It's nice to have some chapters prepared in advance to upload, but it is a big exercise in self-control. This is my longest chapter yet, at just over seven thousand words. I hope you enjoy it.

I'm currently sitting on a cushion of more than a chapter, being on Chapter 8. I think that's pretty cool. This chapter's title is an AVGN reference.

Tomorrow, I will be adding another chapter to Lorax, a very short one. Partly because I want the last update on a special day, so that it'll always say December 12 up there, which is my half-birthday. It's an especially significant date because it was a late relative's actual birthday.

Answer: I like The Hunger Games, Pokémon, Star Fox, and a lot of other video games. There are other fandoms that I read, but do not write for. In the future, I might attempt a Maximum Ride fic.

Question: Add up all of your views on this site. What is the result?

You might be wondering why the Q & A are at the top of the page. That's because I didn't want to ruin the ending of the chapter. Maybe you can guess what's coming, maybe not. (Actually, if you have seen my Mario Kart 8 videos, you will now what is coming at the end). But I hope you enjoy anyways.

WILLOW'S POV

There it was again. For whatever reason, based on what I could see of Lucas from my vantage point in the room, he seemed to be very relieved that we would not be using the flight simulators today. Why? Why not just get it over with, in order to get the butterflies out of his stomach?

It really did look cool, what we would be doing there soon enough. I personally could not get in that cockpit soon enough, since I had always dreamed of flying like a bird, and using an Arwing, or whatever that little spaceship was called, might be as close as I could get. But I didn't know if Lucas felt the same way.

After Flight Simulators was over, we were led back to the dining hall, and from there back to my dormitory, number 94569. This room was for girls who had only recently started attending the academy, but unlike the boys' dormitory, it was quite a bit harder to find. You had to take a convoluted route to get there, and it went something like this:

You had to follow an orange-lit hallway out of the dining hall, which would take you to a fork in the path. You had to turn left and climb up two flights of stairs, followed by going up a slanted stairwell behind a large, exquisite fountain. It looked like something you would see out of Renaissance-era Europe, not something you'd see in a futuristic flight academy in an alternate dimension. Of course, it wasn't as if I should have expected anything within the ordinary at this point.

After the statue, which was of Falco Lombardi and Katt Monroe, the feline who had examined Lucas, you went up the stairwell and through a purple hallway to my dorm room, which was on the sixth floor of the academy. I wondered just how many floors this place had, and if it was twenty or more, why even bother with all of the stairs? Why not elevators clearly marked, so that you could get to where you were going? I guessed that they just needed a lot of extra space for what they were doing at this school.

My dormitory was shared with five other girls. Their names were Michelle, Ericka, Allison, Nena, and Olivia. I had some of my classes with some of them, but all of the girls did have Flight Simulators together at the end of the day.

Michelle was a slight girl from Huntsville, Alabama. Her parents were professors at the university there, and she had often been shown around the campus, so that she could see what it might be like for her to attend. She also had a Southern accent, and she was generally pleasant to be around. I felt that I might consider her my friend.

Ericka was from western Texas, and she had an even more pronounced accent than Michelle. She always seemed to be looking down at her feet, as if she was very shy. It was clear when she wanted to talk, because she always had her ears perked up, as if she didn't want to miss the chance to jump in on a conversation. It made me think that she must have grown up in some lonely small town with no one to talk to. And it made me feel somewhat sorry for her.

Allison was a rather prissy girl who only ever seemed to care about fashion, One Direction, and doing her hair. Her bag, which was hot pink, the most stereotypically girly color you could possibly imagine, was full of hair products, fancy Victoria's Secret panties, and photos of her favorite teen actors. It should come as no surprise that she was from suburban Los Angeles.

Nena was a girl with a German accent from Wisconsin. She always loved to sing in German, especially her favorite song, "99 Luftballons". I didn't think that I needed to remind her that it was actually a song about nuclear war, and was therefore not a happy thing to sing about at a military academy. No doubt she knew that already. Also, she had a constant habit of talking over everybody at mealtimes. So annoying, but not nearly as bad as Allison.

And then we had Olivia, who was very quiet and had, as of the first evening that I was at the Grey Clouds Flight Academy, not spoken a single word to me. I had not gauged her personality yet as a result, but I could tell that, back at home, the popular clique would have rejected her without saying a word. That was the thing about cliques, after all.

