INSOLENCE

CHAPTER 5

The quad copter slowly loses altitude and lurches forward, before jolting backward to a complete stop. We hear the mechanical click as we're connected to the loft for boarding. A burly man opens the garage door and smiles.

"You must be our new soldiers."

We undo our restraints and carefully stand, walking towards him.

"C'mon, I'll show you around."

* * *

The training loft is surely larger than my loft, and people are constantly coming and going from this one. Only a few officials and instructors are stationed here long term.

The man first takes us to our dormitories and measures us for the size of clothes we'll be wearing. He collects our fingerprints so we can use them as identification for various things around the loft, and then takes us to the dining hall.

As soon as we enter, everyone at the tables stand and begin clapping. The man shouts, "Welcome our new drafts from the New York loft!"

I force a smile as I try to seem excited about being here, even though I'm feeling awful about everything inside.

The man tells us to collect our rations from a large table on the left side of the room and meet him in the main square after we're finished eating. It's apparently just outside.

I scan my finger and a plate ejects from a small horizontal hole on the wall. An old woman hands me a pre-packaged meal on my plate, and I go sit down beside Blake. Shortly after, another boy joins us.

He gives me a cold stare even though a thin smile is all the way across his face, revealing shiny teeth.

"Hi," he says. "My name is Bonus Tranquell."

I nod to him. "Hi, I'm Aero Rank."

He moves his state from me to Blake and begins asking him about various things. I try to pipe in from time to time, but the boy doesn't seem to notice. Eventually I stop and just listen.

After I finish my stale sandwich, I stand and ask Blake if he's going to come with me to the square. He doesn't even look at me. I say nothing and just move on, heading out the back doors to find a large group of drafts standing around the man who gave us a tour earlier.

"Once everyone gets here," he says, "We'll be making the necessary cuts."

I'm confused, but it's too loud to ask him what he's talking about. After a larger crowd gathers, he blows a whistle.

"Everyone line up! Shoulder to shoulder, arms length apart! Let's move!"

He pulls a small handgun from his pocket and it gleams in the sunlight. I take notice of this as I quickly find a place in a row towards the back.

My view is obstructed, but I hear the first gunshot.

Several screams erupt from the crowd, but the man blows his whistle again to quiet everyone down.

"KEEP MOVING!" He bellows. "I'm watching for people who can't even take orders, and if I see even the smallest mistake..."

Bang.

It's now that I see the bodies on the ground. They both look to be no older than twelve. Another two shots fire from the man's gun before everyone has found a spot in line.

Two instructors in white berets and uniforms drag the lifeless corpses away, and the man blows his whistle again.

"Listen carefully." He begins. "I'm what you call an overseer. Overseer Winston to be exact. You will only refer to me as sir or Overseer Winston. If you  don't, well..."

As he trails off I know just what's going to happen. He raises his gun and shoots blindly. The boy next to me drops to the ground in agony. The overseer has shot him in the leg. A boy in the row in front of us begins to step forward, and the overseer just observes.

"Why do you think...?" The boy begins.

The overseer steps towards the boy and holds a gun just a few inches in front of his chest. The boy's face looks flushed, but he continues.

"Why do you think you can just kill people like that? What makes you think you can just waste human life? They had families back home that loved them and cared about them!"

The overseer chuckles quietly as he pulls the trigger.

"I am your leader, private," He says to the dead boy. "Not your friend. What makes you think you can just question me like that?"

He steps over him and begins coming my way to the injured draft on the ground. He looks at me and says, "He's hurt, isn't he?"

I nod. "Yes, sir."

The overseer hands me his gun. The metal feels cool and slick in my hand. This very gun has surely killed hundreds.

"Well then," the overseer says. "You're going to dispose of him, right?"

I look at the overseer. Everyone is watching me.

"Come again, sir?"

He shakes his head slowly, making a tsk tsk noise with his tongue. "Kill him."

"I'd rather not, sir."

The overseer pierces my eyes with his. "That's an order, private."

I hold the gun up shakily, and the injured boy looks at me, his eyes pleading me not to pull the trigger.

"Do it," the overseer urges. "We haven't the time for moral decisions."

I'm on the verge of shooting the overseer, but I know now isn't the right time to do something like that.

And I know I need to get back home.

I pull the trigger and watch the boy's eyes go dark. I hand the gun back to the overseer.

"Very good," he says simply. "These kids could learn something from you."

* * *

That night, I don't sleep. We aren't allowed to write letters home until next week, and I already know the first week will feel like eternity.

Today, I keep thinking, I killed someone.

Today, I keep thinking, I crossed that line earlier than expected.

Today, I keep thinking, I realized the cruelty of this all.

But mostly, I think that today, I began to truly understand how so many passive Americans feel.

Tori's fiery spirit from yesterday keeps trying to take hold of me, and I'm even closer than before to letting it.