"War does not determine who is right—only who is left." -Bertrand Russell

(2,171/27,603 Words) Chapter 1 - Luis

The school bus suddenly stops with a shock on the new gravel ground. It was going to be a place we were going to be familiar with for a week, and I'm not sure if I could stand that. I've always had an issue with getting used to things. It's a lot like jet lag. Once you get settled down into the new, unfamiliar environment, and just when you thought that it would be a new home away from home, you're torn back. A week seemed like enough of a time for me to get used to things, but not enough for me to protest to stay.

When we walk out of the bus, we were immediately separated into groups, the genders being split entirely. My bunch consisted of two classmates, and the rest was just other students. It was the first thing we did. The moment we stepped off, they were trying to stall us. I didn't know what they were trying to stall for, but the staff kept whispering among themselves. It was cold, it was getting progressively dark, and we've had an excessively long ride. We didn't want to stay outside any longer.

The topic of discussion was something about what we liked. 'So, it's gonna be one of these kinds of people...' I thought to myself. You know the ones, the ones that treat us like we're little kids, like we've never seen the real world before. They force us to ignore problems of the world, and try to blanket us with some sense of security from the bad of "Out There". I don't know why they do this, because they seem capable of speaking by themselves.

I didn't think of it as much back then, but, it'll definitely come back to me sooner or later. Simply something about it just...bothers me. It doesn't quite sit right.

"Peanut butter," one said. "It doesn't have as much fat. But it has a lot of milk." Immediately, almost dutifully, one of my other classmates speaks up.

"Well, milk has a lot of lactose in it right? That's fat," he says. It wasn't demeaning, it wasn't with a negative connotation; it was a simple admonishment. He looks at others as if to check and see if he was wrong, which he wasn't. The first guy mentioned it even nodded in agreement. "And sugar from peanut butter-"

The group leader who worked for the staff  steps in. "Now, we can respect each others' opinions. Everyone has their mind," they begin, talking down on us. It wasn't an opinion. It was a fact. I wanted so badly to say that, regardless of what the fact was, that's not how you should talk, especially to us. We may be in sixth grade, but as mentioned before, we've seen the real world.

Yet again, it may not even be their fault. It might just be a contractual obligation, or something similar like that that forces them out of their regular way of conversation. However, I couldn't see it in them. Usually, you can sense something isn't rubbing them the right way in their eyes, in their body language, in how they talk to each other. But here? I didn't see anything.

Whatever, it wasn't anything big. I'll let it slide.

After a while of "bonding", we filed towards the Mess Hall, which was where we were going to be eating as a whole. The first thing I remembered was how much it reminded me of a customs station in an airport. Everyone was deep in conversation, the walls looked plain and professional and there wasn't a single happy soul in the room. The route for newcomers was a counterclockwise rotation of stations alongside the perimeter of the interior.

The first station looked easy enough; all we had to do was line up for a photo taken. I was handed a form from one of the staff that worked there with a necklace. The necklace had a wooden medallion that was written in Sharpie, "Trowel". Were names prohibited here as well?

The form asked peculiarly specific personal questions. At first it asked for my age and date of birth, but then, when it was my turn, I leaned against the wall with my back straight, standing on a scale. Why were they asking me for this? Is this really needed to learn a bit in the outdoors?

I turn in the form to another staff member behind a glass pane. NOW it feels like a customs booth. This time, the medallion had "Thorn" written on it. They took my picture next to the tape measure against the wall, specifically demanding that I keep a neutral face. The bored looking woman staring back at me stamps the form I gave her as she motions me to the next booth, which, might I add, took five minutes to get to the front. Another glass station was waiting for me with another bored staff member.

Without looking up from a different form she was filling out, she asks me, "What school have you arrived from?"

"St. Therese School," I reply. Thirty, boring uneventful seconds pass as she fills in the little boxes.

"Grade?"

"Sixth."

"Age?"

"I'm twelve." She nods as she quickly finishes it. Just like the past booth, she stamps it with green and tells me to go to the booth directly opposite across the entrance. The next booth, which also took about five minutes to reach. It had another staff member that was genuinely trying to look happy, but it wasn't hard to notice.

This booth's owner gave each one in line a pamphlet which consisted of what this Outdoor School really was. As we waited in a longer time than before the final station, I scan over the contents of the professionally typed and what looked like a government-issued document. The first thing I noticed was the mission statement; a long paragraph summarizing the fact that this was an educational, field-based program to teach kids about the outdoors.

And heavy authoritarianism.

A "PERCH" acrostic was below the mission statement, listing the values and ideals of the Outdoor School program. My eyes widen.