In any case, the six of us all returned to the dorm from our Flight Simulators class, and there we were allowed to change into different clothes. We were not required to wear our uniforms to dinner, which was a relief. I wanted to be Willow Foster for a while, not someone who constantly worried about what kind of military maneuvers she would be learning the next day.

I was looking forward to seeing what dishes would be available for dinner. Breakfast had been the general buffet, as I guessed was probably the usual custom for when they had new students, but lunch had been sandwiches. What would dinner be?

Once I reached the table for pink and scarlet girls, Bill Grey went back up to the podium. He congratulated us on making through another day of training, and after saying, "I am sure that you have all worked up a great appetite today. It is time...for some pizza!"

Platters of what appeared to be piping-hot pizza rose above the table, to a height of about nine inches above the tabletop. This was not the round type of pizza, cut into eight slices, that you're used to ordering. This pizza was square, and cut into square slices, which were generally thicker than you got at your average takeout pizza joint in the USA.

I wondered where they got all of this food from. Was it made here? I doubted that, but it didn't matter. All I knew was that I loved pizza, so I dug into the nearest one, which had pepperoni and jalapeños on it.

"Don't overdo it with those" Michelle said as soon as I bit into it. "You don't want to eat too much spicy food. Not when you have class tomorrow!"

"All right, Michelle" I said, but on the inside I was thinking, Screw that. Don't act all moralistic since you're from the South.

Michelle had been right, though. The pizza had a certain level of kick to it that it seemed like normal jalapeños didn't. Maybe something in the cheese added to it.

I ate two slices of the chili pepper pizza and one slice of Hawaiian, and I enjoyed every bite of it. If it sucked to have been sold by your parents to this school, at least the food didn't suck.

Once it seemed that everyone in the dining hall had eaten their fill, the other girls sitting near me stood up. I didn't know what they were doing, but then I noticed that the people, like a river, all seemed to be flowing towards one direction out of the enormous room.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"It's for evening meeting" Ericka said. "It's every night".

Then, I remembered my schedule, which was still tucked away in my bag, which was still tucked away in room 94569. Excuse me for not remembering exactly what was going to happen at this time.

I had no choice but to follow the tide of human beings that was pushing me towards a large auditorium, or at least what appeared to be one. I had no idea what was about to be said here, but there was no way to find out except to see it for myself.

Once all several hundred of us were present, Bill Grey walked up out of a door behind the stage. He cleared his throat, and then he stood up to his full height of 5 feet, 9 inches. At least, that was what he had told us that his height was. It was hard to tell from here.

The auditorium was enormous, the size of the Capitol building in Washington DC. Seats were arranged all over the place, making it look like a massive party rather than a formal meeting. Pretty much everyone sat with their dormmates, but I managed to find a place that was next to them on one side, and Lucas was on the other side of me.

This is perfect! I thought.

Of course, I couldn't just talk to him about anything romantic when we were surrounded by hundreds of other people who would catch on right away. No, that would just be stupid. We had to find some way to sneak out at night or something.

Just how possible was that?

"Well, I would like to once again thank all of you for not rebelling against the system today. I know that you all must have wanted to very much, given everything that we have been making you do".

There was some sporadic laughter all over the room, but there really wasn't too much of it, which didn't surprise me too much.

"First things first, I would like to remind our new students of the rules. They are not to leave the dormitories after curfew, and lights are out by ten sharp. In addition, if you are caught out in the hallways, you face detention. Secondly, follow all of the instructions that your teachers give you. They might seem arbitrary, but it is important to remember that they have your best interests at heart, and so do I. I will do whatever it takes to protect all of you.

"Okay. Now that we have gone over some of the ground rules, let us introduce our new students. We have...Cole McCallen!"

One of the boys that had been in Flight Simulators, hanging near Lucas the whole time, stood up and saluted the Cornerian flag, or what I assumed was the Cornerian flag. It consisted of the same red logo of a flying pig that I had seen on the side of the helicopter that had taken us here. However, it was against a yellow background rather than a white one.

"William Wexford?"

The African-American boy, who also seemed to be one of Lucas's new friends, stood up and saluted the flag.

