Ryan opened his eyes slowly, squinting when bright light shone in his face. The curtains were pushed aside, letting sun brighten the room. A glance at his clock told him it was 7:58AM, just minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. He reached over, turned off the alarm, and pushed aside the bed sheets.
The wood floor numbed his feet with cold, but Ryan ignored the feeling as he padded over to his mirror and stared at his reflection with bleary eyes. Middling brown hair stuck up at all angles on his head. He'd never been quite able to tame it, but cutting it short usually helped. Ryan fingered a lock — perhaps he should get a hair cut. Dusty hazel eyes stared back at him as he tried to flatten his hair, and failed.
Yawning, Ryan grabbed a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a brown hoodie with orange trim and headed to the bathroom to get changed. Once he'd finished, he leaned over the bathroom sink, automatically grabbing his father's razor and shaving cream. His mind worked on automatic as he started to lather, but then he stopped, eyes snapping wide open.
Why was he trying to shave? He was twelve years old, and he hadn't hit puberty yet. He didn't even know how to shave.
Embarrassed, he washed off his hands and face, then ran a comb through his hair. His reflection looked more presentable now, though his hair was still messier than he would've liked. The recruiters didn't care about looks, but he wanted to present a favorable image of himself to them. He didn't want them to think he was only a small-town country boy, lacking in talent and training.
He looked himself over again, and absently, he rubbed at his jawline, feeling for a ridged scar. Except there was none; his cheek felt smooth and soft to the touch. Ryan stared back at his reflection and lowered his hand. His eyes flickered in the light as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Common sense told him that he was just tired, and that his brain needed a wake-up call. Something pressed at the back of his mind that told him otherwise.
"What am I doing?" he muttered, zipping up his hoodie. Ryan made a detour and grabbed his watch from his room, tightening it around his wrist so it was snug. He pushed aside his thoughts and headed downstairs. The smell of bacon and eggs filtered through the house, and as he entered the kitchen, his mother turned around to face him. Kathy Phillips gave her son a brilliant smile before turning back to her cooking.
"Morning," she said cheerily. Kathy read Ryan's surprised look and chuckled. "Recruitment test day. Thought I'd make something special for you," she explained.
Ryan nodded. "Thank you," he said, grabbing a glass from the fridge and finding the orange juice powder in the cupboard. Fresh groceries had upped in price ever since the climate started to collapse and resources started dwindling rapidly. Nowadays, it was common to eat freeze dried food, canned fruits and vegetables, or the protein rations that came in silver foil and plastic packaging and carried some sort of stew-like cold paste. None of those options were particularly appetizing, but it sustained them. To have eggs that weren't powdered was something of a luxury for common folk.
Ryan's family didn't farm, but they'd gotten a couple of chickens a while back, and so they ate eggs regularly. They sold them to neighboring families, which helped with keeping their household afloat. Ryan's father was a college professor and Kathy an elementary school nurse, and together, their salaries made enough to have a comfortable life in the town of Norris.
Ryan poured the orange-colored powder into his glass, then turned on the tap and filled it with water. He sloshed his drink around for a few seconds before taking a sip. The orange juice tasted fake and overly sweet, which was odd because it was his favorite drink.
He eyed it with scrutiny. "Mom, was this always so sweet?" he asked.
Kathy glanced at him before piling eggs on a plate. "I thought you liked sweets," she replied. She set the pan in the sink, then brought over their breakfast. Ryan pulled back his chair and took a seat, putting his drink down on the table.
Ryan nodded, then frowned. "But it's extra sweet," he noted. Kathy frowned and took a sip, testing. She shrugged.
"Seems as sweet as before," she said. She looked him over with concern in her eyes. "Ryan, are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine," he replied, and decided not to push the subject further. The day was turning out all sorts of wrong, and he hoped the streak wouldn't last to the recruitment test. He needed to do well if he wanted to enter the Galactic Army. Only the best recruits could become commanders, generals, and starfighter pilots. The benefits were good, joining didn't require you to have an extended knowledge of science, and the money could sustain families for years. Those who didn't get in had to look for other jobs, with the most common being factory workers that processed foods or those that made spaceship parts. The downside was, you'd most likely never see that family again.