Progress - A still soldier is a dead soldier. We must press forward to advance River Valley's well-being.

Economy - A stable financial situation is a continuous goal we must strive for as a unit.

Resolution - Leave no problem unsolved, even if it is with great sacrifice.

Community - We must work together not as individuals, but together as one body.

Hope - No matter how long we wait, we will always achieve our goal.

Long Live the River Valley.

River Valley? I keep reading  and flip to the next section of the pamphlet. Portraits of staff members were displayed along with the position they were in. At the top was the representative of this whole ordeal. He was the only familiar face that wasn't my classmate.

None of their real names were shown with their corresponding photos. They were nicknames, and the one at top was simply titled "Snake", presumably the president. He was the one that introduced the school to this outdoor school program!

Who thought this was a good idea to enforce and fund? Were people even aware of this going on, or were they simply silenced? My bad feeling progressively grew to panic. What did I get myself into? What did everyone get themselves into?

I eventually reach the final booth. I was handed an ID card as well as a printed document labeled as a PROFILE SHEET. The staff member behind the counter says to us, "Keep these safe. Don't lose them. You won't get another." In the distance, I see an armed guard with a blowdart gun. My gut started to turn after seeing the weapon this man held. Is his ammunition lethal? If so, why is it here? Cautiously, I walk up to him as he looks at my profile sheet. More questions pile up faster than I can answer them.

"Cabin A1. Follow the signs." I did as told and exited the mess hall. I still couldn't shake the possibility that this could a ruse, but what kind of twisted mind thought that this was an okay kind of joke? I look at my profile sheet and ID. On the ID card was my photo, DOB, height, weight, grade, my own personal ID number and school of origin. I look over to my profile sheet, which had my identification number as well as a lot of other labels. I remember the teachers telling us that they would have a look at our grades before we entered. All of these labels—A3 STUDENT, C16 WORKER, D2 TEACHER, B-CLASS—were these all assignments as to what I would of use here? I thought we were the ones being taught, not the other way around. Whatever these meant, they had me worried. I braced myself for whatever was worse than now.

Following the general flow of the traffic, I find my way to the A Cabins. The guard in front of A1 looks at our ID's and profile sheets before letting us in. The cabin's exterior looked well kept, with the walls scrubbed meticulously and the pathways swept with even gravel pebbles. Natural vegetation also made it seem like a camp, while not being in the way of everything else.

This was going to be my home for seven lonely, long days.

Sleeping with nine other students, only one I am familiar with, was going to be...new. My other classmate, Khang, was already on the bottom bunk of my assigned location. I set everything down silently, much like everyone else did. Suddenly, a staff member wearing a beret and some small glasses barges into the room and eyes each and every one of us as we set up our little beds. After making sure that everyone was generally finished with their preparations, he clears his throat to call attention.

"Alright, alright, everyone at attention!" Most of us were still convinced that this was a well placed practical joke, but the more he raised his voice, the more we doubted our theory. "Name's Cybertree. I'll be your Cabin Captain. Do as I say and we'll be fine." Straightforward and right to the point; I like it. "I don't care about the names of the disappointments I was assigned, so don't bother introducing yourself.

"Some rules for Cabin A1, or Alder, Cpt. Cybertree's rules. Rule number one, don't do anything that'll be a problem with anyone else. Rule number two, do as I say. No exceptions. Finally, rule number three, don't talk back to me. You may not know what the punishment is, but if you break any of our rules, you won't be seeing the light of day before you know it." The way he threatened us there at the end indicates that he's probably run through that sentence at least thirty times, but it was still unsettling. "Wait here until we're called back to the mess hall." He sits down in his bunk bed, conversing with the guard posted in our cabin. All of us were dead silent. Needless to say, nobody expected this. I was waiting for someone to come out and say that this was all an anti-communist PSA, but it never came.

Whatever was going to come out of this, I hope that I make it out alive. My mind slowly begins to lose grip of its own trust. Is this real? Is this all a scam? I can't trust anyone except the other students, who I know are just as confused as I am. I'm not sure what else they were planning to prepare us, whatever this was for. Having to carry ID wherever we went was already confusing enough.

By the time Cpt. Cybertree had called us to the mess hall, we were considerably hungry by then. We shuffle silently to central building. Along the way, my cabin debated whether or not we should have brought our ID card and profile sheet. Khang, some others and I had brought both, but two thought we only needed an ID, and another one didn't bring anything at all. Still in a blob, we spread out evenly into a single file line. I stuff my ID in my jacket pocket as they come around with some hand sanitizer for each of us.