After Michael Kirk, a nerdy-looking kid with glasses and oily hair, stood up, it was Lucas's turn.

When "Lucas Enfield?" was called, my boyfriend, if you could call him that, stood up. I was a little surprised that he would do it, but he saluted the Cornerian flag as well. He seemed eager to be here, but it might have just been an act. At this point, very little could have surprised me.

My heart started pounding after Lucas sat back down. I knew that there was only one new student left to stand up tonight, and I also knew who that student happened to be.

"Willow Foster?"

Do I? Or don't I?

I decided that the pros of standing up would greatly outweigh the cons of doing so, so that was the choice that I made. It might have been going against everything that my mind was telling me, but I stood.

Too late! I did!

I saluted the Cornerian flag, feeling a sense of duty towards it. Deep down, I knew that this was wrong. Why would I be saluting the same system that my parents had sold me to?

When I saw Bill Grey looking at me, though, I got the sense that he wanted me to give some kind of a speech, even though none of the boys, including Lucas, had given one. I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but I knew that I should say something.

"I'd just like to say...that I have enjoyed my first day here very much. I'm learning a lot of different military things, and that never would have happened back at home. The food here is really good, too. I hope that I can be of as much use to the war effort as possible".

Those words had just come out of my mouth before I had had a chance to stop them, as if they were using my tongue as a diving board. What had I been thinking?

Hundreds of people all around me, in various colors of clothes now that they were not required to wear their uniforms, clapped and cheered for me. In the words of Auggie Pullman, I believe everyone should have at least one standing ovation in their lifetimes. And for me, this was the one.

After my speech was over, I followed the same path back up to room 94569, remembering to go in the same way past the fountain and from the orange hallway to the purple one as before.

I looked in my bag. It contained several books, as well as a picture of our class from last year. I looked at it, and I saw that it featured Lucas fairly prominently. He was standing in the back for Picture Day due to being in the top third of our class in terms of height.

And I wondered if, just maybe, I could find another time to see him now that we were both at this school and would have a hard time getting to each other alone.

It really had been a crazy day, I thought. Between getting shot with a tranquilizer dart, passing out, being taken by helicopter to this school, having meals from plates that rose up onto the table, not to mention all of the classes that had happened between then and now.

I wondered if tomorrow, and every day after that, would be every bit as bizarre as the day I had just finished.

LUCAS'S POV

My four-poster bed was right next to the window of my dorm room. If there was any negative to this, it was that during the summer, when the sun rose earlier, I would be woken up earlier by the light coming into the room. Since it was December right now, I would have thought that the sun would have risen a lot later, but that was just not what seemed to be the case on Corneria.

I was woken at what was, according to the digital clock on the wall of the dorm room, 5:34 AM. Still almost an hour before I would even be allowed to leave the room. At various overnight summer camps, I had had this experience before, because I was a natural early riser. Sleeping in just didn't come naturally to me.

I looked around, desperate for anything to do. But instead, I found myself looking at my schedule. Using a small flashlight from my bag, I managed to read what it said today.

LUCAS ZANTRY ENFIELD HAS (DECEMBER 14, 201X):

0700-BREAKFAST

0730-CLEAN UP

0800-ARCHERY

0930- AQUATICS

1100-STUDY HALL

1200-LUNCH

1245-REST HOUR

1345-SIMULATORS

1545-ENGINEERING

1700-SHOWER HOUR

1800-DINNER

1900-EVENING MEETING

2000-RETURN TO DORMITORIES

2200-LIGHTS OUT

So I had simulators again today. Hopefully, we would actually get to learn how to use them. I had a certain anxiety, a desire to get things over with just so I could see how bad the Gz forces would be. Whether or not I would need to have my legs amputated.

I most certainly did not want that to happen. Looking out my window, I could see the wide expanses of green that were known as the Cornerian Plains, and I also saw some of the cold white glaciers of the mountains. I wondered if we would ever go on any day trips outside of the area enclosed in the protective climate bubble, and if so, what we would do there? Would there be any training in the mountains?

It wasn't impossible. Neither was waiting for breakfast, which did eventually come. With Mike, Will, and Cole, I walked down to the dining hall. Having made this journey several times already, I had finally managed to figure out the way, and so had the others.

