Beep, beep, beep! You shuffle around in your bed but it feels different. Unfamiliar. You open your coffee-brown eyes to glance at the flashing alarm clock on the sophisticated, wooden bedside table but you are immediately blinded by the dazzle radiating from the glaring LED-lit screen and the light reflecting off the mirror also installed on the table. You catch a glimpse of the time but immediately you groan and drop your head back on the feathered pillow, contemplating where you are. You recognise the smell, but you can’t remember where from. It smells like disinfectant. The toilet? Home? Oh wait; it can’t be where you think it is. Before you open your eyes, you breath out and hope to yourself it’s not that place, that dreaded place. 3… 2… You are rudely interrupted by an announcement, which after you hear, you sink in your bed and sigh. The hospital. Of course. Where else could you be? After remembering why you’re in hospital, you decide to take heed of the broadcast and get ready for the important briefing after wasting 2 of the available 10 minutes already. Using the tablet device mounted in the bedside table, you order a glass of water and get your clothes ready using the advanced technology available in the hospital. You also notice a notification at the top of the screen, which is telling you that you may leave the hospital when you’re ready, since you’ve fully recovered. After all, it was a brand new hospital. You proceed to get out of bed whilst scratching your curly, brown hair, which match your eyes and contrast the cream of the walls. 5 minutes or trouble. You down the glass of water then step into the wardrobe containing your clothes. 2 seconds pass, then you step out, dressed in your white polo and tracksuit bottoms. Not the smartest of clothes but it will do for now. In a blur, you make your bed and switch off the lamps. The stampede in the bright corridor is quickly growing but you have to join in immediately. You crash your way through to as close to the front as possible, in order to avoid being late like last time, but no one notices you. You wonder why, but immediately dismiss the thought as you arrive at the briefing room.

As you enter the colourfully lit room, everyone turns silent. You feel strangely awkward. You don’t know why, but you think it’s because you’ve been in this same briefing for the third time now. You’re curious if anyone else failed as many times as you as you walk along the side aisle to try and locate a seat. As you sit down, you recognise someone. You remember he was in the train with you last time. So you’re not the only one. Reassuring. You relax in your seat as you wait for the briefing to start. You debate in your head whether or not to actively listen to the briefing or not, since you’d already heard twice before, but decide it’d be a good idea to avoid having to do this whole process over again. You turn around and see that the hall is full. Young and old. You wonder how 7 year olds are doing the same level as even people older than you, maybe 17. Unusual. From the expression on everyone else’s face, you guess no one else has noticed. Having sat there for 2 minutes now, the briefing finally starts. The room suddenly turns dark as the cinema-sized screen starts to shine brightly, showing the first slide of the familiar presentation. The wonted equipment shown on the monitor seems alien. So does the destination and the route you must take. Before you know it, everyone is being dismissed. You have 30 minutes to get all your kit ready and prepared and to meet at the hi-speed station so you swiftly rush off to return to your dormitory rather than the hospital ward. You know that it’s faster to take the multi-directional lift, but you also know that everyone else would go that way. When you get there, you place your eye over the iris scanner to unlock the door, and then it takes you several attempts to enter the pin correctly. You have no time to mess around in your room, because you want to be prompt for your task. Straightaway, you step into an exact clone of the wardrobe in the hospital ward. Programmed already to the kit you must wear. When you step out of the wardrobe you once again experience that familiar feeling that still seems somewhat new. With a somewhat sense of urgency, you advance towards the meeting point. The corridors are deserted, probably because you still have plenty of time, so you figure it’s a good idea to stop for a quick glass of water. You’re determined to succeed this time. You know you will. As you near the automatic doors for the station, you take a deep breath and reflect on your earlier attempts. Instead of waiting on the cold platform, you decide to take a seat in the first-class seats. After all, it was first come, first served. Before you know it, the train is filling up and then abruptly you feel that sharp pain in your left arm.

You wake up just as you arrive at the destination. Casually, you stroll off the train, since you know you can only succeed having had all this practice. Something in your head is hindering you though. The bright sunlight hurts your eyes so you decide to try and keep your head quite low. You need to board the helicopter with your ID number on it but you know the exact position of it. Hesitantly, you embark onto the helicopter and it starts moving as soon as you buckle up your seat belt. In front of you is a monitor, which tells you how far is left. As the distance runs down to less than 100 metres, you start getting into position. You notice that the altitude reads 12,521 feet. That’s high. Your stomach is in knots. You ponder on this height but then you realise that it can only make this seem worse. As you edge closer to the edge of the helicopter you feel the urge to sit down and relax. But no, you can’t. You have to do this, no matter what. You have to move onto the next level in the organisation. Doing this will earn you a large amount of respect from the organisation, this is a big step up from the previous rank. From Novice to Adept. Senior rather than junior. You snap out of this musing and puff your cheeks. It’s now or never. You tentatively pull open the sliding door. This is it. You close your eyes but then decide that’s a bad idea. Come on. You can do this. You step off the helicopter. You think how amazing this feeling is, all that adrenaline rushing. As you start to get closer to land, you pull your parachute open. You fall through the barrier to upgrade your rank!