The line moves forward slowly, but it was significant progress. The guy without his papers up front was escorted out of the line by two armed guards, who had him carried back to Cabin A1. When I made it to the front, a guard asks me for my ID, which I show. "Profile sheet is not required," the guard says without looking at me. "Table D2." I see the signs that were posted above each table, with D2 near the back. Making my way over, I begin to ponder whether or not I would like it here. Maybe it was a lesson encased in a simulation. But what gets me is why they're doing it. This was advertised as OUTDOOR school. How was this, if it even was, educational? I sit in silence with the others awkwardly and cautiously conversing amongst themselves as well.

What is this place?

(1,551/27,603 Words) Chapter 2 - Alison

What is this place?

My friends were feeling the aura as well, the aura that we were always monitored, surveyed and observed. I feel like a guinea pig, all cooped inside this house of cameras. One look at the ceiling revealed rows upon rows of CCTVs. I wanted to comment on it, I wanted to tell my friends that something's going on, I want to tell them that this place isn't what it said it was, but I didn't. They were watching. Our cabin captain was also watching us, specifically me. They knew I was up to something.

As food was distributed, the conversation remained low and quiet. We were all uncomfortable. We didn't know what the punishment would be if we were. It was stir fry, and, I had to admit, as eerie as this place was, the food was actually pretty good. I just hope that this isn't what they're using to hypnotize or poison us. The more I thought about it, the slower I chewed, and the faster I lost my appetite. The others noticed, and a guard walked over to me. The guard was in all black, and he had all kinds of bulletproof and bullet resistant gear, including a helmet that prevented me from seeing any part of his face. The only thing I was really afraid of was the sharp blow dart gun that he had.

Panicking, I quickly start to pick at the vegetables. Please, please, not me. Not now.

The entire hall was silent and looking at the direction of the guard, in other words, me, as he finally gets to my spot on the bench.

"Is there a problem?" he says to me. I shake my head helplessly. What am I supposed to do?

"No...no-" The guard continues to stare me up and down. I think he's trying to read my body language, but I was frozen solid. Taking out a portable radio, he says,

"10-9 at B2." Before long, the other side of the signal responded.

"Copy. Send her down." Without warning, the guard grabs me by the shoulders. I let out a little yelp, prompting a vigorous shake from the guard, telling me to be quiet. I look back at my friends, who stare back at me with the same helpless eyes I exhibited. Whatever was going through my minds, I could read in their eyes.

As the guard guided my outside, the sun had already gone well down the horizon, and all that was left was the fading twilight and the early moon. It would've been a nice spot to stargaze if it weren't for all the bugs. As I look around, I notice the treehouses high up in the canopy, and some guard towers constructed at the corners of the camp. I guess the sunlight just camouflages them as normal occurences of nature. But with their lights on at night, it was obvious that these were surveillance towers. Were they that afraid that people would try to flee?

Under these circumstances, I can't really blame them for trying.

I was led deeper into the forest, and the deeper we went, the thicker the foliage. Patrol teams were searching the perimeter with four green eyes per patrolman — night-vision goggles. Was this really all necessary?

I stopped questioning the necessity of expensive technology when I was finally led to the entrance of a cement building. It was plain and simple; a box with only a door at the front. It was next to a ten foot ledge. To the left of the building was the Sandy River, twinkling in the moonlight. I thought of fleeing and swimming back to civilization, but the near-freezing water would be suicide.

"10-9," the guard carrying says to the door. Someone inside unlocked two padlocks, allowing the door to swing open. Inside was a single desk with chairs on opposite sides. The desk was littered with all kinds of forms and paperwork, and a single lamp provided light for the entire building. Something about the fact that it was so empty gave me the feeling that there was more to this place that I simply can't see.

After waiting for about five minutes, a woman enters the room and sits herself acros from me; the chair against the wall. "So, you are new here?" she ask me straight away.

"Yes," I reply.

"Give me your ID and Profile Sheet," she says, outstretching her hand without making eye contact. I hand over both, knowing that I might have needed this eventually. I just never imagined that it would something serious like this. "It says here you are Cabin C4 in the Coniferous Sector." I nod to confirm. She reads through my form some more and leans towards me, hands clasped together. "I have been informed that you are not eating as fast as the others." So what? Why did it matter how fast I ate?

"Uh-"

"Explain yourself," she demands, her voice firm and stern.

"I-...I'm new here...that's all..."

"And?" 

"I was look...looking..."

"At what?"

"The...the mess hall..." I look down and see that my legs and arms were shaking as I grip the chair below me. The woman gives me a suspicious look as she writes somethng in my profile sheet. After doing some more paperwork in another form, she hands back my Profile Sheet and ID.