Hopefully, this helped signify my coming to a new understanding of the ways of this place, and then this would seem a little more normal.

Once everyone was at their respective tables, the platters of food rose up Hunger Games-style once again. It wasn't the most shocking thing after seeing this happen three times already, but it was still a sight to behold.

The dishes weren't as numerous as before. Today, it was toast, sausage, and apples for breakfast. Since I liked all of those things, I didn't have any problem with that.

Like I had yesterday, I tried to make some small talk with my neighbors, but they didn't seem too interested this time. I guessed that everyone was just too nervous for what was going to be going on today. Which was fair, considering that we had the flight simulators again, and this time we were likely to use them.

It was only after all of the dishes had disappeared, and Cole and I were walking together to our next class, that he made an attempt to talk to me. I wasn't expecting it, so it caught me a little off guard.

"Hey, Lucas?" he said, in a voice that sounded almost dangerous.

I didn't want to refuse him, so I said, "Yes?"

"I'm kind of scared today, what with doing all of these things. I'd just like to tell you a little more of my story, and how I ended up here. Is that okay with you?"

"That's fine" I replied. And really, it was. I wanted Cole McCallen to be a little bit less of a mystery to me.

Cole leaned in next to my ear as we went down the thirty flights of stairs to the archery range, which was very deep in the basement of the Grey Clouds Flight Academy. This is what he told me.

COLE'S POV

I was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan, not one of the best cities for a scared white boy in a black neighborhood. My parents, Lauren and Curtis, either did not or could not raise me, so they put me up for adoption.

I was adopted by the couple of Christine and Paul McCallen when I was five years old. As much as I loved my adoptive parents, at least before they sold me off to this place, I always had one toe over the line, as in I did a lot of things that were ethically questionable, and definitely not allowed.

My earliest memory was from when I was three years old. Before I got adopted, I was having a playdate with one of the neighborhood kids at his house. I wasn't even thinking of doing this at first, but I realized that this was what I was going to do. I kept on looking for some moment that I could steal the other kid's toys.

When the other kid's bladder began acting up, and he decided that he needed to go to the bathroom, I realized that this was my chance. Being the sneaky little boy that I was, I seized the fact that he had left his toys on the floor to pick them up and stuff them in my pockets.

You should've seen the expression on the other kid's face when he got back from the bathroom!

So, yeah, my whole stealing habit pretty much stemmed from there. Looking back on it, I realize that the reason I was put up for adoption might have been because my biological parents didn't want such a naughty kid as their son. Which doesn't excuse it, but whatever. I still have a desire to meet them someday, and maybe I will, once all of this is said and done.

As I have said, I was adopted when I was five. From there on out, my passion for stealing and breaking the rules only increased. Now that my new parents seemed to love me unconditionally, I took advantage of that. I continued to steal, but I fully realized that this might just be my thing when I was eleven, and, with my friends, stole a pack of gum as part of a dare. And, since then, things had gotten more and more intense.

I've stolen food from stores, broken into buildings, and vandalized other people's property. I always make sure not to stay home for too long (because I get bored easily if that happens), and I never want anyone to steal from me. You might call me a hypocrite for this, but it is true.

I'm not proud of all of this, but I'm just telling it like it is. Judge me if you want, Lucas.

LUCAS'S POV

The whole time that we were going down to archery, Cole was very careful not to whisper too loudly for fear that someone might overhear. Even so, I could tell the hurt in his voice, and I realized what he was thinking.

What if his adoptive parents had sold him here because of what he had done? He seemed to be showing some remorse now, but it might be fake. I still considered him my friend, but I might never be able to look at him the same way again, knowing now that he had been involved in criminal activities back where he was from. It definitely opened up my eyes a little more.

It really was a sad story, but the thing was that I didn't have much more time to dwell on it. Reason being, we were now at the room for Archery, our first class of our second day at Grey Clouds Flight Academy.

As soon as we entered the room, we were greeted by yet another awe-inspiring sight. There was a range of about thirty yards, but you could also do it from ten, fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five. Of course, I presumed that there would be some sort of precaution, based on my experience from summer camps, where you could only go up and retrieve your arrows once everyone was finished firing.

The bows were hanging off a rack on the other side of the room, except that this was a futuristic-looking one, and the bows didn't look like the kind that Robin Hood would have used. No, these bows were more like the type that Katniss Everdeen would have used in the Capitol.

