The War That Cannot be Won

Chapter 7

 My mouth is dry. It's been two days, and evaluation is in 30 minutes. My dad has not seen me yet, but I have seen him several times. Each time, I have quickly looked away and attempted to hide my face. The soldiers are lining us up, each of them carries a gun. I review the plan in my head, again and again, sweating from nervousness.

I make sure I am placed in the line close to my dad. The soldier who called the names at the draft stands up and pulls out a thick packet with names scribbled on it.

"When your name is called go to the white medical tent. If you aren't supposed to be here say your prayers now, 'cuz you'll either be sent home," he pauses and shows his yellow teeth, "or we'll have a little fun."

I start shaking again and attempt to refocus myself.

This is the only way. Remember who you are doing this for. You have to save him, and you have to save your dad.

Part of the tension drains out of me, but most stays. I try to stare straight ahead and focus on the names being called.

The list is not in any order, not alphabetical or age or gender. I start to think of how much easier life was before the war, the click of a button and you could automatically organize by any of those things.

I start to wonder why there are so many names, after all, only five were drafted. I look around and realize that in my stress-clouded world I didn't realize that several other recruits from different towns had joined us.

"Alan Sage." It's now or never. I'm shaking so badly and I cannot think straight, but I try to walk forward confidently.

"I am Alana Sage." I hear my dad gasp behind me, but he doesn't say anything. I knew he wouldn't. Of course, the thing he would want most would be to save me, I've no doubt of that. But he won't because he is too scared. I was counting on that, but still, the last hope inside me dies as he remains silent.

I'm also counting on the fact that the soldiers who went to my town don't care enough to remember anyone that they ruined.

They don't. After a brief discussion, they decide that there must have been a minor error and the soldier reading the names turns to me.

"Go get your checkup, Alana." He says the name like he is talking to a small child.

I hold my chin high and walk towards the tent, hoping they cannot see the sweat all over me, and my shaking hands.

When I walk into the tent I see two neat rows of white curtains. A tall man in white gestures towards an open one. Walking into it I throw my pack on the ground and sit on the small white stool in the middle of the enclosure. The tall man follows me and shuts the curtain behind me.

"You're, Alan Sage?" He says looking down at a sheet with sloppy handwriting on it and raising an eyebrow.

"Alana," I say, my voice coming out as a small croak. I cough to clear my throat then look at him expectantly.

"Obviously since the war, our medical practices have been somewhat," he sighs, "limited. Instead of a traditional checkup, you will be asked a series of questions about if you are fit to duty. Do not bother to lie, this is routine only and everyone continues to service."

I look at him in confusion.

What's the point then?

I shake my head in bewilderment and then open my mouth to reply. Before I can speak, he cuts me off.

"Is there any history of heart disease in your family?"

I shake my head, fighting off a yawn.

"Do you, or a family member struggle when it comes to physical activity?"

Again, I shake my head.

The questions continue. Pointless information that the doctor is not even writing down. I doubt any of this is relevant and I start to question the point of this charade.

"Do you or your family have any history with: the design of, power of, or methods of the robots?"

I look up sharply. The question catches me totally off guard, compared to the seemingly random medical questions. I assume that is the point, to make it more difficult to lie. This must be the only question they want an answer to anyway. As I think this I notice the doctor now has a pencil and is taking rapid notes, presumably about my reaction.

"Not that I am aware of," I say looking straight ahead.

He continues to write and then squints and stares at me for a minute.

"That will be all, Alana. Exit the same way you entered and wait in line until the names have all been called."

"Yes, sir."