've met real people too." I added, assuming that our experiences were similar in that fact. The thoughtful faces among the others confirmed that, which oddly didn't make me feel any better.
"I don't think that changin' this situation is something we can do though," May interjected, "so we might as well deal with it for the time being." She offered with a solid rationale. Once again, our stark reality was driven into the limelight. It didn't do much to placate the others, but they seemed to relax with the reaffirmed need to muscle on forward. It wouldn't be healthy to fixate on such a depressive certainty, so I spoke up once more after a moment's pause,
"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to get to know each other then," I voiced my suggestion to the group," if we are, in fact, stuck in this together."
The blonde boy stifled a chuckle, "I never would have thought I'd be glad for those stupid ice-breakers we did at school."
While it did elicit a chuckle from most of us, the sharp pang of remorse quickly stepped in to remind us of the things that we'll never be able to do again. The blonde boy caught onto this swiftly and amended his joke with a short,
"Oh... Sorry guys."
The dark-haired boy shook his head, "It's alright, we'd probably end up talking about it anyway," before he continued with, "so what did you guys do before all of this happened?" He inquired, his voice low and soft. He watched the group expectantly, probably wondering who would speak first. To my surprise, the young girl beside him spoke quietly. She had long black hair, and her eyes were the color of roasted coffee ground. She also was the shortest out of all of us, and most likely the youngest too.
"I don't know if you guys would find interesting or not, but I used to dance for my school." She told us, flushing slightly. She looked like she wanted to go on further, but she held herself back. I could understand her trepidation, seeing as we all had only just met. She was clearly of Latin-American decent. She had a sweet candor to her accent.
"Back home, I helped my parents around our ranch. I took care of animals with my mom and helped my dad build stuff and the likes." May piped up after the young girl finished talking," It was a lot of fun." Her intonation changed slightly, but she looked far more at ease with sharing with the group. It didn't take much to realize that we all had lost something when we were taken away.
"I, uh, lived with my dad at his repair shop. We fixed peoples electronics, like robots and terminals." The tallest boy then said," It was just us."
"My dad was a soldier, but I didn't do anything too special before this." The blonde boy said, sitting on a wooden box near the building we were standing next to, "He taught me how to hunt and how to live off the land."
We all had such startlingly different backgrounds. It was surreal to think about the chances of this happening to us out of the millions of people in America.
"It seems that we've been assigned different roles based on our lives before… Well, you know." I said, trying to piece together this strange situation. It had been a long time since I thought about the end of the world, but it still hurt just as much as the day I had learned of it. It seemed that all of us craved conversation, after being isolated for what felt like an eternity.
"I wouldn't say I had the most glamourous life, but my mother was a sen-"
Before I could finish my sentence, I heard the familiar sound of boot clad footfalls echoing off the walls of the high building surrounding us. The others had heard it as well, having ceased their conversation while looking for the source of the sound. The atmosphere changed instantly, as even May became serious. We weren't expecting anyone else, which immediately set off red flags. Looking around erratically, I found an open door on the side of the building and ran towards it, gesturing for everyone to follow. My instincts told me to hide, but I hoped the others would listen. To my relief, everyone bolted in right after me. Right as May, who brought up the rear, hid away from the doorway, the people who were making all the noise made their way into the lot. They were clad in black combat armor, and their faces were obscured by similarly black plate masks. Their masks lacked eyeholes, but the soldiers moved as if they could see everything. Each of them held a machine gun They even searched the area around them, sending shivers down my spine. There was just something wrong with their movements, and the way they stood.
Looking to the others, I pointed farther into the building. We had to get away from the strange soldiers. I didn't try to think about what would happen if we were caught. This was the first time I could interact with the world around me during an experience, and the realism of every one of my senses put me on edge. I had no idea if we could get hurt, and I had no intentions of finding out. Nodding, the others snuck along, ducking to avoid being seen through the dirty windows. I thought we could make it without a hitch, but I knew I shouldn't have been thinking wishfully. It only took the tallest boy accidentally knocking over a precariously placed paint can for my hopes to be dashed.
"Run!" I shouted at the others, expecting a hail of bullets. Instead, there was only the sound of a window breaking and the tink, tink, tink of a grenade bouncing behind the tallest boy.
