War of Praisers

Chapter 3:

My skin tingles against the cold white fabric of the swimsuit. I'm exited for this training session. It's one of the many I love to do. I stick the rest of my hair into my silver-white cap and put on my thin gloves. In front of me is the clear water of the big pool once again surrounded by white walls, with Watchers lined up against them. Behind me are the Lecturers, the people who train us in our chosen area. I hate them, they're emotionless and uncaring. They only train us for the money, well, I believe that they are paid. Why else would they train us. There are more Lecturers than Experiments. Right now I have two standing behind me, along with three attendants, petite built robots that are also seen as servants. Above us are the monitors where more Lecturers watch me with cameras in the water. I turn towards the Lecturers and let an attendant put the water lenses into my eyes that allow me to see clearly under water. Turning back to the water I dive in with excitement for todays training. Once the bubbles clear from my view I dive deeper into the water and swim past obstacles. I aim for an airhole far to my left, once my head reaches the small confinement of air I take a deep breath and dive back under. I am aware that this pool is 500 meters deep and 300 meters wide and long. I smile at the feeling of the warm water flow against my smooth and pale skin. I try and not look into the lamps aluminating the dark pitches on the water. I surprisingly like the bright light in this water. It gives everything a different view. My hand traces from my foot to my ankle, feeling the familiar bump of the pale white scar, reaching from my heel to above my ankle. I remember every scar and how I got them. The trials have ended, though none of us have been chosen yet. Only four of us have passed, me being one of them. I have no idea how long it will take until the spectator chooses one of us or not. We are never notified and are forced to continue with our training, and that's what I am going to do. I have to stop thinking about the trials and if it's my chance to get out or not. It may not be my chance and maybe not for a very long time. Usually I would never care nor try my hardest, but the longer this seems to drag on the more desperate I want to have a chance of leaving.

After a few hours of training my ability underwater the lights flash with a faint beeping sound, indicating for me to resurface. Pushing myself from a thick pole I float back to the surface, the warm water flowing against my bare back in a soothing motion. My lungs burn once I finally make it back up, but I don't have much time to recover as I am commanded to get out of the water. I lift myself out of the water with the little strength I have left. The water droplets sliding down my hairless skin as I make my way over to the Lecturers and the attendants. One of the attendants scan me quickly and then steps back again. My attention is then directed to the Lecturers as they lecture me, as their name intends, about what I need to improve and what I did wrong. Never have I once witnessed a lecturer actually compliment someone. Because we never actually get complimented we never compliment Praisers among us. Only very few actually do and rarely. As they're done they send me to the drier and then back to my chamber until dinner.

Lead by two Watchers, in my dried backless suit and thin ankle boots, back to my chamber and am left alone as soon as my door closes. The personal chambers are some of the only rooms without active cameras. The camera in the far corner of the room hasn't been activated in many years, giving me the privacy I desperately needed.

The room I have grown up in almost most of my life is medium sized and contained only the basics. A single bed in a hole on the wall, a slide cupboard that contained my underwear and suits and another one next to it for my gadgets for training or personal entertainment. Also not to forget the small bathroom connected by another silent automatic slide door. Containing a shower, toilet, sink and toiletries that never seem to run out as they are always refilled when I am not present.

Stripping from my swimsuit I take a thin material white one without sleeves. My number is on my back written with bald orange letters. I hate the numbers they give us. I hate it that they haven't given us a name. We are nothing but trained war slaves to them waiting to be sold and used for battle. I could have it much worse, I could be in the blue facility where they just train ordinary house slaves or even the horrible fate of a trophy wife or trophy husband. Although I must admit that some of the trophy wives are extremely beautiful. I am better off than the purple facility, where they educate them to no end for various options. The red facility is trained for battles and other combat reasons. The orange doesn't have as many people as the others. We are trained for almost everything, mostly to be apprentices for the ones who buy us, and mostly assassins. Still all of the six Facilities have one thing in common, we have no choice with what happens to us. We are owned. We are all slaves.