Our instructor for this class was what appeared to be an anthropomorphic owl. She looked very stern, and I could tell that this was one person, if you could call it that, who you did not want to cross. I saw her handle a bow when she was greeting us.

She wasn't pointing it at us, but I had no doubt that she would fire at will, and she would not fail to hit her target. If she hit you, the arrow itself might not kill you, but you'd probably have to go to the infirmary.

"Hello, class" she said, as she casually released her arrow, watching it hit the bull's-eye from what must have been at least forty yards. Some of my classmates gasped in awe, but I managed to keep my composure. After all, it was only to be expected given that she appeared to be the archery teacher.

"My name is Mrs. Hooter, and I am the archery instructor at this academy. I expect all of you to be on your very best behavior here, or else do you know what will happen to you? Huh? Do you?"

Cole stiffened. I could tell that, based on what he had told me earlier, he really didn't want to be killed.

Mrs. Hooter let her arrow fly, once again cleanly hitting the yellow center of the target.

"You're going to end up in the infirmary getting blood from someone else put into your body!" she semi-shouted, without pausing for breath. She also sounded very angry, almost to the point of shrieking. I knew that this wasn't an idle threat.

I'd read that Hollywood made arrows look a lot more deadly than they really were, but that only referred to Earthly arrows. On Corneria, they could be something completely different. In all likelihood, that was the case.

After that outburst, Mrs. Hooter seemed to mellow out a little bit. Not that I considered her any less dangerous if crossed, but I didn't think I was in imminent danger of being shot with an arrow any longer.

"You don't want that, do you?" she asked us. I figured that was a rhetorical question.

"All right, then. If you don't want that to be you, and trust me that this has happened several times here, then you will shoot five people, four arrows at a time, each from the same distance. When I blow the whistle, you may begin shooting. When I blow two whistles, you may go and collect your arrows. When I blow three whistles, the next group can go up and get ready. Do you get all of that?"

The entire room nodded their assent to these rules.

"All right. Our first group is Samuel, Leon, Nicholas, Steve, and Lucas. You know who you are, people. Get to it!"

The bow felt lighter in my hands than those I was used to. I had only had marginal experience with archery, at the summer camps that I had been to, but I got the feeling that this couldn't be too different from that. I was no Mrs. Hooter, but I should be able to land at least two or three arrows in that target, right?

Wrong. When Mrs. Hooter blew the whistle, I found myself with a much shakier hand than I had realized. I let go of the first arrow on accident, and it hit the ground not fifteen feet from where we were shooting (ten yards away from the targets).

Desperate to make up for that, I tried aiming the arrow a little higher. It sailed above the target and barely nicked the top of it before crashing to the ground.

I was beginning to get irritated with this. Why couldn't I do this? Maybe I was too nervous about what would be coming later today. Flight simulators.

My third arrow was aimed a little lower. As it turned out, too low. Much like my first arrow, it hit the ground well before the target, and it almost stuck into the floor. It was a good thing that the floor was not made out of clay, or else I might have broken the arrow when I later took it out of the ground.

Since I was very quick, I had nocked my fourth arrow before Cole had shot his second. I noticed that his first arrow was in the yellow bull's-eye, just like Mrs. Hooter had gotten it. I didn't think too much of it at first, thinking that Cole must have just been a real crack shot.

I aimed my fourth arrow in between where I had done my previous two. It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to be the best idea given where my previous two arrows had ended up. I pulled the drawstring back and let it fly.

It hit the red area of the target, a little before the center (the colors being white, black, blue, red, and yellow, going from the outside of the target to the bull's-eye). At least, it did before some unseen force caused the arrow to bounce out of the target, going nearly five feet back before falling back to the ground.

With no more arrows left, I decided to watch Cole, who had now shot three of his arrows. One had hit the bull's-eye. One had landed in the blue area, while the third had made it into the red, but close to the yellow.

I wondered if Cole was naturally this good at archery, or if...oh, I got it now.

I made a mental note; would I ask Cole if he had ever shot anyone with a gun? If so, that would explain his archery skills.

After Archery was over, I had Aquatics with Mike and Will, but not Cole. He had Engineering, which was my last class of the day today.