My body reacted faster than my mind could, as I bolted toward May and the tallest boy. Pulling them away with all my might, I dove away from the explosive. I hit the ground right as it went off with an earsplitting bang. I felt a bolt of molten pain flare in my back. It took all I had in me not to scream as the acute waves of pain pulsated through my body and into my bones. Still, we had to keep going. We couldn't stop now, as it was clear our lives were in the balance. I scrambled up and ran along the hall with the others, trying to ignore the hot blood trailing down my back. After the explosion, the strange soldiers started to fire their guns into the building.
"Why didn't they follow us in?" The blonde-haired boy questioned, huffing lightly as we slowed once we were deeper inside the building. I hadn't realized it, but he was right. The soldiers had stopped firing, but they didn't chase us into the building.
It dawned on me, like all of the other horrible scenarios and "Instructional Courses" that this was the culmination of that information. It was explicitly designed to test us now. We were put into a difficult situation, and like all of the other experiences, we were stuck here until we completed whatever we needed to do. I felt like I was going to be sick. We were just kids, who does this to a bunch of kids? My knees gave out from under me and I had to lean on the wall to keep from falling to the floor.
"Hey! Are you okay?" The blonde-haired boy asked with concern in his voice. I replied by actually becoming sick again and throwing up whatever bile I had left in my stomach onto the floor. The acuity of everything only served to escalate the situation. I needed to pull myself together, but everything was trying to pull me apart. I had always felt uneasy and even scared throughout this whole ordeal, but it had never been this bad. I was afraid to die, everything felt so real.
The blonde-haired boy tried patting my back, but that only caused my body to flinch away from him as the searing pain that I had somehow forgotten about returned like a gale force wind. I could see the color drain from his face as he pulled his now blood-covered hand away from my back. I wasn't the only one who realized things were much different this time.
"Crap! What are we gonna do?" The blonde-haired boy asked, losing his composure as the gravity of the situation fell onto him, "She's bleeding a lot." He said obviously.
The tallest boy took charge, and started giving simple tasks to the others, but I couldn't hear his words anymore. The experience started to fade away, but this time I felt like I wasn't going to fall back into the cold, empty darkness with Theodore's familiar voice. When I thought I would die the voice finally returned, reminding me that this was all in my head.
"Subject A3-88GO4: You are unconscious."
Theodore awoke with a start as his personal alarm system pinged his Pip-Boy. This particular alarm was set to be activated when moderate fluctuations in the vitals or statuses of the children slated for Project Pheonix were observed.
"Ah, A3-88GO4..." Theodore mumbled as he read through the report and got dressed. He had taken to calling them by their designation when he realized his time left in this world to aid in their salvation was coming to an end, and he would have to trust in his successors to uphold his solitary promise to every single child in that laboratory. After pulling his lab coat on over his vault-suit, Theodore rushed to his daughter's domicile to wake her as well. She was chosen to succeed Theodore as the overseerer of Vault 09 via the G.O.A.T, which the American government so graciously borrowed from Vault-Tec to streamline the integration of their clandestine facility.
It only took roughly two minutes of speed-walking to reach his daughter's door, and even less for her to be ready and by her father's side once she heard his ringing of her buzzer. The internal clock on their Pip-Boy's read, "02:30," however, the two didn't seem bothered in the slightest.
Theodore turned to face his daughter, Elenore, while the sped through the dimly lit corridor, "Sorry to wake you at such an improper time Ellie, but you asked to be included to each and every aspect of this undertaking." He apologized lightly, knowing that his daughter wasn't going to mind unless he had neglected to bring her along.
"I'll be fine, but I'm more worried about the Liberty Unit. The schedule didn't have them set for their first skills canvas for another three weeks." Elenore frowned, while Theodore mentally rolled his eyes. Damn politicians loved their "power" names. Theodore's jaded criticism was interrupted by Elenore's inquiries, "I mean, it couldn't be faulty programming would it? If we just had access to the root files of the simulation..." She slowed to a halt when she caught the amused look on her father's face. Theodore was then hit with one of her daughter's patented shoulder punches that always managed to hit bone when she threw them.