His parents hoped that Ryan wouldn't be recruited to the Galactic Army. They recruited at the tender age of twelve and sent their children into space, where they would train for years to become pilots. And after training, they'd be shipped off to the front lines of the war to fight the Kentauri. But the tests were mandatory, and Ryan had expressed his desire to become a pilot since a young age. Reluctantly, his parents gave him their blessing.
Ryan scarfed down his breakfast, washed his dishes, then put them out to dry. His watch read '8:18AM' in light blue digital. The doors opened at nine in the morning, but he knew there'd be a line-up for the test and he wanted to arrive early. Jimmy and Evan would be there as well.
"Are you ready to go?" Ryan asked, looking up at his mother. Kathy smiled and grabbed her dark brown coat.
"Don't forget your registration papers," she reminded, pushing her arm through a sleeve. Ryan nodded and bolted upstairs. The papers were splayed in a thin, messy pile on his desk, and Ryan quickly flipped through them to make sure everything was filled out. His eyes lingered on the last page, resting on the last line of signatures. His own was scratchy in comparison to the one beside it, a printed copy of General Guinevere Espinoza's. Ryan brushed a thumb over the signature, and a sense of familiarity washed over him as he did.
He blinked and his vision filled with the scene of an office, the entire back wall a window that stared out into space. In the middle of the room was a large carbon desk, and seated behind it was a woman short of stature. Her presence made up for it and filled the room like a large, heavy weight. Short, black hair framed her face, and hazel eyes gazed at him with cold, calculating precision. The twitch of a smile on her face indicated she was otherwise amused. Her slate blue uniform was crisp and orderly, glittering gold medals pinned at her breast. On the table was a small, simple plaque with gold lettering that read 'Guinevere Espinoza', followed by a line of credentials.
Ryan's focus snapped back to the signature, black ink scrawled in multitudes of curved lines. His hands shook as he put down the papers and thrust them into a file. Perhaps he didn't get enough rest last night. Or maybe his nerves were getting to him. Neither excuse felt like a valid explanation for his hallucinations, so he pushed aside his worries and headed downstairs.
Kathy stood in front of the car. She beamed as her son came into view, and she jangled her car keys, signalling that she was ready to leave. The car was parked in the driveway, its faded blue paint dotted with spots of rust and the occasional dent.
"Got everything?" she asked. Ryan nodded and she gave him a thumbs-up. "All right. Let's go."
He opened door and slid into the seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. In that one second of seeing his reflection, his sight was filled with another scene. He saw a reflection in the mirror of a man, his messy, dust-brown hair falling across his forehead. Water dripped from the ends and onto the counter top. Tired lines ringed dark eyes that stared out of the glass. A voice echoed in the room, weary, but holding a faint tinge of hope.
"Ryan, you can do this."
His vision cleared, and Ryan twitched when he felt the pressure of his mother's searching gaze. He bit down on his lip and nodded, looking out the window so she couldn't see how shaken he was. Hopefully, whatever was happening to him wouldn't continue into the exam. If he was struck by some hallucination while in the simulation, it would not bode well for his chances of becoming a pilot.
Kathy wrenched the key and shifted gears, and the car trundled out of the driveway and onto the dusty road. Ryan watched as the scenery passed by in a blur. Trails of smoke dotted the horizon, the sky smothered by factory fumes and a yellowish haze of exhaust. The long stretches of yellow grass indicated failing crops, some with the barest speckles of green, others the unhealthy brown of rot and despair. Every so often, a deserted house came into view, the paint smeared with grime and windows shuttered. Beside a few of the houses stood piles of rusted garbage, great orange collections of broken car parts, oil drums, appliances, and other objects that people simply had no use for.