This time, I had little trouble finding my dorm room once again, and from there I got my swim clothes on and headed down to the pool room. I didn't go with my other classmates, because they had gotten back to the dormitory either before or after me, I didn't know which.

Once I was there, I noticed that I was not late for once. That was a relief to know. The teacher was also present, and she had a look on her face that told me that she meant business in terms of teaching us today.

"Today, class, you will each have to hold your breath underwater for twenty seconds. The buzzer will go off when you are allowed to resurface, and you should be able to hear it down there in the water".

Will looked very nervous, and I didn't blame him for that. For someone who had as little confidence in his abilities in the water as Will did, it seemed that he might think it very dangerous to go underwater for twenty seconds. Truth be told, I was not that much more confident.

If I held my breath for about twenty-five seconds, I started to feel hot and panic from the lack of oxygen. In this case, we would only be under for five seconds less than that. I didn't think that it would be possible to do it for longer than thirty.

Even so, once the teacher blew her whistle, all of us, including Will, submerged themselves in the pool. It wasn't too bad for me, given that it was only twenty seconds. Even so, I did suffer under there, and I was only too happy when the buzzer went off and I was allowed to resurface.

When I got back up to the surface, I saw that everyone else had as well.

"Congratulations, cadets. You have all passed this test. Now, it's time to practice your front crawl again".

We did more strokes, as well as some more treading water, over the next hour. By the end of it, my mouth was dry, and my limbs felt like jelly. This was some serious training!

After all of that, I could not wait to get some lunch before my next class.

Will and I arrived back in the dining hall to find that lunch was hamburgers today. All of the fixings, like lettuce, tomato, pickles, cheese, and onions, were there, as well as plenty of buns. It smelled great, and I was fairly sure that it was going to taste great as well.

I was not disappointed.

"These burgers are awesome!" Mike said, which might have only been the fourth time in two days that I had ever heard him speak.

I nodded. It really was one of the best hamburgers that I had ever had, and I'm being completely serious on that. The only thing was, I kept looking over at the hallway to my dormitory. I didn't remember why at first, and as I ate and chatted with Cole, I became increasingly nervous. What was drawing my gaze towards that stairwell?

It was only after lunch, and climbing up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor of the school, that I reached the dorm room again for Rest Hour. This consisted of sitting back on your bed and either reading, drawing, or trying to sleep. I wasn't too big a fan of it (I would rather have just gone to the next class straight away), but I knew that I had to do it just like everybody else at this school.

About halfway through Rest Hour, I put down the book I was reading and looked over at my schedule. And then, it hit me as to why I had been so nervous.

The next class was Flight Simulators.

I tried to act normal when the other guys in my dormitory decided to start making their way down to the flight simulator room, and I hoped they couldn't tell that I was experiencing a high level of anxiety at the moment. If they could, they would probably end up constantly badgering me about what was wrong, and why I was so worried about the class.

I wasn't sure if trying to keep my breathing deep and calm could make me less likely to pass out, but it seemed that that would probably help a little. The faster I breathed, the more likely it would be that they would have to amputate my legs. That was the key thing to remember.

As we walked down to the room, I once again found myself hoping that we somehow wouldn't have to do it today.

Falco Lombardi was once again the teacher of the class, not like that should have changed. He went through a lot more of the basic rules and regulations, although he said it in a way that made us all think that something was different here than it had been yesterday.

And indeed, I was correct.

"It is now time that all of you will, individually, go into the simulator and try to get as high a score as you can in the video game inside. The simulator will turn just as an Arwing would, so that is one thing to keep in mind. Now, we'll draw for spots, and let's get started".

We all picked rocks out of a bag that Falco seemed to always be carrying with him. Each rock had a number on it that would dictate what order the cadets would use the flight simulators in. For instance, rock 1 would be first, rock 2 would be second, and so on.

I picked rock number four, meaning that I was going to be the fourth person to enter the simulator. I felt much the same way that you do when you are near the front of the line in order to get on a very scary roller coaster. You don't want to get on, you know that it will be terrifying, but you also know that you will need to or else embarrass yourself in a very big way.