While it hurt, Theodore laughed and continued just a short way before opening the door to the cryo-sim laboratory and rushing inside.
Aligned in rows of fifteen with four rows in total, the cryopods sat only making a few mechanical whirs and buzzes every so often. Five of the pods sat with their doors open, in which they no longer sat occupied. Moving swiftly to the Liberty module of row three, Theodore booted up the primary terminal for their simulator. Elenore was quick to boot up the module's status terminal as well, as she needed to observe the vitals of each subject. The results were conclusive to high stress levels and fear, which was to be expected. After quickly recording them, Elenore joined her father in front of the primary viewscreen for the Liberty simulation. On the screen, the pair viewed the simulation through the eyes of each of the kids. Elenore frowned once gain as soon as the faceless commandos came into view.
"It truly is barbaric that they should be forced to combat such an enemy." She griped to her father as the children retreated inside the abandoned building. Theodore could only nod as he concentrated on each of the viewpoints. His eyes narrowed as he watched A3-88GO4's monitor. As soon as he observed the movement patterns of the commando's, he leapt back over to the primary simulation terminal. After a short burst of hurried keystrokes, Theodore's stomach dropped and he exclaimed in anger,
"God damnit Powell!" Theodore almost roared, striking the terminal with more ferocity than what would be expected from a man as on in his years as Theodore was. Elenore jumped back before trying to calm her father down and get some sort of answer for his behavior.
"Dad... What's wro-"
"It's the damn program..." Theodore sighed and cupped his now injured hand, and gestured to the terminal, "Powell's ambition is going to kill these children before they even leave the vault."
Elenore hesitantly viewed the terminal's screen, which was currently lingering on a view window of the simulator's program scripts. Finding the problem instantly, Elenore gasped and looked at her father with grief.
The safety inhibitors of each cryo-sim pod were programed to ensure the safety of each subject as they were put through each of their instructional courses and subsequent assessments. As the subjects became more versed and experienced, the inhibitors would gradually lessen the safety net to reach a near perfect simulation of real-life scenarios approximately five years before the subject's release date. It was a hellish practice to train the children, but Theodore had already expended more effort than was necessary to break the encryption and absolve the burden that was being put on these kids. His attempts were always foiled, however, and the subjects were subjected to their training for the whole duration.
In the case of the Liberty module, those inhibitors were completely deactivated before the children even had their first skills canvas. The assessment was intended to be a stressful introduction to what would be a cyclical program of instruction and assessment that would ramp in difficulty. Begrudgingly, Theodore understood the dead-man's rationale, but that only served to fuel his hatred for the man. If he thought that routinely threatening the lives of children he's already condemned to hell would produce more efficient soldiers, then the old man truly was senile.
Theodore had reconciled his pain and grief surrounding his position in this operation long ago, but this instance reopened the floodgates, and truly made him resent the world that he came from, and the one that these children would be force into. Cradling his head in his hands, Theodore spoke in quiet, brief verses,
"We must monitor them...
No lapses in coverage...
That man has gone too far...
We cannot let them die."
Elenore held onto her father's words with rapt attention, however, a blaring explosion tore her eyes away and back to the monitor.
A3-88GO4 had just jumped into the blast radius of a fragmentation grenade.
A/N: So! To get a few things out of the way for this initial posting; Firstly, I'd like to point out that this is a massively re-edited upload from a previous story. Really it was only a concept at that point, but I was supremely unsatisfied by what I had released back then. Now, as a more competent writer I've decided to tackle it once more just because I enjoyed the original concept so much.
Which brings me to my second point. As you can tell, this document alone has over 10k words. This is intentional. I plan to adhere to this level of quality (hopefully) throughout the entire project. By no means will I be perfect, which is why I am also using this first chapter as a notice board for any aspiring editors or proofreaders. Obviously any participation will be voluntary, but it would bring me great joy to find someone to share the passion I have for this project.
Lastly, I want to thank any viewer for finding themselves on this page. I'll be the first to admit that publishing a story, especially a long-fic, is always daunting when it comes to that first "click." Hopefully, I was able to entice even just a few of you guys to view.
Kudos, Millions'o'Moose