The teachers and parents tried to be optimistic for their children — "The newest scientific breakthroughs will help restore the climate," they'd say. Or "The Galactic Army will crush the Kentauri and we'll relocate to their planet." — but they couldn't completely protect the youngest generation from the rumors of impeding doom. Within fifteen years, the population had shrunk forty percent, from ten billion to six billion, with the number dwindling every day. The dawn of a new millennium brought with it only the promise of pain and suffering, and the only way escape was either in death or in taking over a planet in another solar system.
Ryan found it worse for his parents in some ways. They were born into a world of plenty, only to watch as everything crumbled before their eyes. His generation knew of sprawling forests and clear blue rivers only from pictures. Ryan couldn't imagine the hills that surrounded his town being surrounded by lush green plants and flourishing crops. A land without yellow was foreign to him.
The town high school appeared in view and Kathy turned the car into the parking lot. They'd arrived slightly under half an hour early, but there was already a small line that stood before the door. The recruitment test would take place in the school gym as it was the largest roofed space in the entire town.
According to the test procedure, there would be a written knowledge test, soon followed by a pilot simulation. Most children would have tried the simulation a few times; it was a mandatory portion of the school curriculum. The activity fell under Physical Education and took up several classes. Those who had more money to spend could practice at the pre-army training center in the city or buy the simulation game and plug it into their virtual reality devices.
Ryan pushed open his door, tucking his file of papers under his arm. He scanned the line for familiar faces, grinning when he found two.
"Jimmy and Evan are already here," he noted, glancing up at his mother. Kathy nodded and leaned in, wrapping her son in a hug.
"Good luck," she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. "You'll do great." Ryan was abashed at such a public display of affection, but he didn't mind it too much if only because he was feeling far more nervous about the test.
He gave a nervous smile. "Thanks. I'll see you later." He waved with his free hand and jogged up to his friends, watching his mother's car leave from the corner of his eye. Dust trailed behind it as it sped away, and Ryan turned his focus back to the two people in front of him.
Jimmy grinned broadly and tapped his watch. "Thought you were going to be late," he noted. Ryan glanced down; the time read 8:34AM.
"Four minutes," he protested. They'd agreed to meet at 8:30.
"Still late." Jimmy's grey eyes twinkled with amusement. He looked like he was hopped up on enough caffeine to make the energizer bunny go berserk. Fingers went from playing with his blonde hair to fiddling with the hems of his sleeves to tapping against his arm or thigh. His smile was bright and confident, his gaze eager.
Evan was the complete opposite. His entire demeanor spoke of calm, though Ryan could tell that he brimming with nervous energy under the cool facade. The white shirt he wore was a stark contrast to his chocolate-colored skin and curly black hair. He was gazing at his notes with determined fervor, reading and re-reading the information.
"Hey, Ryan," Evan said, sparing him a quick glance before looking back down at his notes. "You ready for this?"
Ryan grimaced. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied. Evan nodded and shoved sheets of paper into Ryan's arms.
"Okay, then quiz me." Ryan obliged, and Jimmy didn't pay them much attention while he and Evan ran over information. The line-up steadily grew longer as time passed, and by the nine o'clock mark, it reached past the block and turned the corner.
The doors creaked open and a man stepped out to give his announcement. "Welcome to the Galactic Army recruitment testing," he started in a boring monotone. "Please proceed to register your name at the front desk. You will be given a seat number once you have given in your papers. Phones and other electronic devices will not be tolerated during the exam." He stepped aside to let the first kids through and Ryan watched as the people at the front of the line entered the school.
Jimmy darted into the converging crowd and disappeared. Ryan spotted his blonde hair towards the front, but it was swallowed once he entered the school. Evan took his notes from Ryan and let out a shaky exhale, moving past to get in line.
"Good luck to us," he muttered. The line inched forward.
Ryan set his lips in a grim line and crossed the threshold.
~*~
Chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it — if you did, please consider voting.
What do you think of Earth's situation? What would you do in the face of such a bleak future?
Please share your thoughts about Ryan's strange visions! I'd love to hear what you think. And I'm always open to feedback.
Sincerely,
Salem