May 25th, 2066

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The one-armed soldier-to-be's name is Morgan. Beside him is a friend of his, Trent, who also wants to fight in the war. He's even wearing a U.S. military uniform, so I guess he has experience.

Trent isn't technically an imperfect, but he isn't white. By his estimation, it's only a matter of time before non-white skin is added to the list of imperfection qualifiers. Racism has been rampant in the United States for centuries, now, and it never really got better, so I see his point.

It's not surprising that race wasn't an initial qualifier in the bill. That would have been much more difficult to pass, since several members of the U.S. government aren't white. The bill passed so easily in part because few of the people in power are imperfect, so it didn't apply to them. In fact, the only people to vote no were those who knew they qualified for imperfection (mostly from age).

Now that the bill has been signed into law, it'll be easier to add qualifiers so that it represents exactly what its intention is: an exclusive and bigoted notion of purity and the formation of what is seen as a utopia in the eyes of those who believe they represent the highest form of humanity. To me, it's not purity, it's wickedness.

Trent, Morgan, and I have agreed to do our best to sit with one another on the flight to Australia. It's good to know that I'll still have company even after Jess is gone.

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