After everything I've had to deal with since entering this school, I think I've earned a moment to myself. I sit myself down at the far edges and dig through my bright green backpack for the lunch Daniel provided for me. Daniel always prepared my meals for me, which isn't as difficult as it sounds seeing as how he always prepared the same thing. A single meal that contained every vitamin needed, and with the exact number of calories recommended for a child my age measured with perfect accuracy. There's not a single food scrap that isn't needed, and not a single nutritional need that isn't accounted for. Daniel is nothing if not efficient. I don't mind the lack of variety. It's food, and that's all I really need. The fact that it's catered so perfectly to my nutritional needs makes it more appealing. At least I have assurance that I'll always have something to eat and that it won't poison me. I begin eating without any ceremony. My meal goes quickly, as they tend to do when you have nothing to distract from the goal at hand and, for reasons mentioned before, I learned to be a fast eater. I'm done after three minutes. This leaves me with 46 minutes and 32 seconds of nothing to do. I'm not exactly unaccustomed to long periods of waiting around, *fake_choice #But I still prefer having something to do It's hard to tell when really nothing is going on, or something is going on and you're just not aware of it. At least when something is happening right in front of me I know what it is and how to deal with it. I can't stand being in the dark. #In fact, I enjoy the peace *set reflex -1 Anyone logically would, after living through the alternative. Silence meant nobody was shooting at me. [i]Someone[/i] was getting hurt, someone was always getting hurt, but at least I was at a safe distance from it. From my vantage point, I pass the time by casually scanning the room and making note of different points of interest. Exits, fire extinguishers, cameras, windows. Especially the people. People are interesting to try to read, no two are exactly the same. I tend not to bother on the job for exactly that reason, you want to avoid any and all interesting things when it really matters, but it is a good way to kill time. Practicing with more complex analysis' makes it easier to quickly act during less complicated ones. Looking at them, I try to pick out common characteristics. They're disorderly, rambunctious, nobody seems to want to sit still for too long. Talkative, too. If you look from table to table, only one in ten have finished their food, only one in five have even touched it. They clearly aren't in any kind of hurry. There's nobody forcing them along, no fear of being too late or of making a mistake. I wouldn't say they're at peace, that's not the word I would describe them with. Carefree. I think that's the moment that it really became clear to me. I don't belong here. All these people are just living their lives, completely unaware of how bad it could be. There's more than just geography separating them from the world I came from. They may have an academic knowledge, but they don't actually believe in it. For them, this is their entire world. This freedom and belonging. They worry about all the petty little details of their lives because they can. There's nobody who's trying to stop them or control them or kill them. Now I know what the other kids were talking about when they wanted to get away. They were looking for this. *page_break ... [i]They were trying to get away... *page_break ... [i]They were trying to get away...to this... *page_break [i]I feel numb... [i]The tables are lined up in rows... It becomes harder to look at the other students. Their faces start blurring, their voices drifting into the background. [i]Nobody speaks... I can't focus on anything. There's a ringing in the back of my head as everything drifts out of frame. [i]We're eating. Just eating. We only have five minutes, no time for anything else. Need to be healthy enough to fight later. *page_break [i]There aren't a whole lot of lights in the mess hall [i]All I see is the food in front of me. No time to look at anything else. Need to finish before we run out of time or I won't have enough energy. Have a special job today, escorting an officer, cannot fail. [i]There's a bang. Someone slammed open a door and walked in. Heavy boots. Someone important walked in. [i]I look up. They made noise, they want us to notice them. They walk down the row of tables. *page_break [i]They stop in front of Bugs [i]It's not his name. He doesn't have a name. None of us did, so we gave each other nicknames, but they weren't real names. Humans had names. [i]He was Bugs, because he never sat still and seemed to be everywhere. No matter where you went, he was always there. The kid just didn't know how to stay in one place. But he wanted a real name. Planned to get one. [i]Planned to leave and go get one. Away from here. *page_break [i]Someone talked [i]Some of us heard that Bugs was looking for a way out. None of us thought he would actually find a way. He must have been getting close for them to actually do something about it. [i]I'm not sure what exactly was the last straw. I don't know what exactly he had been planning to do, or who knew about it. I just know there was a plan. [i]And since there was a plan, someone talked about it. *page_break [i]I know, because someone always talks [i]There isn't an announcement. They grab Bugs and push him onto the table, ruining the food that's laid across it, and pressing his head down on the wooden surface by the neck. Bugs is screaming. Hard to not notice. [i]One has him secure, and another comes over from the other side with a hammer. [i]We all watch. [i]I watch. [i]And I don't say a word. [i]Not one word. [i]Not when the hammer comes down on Bugs' temple. Crashes through the skull, crushes his right eye, didn't touch his brain though since he's still screaming. It's the second strike that does it for him. Parts of grey matter fall out. If it were my table, I'd have been upset at having Bugs in my food. [i]Once he's not moving anymore, they leave him lying limp on the table. Someone else will have to clean him up. Probably us, since he was one of ours. Most of them leave, though one stays behind. [i]The Officer. [i]He had other names, but he was always just The Officer to me. He stays and looks at us, looking for any sign of rebellion. [i]Nobody says a word. I don't say a word. Not one word. [i]After a moment, he nods and goes with the rest. [i]He got his message across. *page_break [i]I had been promoted that day [i]Special mission that day let me prove my worth. Got promoted. [i]Never had to set foot in another mess hall again. *page_break Until today Sometimes I wonder how much time he had left. Probably not much. If it wasn't that day, it would have been some other. The kid was never going to survive. I'm probably the only one alive who even remembers him. *fake_choice #It was just another death #But for some reason, I never forgot it #Maybe because I saved his murderer's life that day, an action I'll always regret #Maybe because it was while I was eating #Either way, they all deserve to die for it I look again at the children surrounding me. Kids who were allowed to be kids, and I realize that if I told them any of what I'd come from they'd have no idea what I was talking about. I'm often alone, but this is one the few times I actually feel it. And when the bell rings, they all shuffle out. Completely oblivious. While all I can really do is watch. I really hate lunchrooms. *page_break Sixth hour... *goto_scene 1-10sixth-1