Jonathan sat on the white chair, hands folded in front of him, radiating animosity. The chair was made of something hard and shiny and had been formed in such a way that it was both uncomfortable and nearly impossible to sit on without sliding off again onto the floor. Jonathan was not impressed.
The other five sat ranged on either side of him, each in their own poses of disbelief and distrust. Opposite them, the young man smiled with his mouth only and drummed his fingers on the desk between them.
"Two years ago, a project was initiated that would bring about a great future for our people," he announced. "I was lucky enough to be part of that project. I am Colonel March."
March, Jonathan noticed, had the air of a student about him, something slightly chaotic and deranged beneath a show as shiny and hard as the furniture in the room. His eyes were shining brightly with something close to glee.
"And what was this project?" Nigs asked, his voice clipped.
"It involved the six of you," March explained. "You were hand-picked from the youth corps, chosen for your ability, your loyalty and your dedication. You were predicted to be the next great commanders of the age. And, naturally, you volunteered for the privilege. Or, rather, John here volunteered you."
They all turned to stare at Jonathan, who flinched under their gaze.
"I didn't," he said, loudly. "And my name isn't John."
"It is," March smiled indulgently. "John Sandor. The greatest youth commander to be recognised in decades. You had the respect of the high command, soldier, not just your own regiment."
"Regiment," Jonathan echoed.
"You were informed of the project at hand and asked to volunteer six candidates. You chose yourself first, which I believe Field-Marshall Bone was both pleased and a little disconcerted by. Then you selected these five you see beside you now."
Jonathan sat with his mouth open, unable to say a word, unable to even formulate a reply. Impossible though all this sounded, he believed it. He could not help but believe it. It felt like the truth.
"Nigel Measure," March gave Nigs a nod. "Your second-in-command, and your best friend. He was an infantry soldier, known for levelheadedness and personal sacrifice."
"Do you mean me?" Nigs sounded astonished. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I have never been known for personal sacrifice."
March ignored this interruption. "You then selected the leader of your small division of healers, Sam Michael, to accompany you both in this. Your logic for this was never explained, you understand. We never asked for your reasoning."
"Who here is Sam Michael?" Jonathan demanded, looking around.
"Him, of course," March gestured to the boy who had been dancing.
"That's not my name," the boy protested.
YOU ARE READING
Awake
Science FictionWhen Jonathan Sand died one night trying to save the girl he loved, he did not expect to wake up the next morning and find that everything he had ever known was a figment of his imagination. Rising from a simulated dream, six members of the Junior...