The first person to go in was Cole. He must have been in there for around ten minutes, during which time the simulator went up and down, and eventually, towards the end, into a nosedive. I didn't know if that increased the Gz forces on the body or what, but I was about to find out. Throughout the whole time Cole was in there, I saw Falco with a headset on, communicating things to Cole that I could not quite make out.

Cole got out of the simulator, looking a little unsteady on his feet but otherwise unharmed. Of course, Cole was only 5'9", whereas I was 6'2". There was no way to guarantee that everything would be the same way with me, although I sure as hell hoped that it would.

The next two cadets went in and out of the simulator, both of them looking not too different from Cole McCallen. I would be fine. Probably. Almost certainly. That was what I told myself.

Finally, Falco said, "Lucas Enfield! It's your turn!"

I walked over to the simulator and climbed into it. Falco helped me adjust the harness, like he had for the other three cadets who had come before me. Then, he winked at me, saying "Good luck, Lucas".

Then, he closed the door, and the simulator whirred to life.

At first, things were going great. The machine seemed to be making small movements, and I definitely was doing a good job in staying focused on what was going on on the screen. I noticed that the display looked like we were about to be going into a level from Star Fox 64.

"Choose your difficulty. Will you do Sector Y, Zoness, or Area 6?"

"Sector Y, Lucas. Everyone else is doing the easiest difficulty setting first. Don't worry, it's just like a video game. You like those, don't you?"

I tapped the button for Sector Y, the "beginner" difficulty, even though it was on the hard route in the game. Almost immediately, I was thrust into the same level from the game. I recognized this, didn't I?

I knew that I had played this level before, so I quickly got into the groove. I had never flown a real plane, though, but an amusement park ride I had been on when I was younger had similar controls. You had to push on the wheel in the opposite direction of the one you wanted to go. Of course, there was a world of difference between that and being an actual pilot, and no doubt I would acquire other skills related to this.

Focus, Lucas, I thought. And it was true.

Enemies seemed to be hounding me even at this easy level, and I wondered if Cole had played a lot of video games back in Michigan. I knew that you would need to be skilled in order to avoid getting hit even once.

Speaking of getting hit, it soon became clear that this was not a normal video game. Every time I got hit with a laser, the machine I was in jerked, which knocked me about a little bit. Luckily, I was harnessed in, so I wasn't going to end up upside down on the ceiling. At least, I sure as hell hoped not.

Every so often, I got commands from Falco as to what to do. For instance, at the part of the level where you are given the choice to go up or down, he told me to go up, as it would give me the most practice. I saw no reason not to obey him, so that was what I did.

As soon as I had gotten a score of 40, somewhat pleased with myself, something out of the ordinary began to happen. Even more out of the ordinary than the last two days had been.

The module began doing uncontrollable barrel rolls, or, according to the Game Theory show on YouTube, Aileron rolls. I was flipping over and over again, much like Darth Vader's TIE fighter, or a broken teacup ride at an amusement park. There was nothing I could do in order to stop it. And I had not seen it happen to anyone else, so why me?

I could hear through the headset that Falco was uttering some choice words about it. Clearly, this was not supposed to happen.

I tried to continue enjoying the ride. However, I was soon flipping to the point that I could barely see. In addition, I began feeling nauseous, as if I had eaten much more than I should have at Thanksgiving dinner. Almost immediately, I knew that I was in danger of having a five-star Cornerian burger end up plastered, covered in mucus, all over the inside of the flight simulator.

Luckily, I managed to swallow back my nausea. Unluckily, that wasn't the end of it. The next terror was far worse.

I began feeling hot flashes all over my body. My stomach was still churning, but not nearly as badly as it had been before. It was as though I was in a heated room wearing a fur coat. I had never been this hot in my life.

What was going on?

I heard Falco say something, probably to ask me if I was okay due to the fact that I wasn't saying much, but I couldn't make out what. It was as though I was underwater. I could still see the screen somewhat, but it was dark and blurry, the way things sometimes were if I stood up quickly after lying down and not drinking enough water.

And still it kept spinning around. I felt like I was in danger of vomiting again. If that happened, there was no doubt in my mind that Falco would get me out of here.

That was, if he even could.

I didn't worry about it for too much longer, however. This wasn't for the reason that you might think.

The last of my vision and hearing faded, and so did my thoughts as I was thrown backwards for the final time and passed out.