"Do not falter again. I will let you off with a warning for now." I look down at my Profile Sheet and see that she wrote something in the first CITATION BOX. There were two left below it. It said, "Eating too slow. Should be easily cured. Get her accustomed to the place. Hopefully that is enough." I look back up and, before I even heard her close the door, she was gone. I was lifted by the same guard in the mess hall.

"You heard her. Now get back to the mess hall. And don't even think about running away. We will find you." That last sentence resonated within me as I navigate through the dark. It had grown darker than before, and a slight hue of blue and gray barely illuminated the forest around me. I would rather stay here by myself in the cold than with everyone else in there, safe and warm. This was not what I want to call home.

I make it back to the mess hall. It was the same how I left it: silent and uncomfortable. Nobody bothered to look up when I walked in, as if they were told something about staring at others. I wouldn't be surprised, considering how I was just scolded for eating too slowly. I sit down next to the same two people before I left, and they hadn't moved an inch. They remained there, trying to eat slowly as well. That way they didn't have to sit there awkwardly with nothing to do.

A girl from another school I had met today looked at me as if to say, "What happened?" I shake my head and wave my hand, saving the story for later.

After dinner, the light of the camp were lit. It was nearly pitch black due to the clouds covering the moonlight. We shuffled awkwardly in the darkness, boys going one way, girls the other. I stood by my cabinmates, making sure I never get lost in this crowd. Who knows what they would do if I walked too slowly as well?

Now the guards and the staff members were trying to look lively and happy; not like the staff members that showed little emotion when we first arrived. It went from hopeless dystopia to happy utopia immediately. "Alright! Let's get you settled in so we can get started tomorrow!" someone at the front of the line called. When no response was given, they said, "Come on! Who's ready for tomorrow?"

After some seconds of pause, a student from the crowd whooped out loud, which started a forced domino effect with all of us cheering for whatever was to come tomorrow. Soon enough, everyone was having a ball, laughing and smiling at friends. Had they forgotten entirely of what happened at the mess hall? Then I look one of the lampposts. On it was a CCTV camera with a red dot below it.

That's why.

I suddenly turn to one of my cabinmates and begin laughing nervously, hoping that it wasn't too late.

(2,172/27,603 words) Chapter 3 - Khang
The next morning started with a slam of the door. A guard marches into the room with a medallion labeled "Gravity". Yelling loudly to wake us up, he leaves as quickly as he came, and by then we were wide awake. Cybertree was also up and moving about, much to my surprise. Did he get any sleep last night?

"Attention! Attention!" he bellows. If someone slept through Gravity's entrance, they certainly won't sleep through this. "Alright, everyone up? Good. Now here's the daily routine." He rushes through the last few sentences, with some of us still groggy from standing up so suddenly. "When Gravity, the A Cabin Supervisor gets in here, everyone needs to stand up immediately. Those in the bunk bed muts get down as fast as possible. Pack everything up in your bed as fast as possible, and then line up behind the door. We'll go outside to the main field in front of the mess hall. That'll be our daily routine before we break off into our different jobs and assignments. I'll explain those later."

We all get our beds ready and set for the next time we sleep in them, and we straighten into a single-file line, putting me second to last. I look to the other lines that were trudging to the dewey, damp grass and notice that they too were still drowsy. This militaristic style is going to take a toll on all of us. Cybertree told us to face towards the flag pole left of the mess hall. Expecting the USSR flag to arise, I got something entirely different that took me off guard.

The flag raised wasn't a capitalist or communist flag. It was a dull, sky blue flag with a circular emblem in the middle. In front was a bird carrying an acorn shield. The background consisted of a lighter blue for a sky, and three green triangles behind the bird to indicate a forest. They even have their own flag? Part of me wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they're taking this little prank, but, not knowing the punishment, I clear my throat and face the flag.

"LONG LIVE THE RIVER VALLEY!!" the same announcer from the night before bellows. This time, his tone was serious. Reminds me a lot of how the Germans used to hail themselves so often. "SALUTE!" Our cabin captains take their right fist and cross it over so it hits right above the heart. With all of us doing in unison, it sounded like thundering boots marching in a line. "SALUTE!" We thump our chests again, more synchronized than before. "SALUTE!" The final salute, we all landed at pretty much the same time. We remained silent the whole way through, not sure if we should be taking it as serious as they are.

Someone in the line behind me started to snicker. Eventually, two people were exchanging giggles. Two guards forcefully rip them from the line and carry them singlehandedly over to the forest, where they disappeared into the bushes. We were told not to look, but it was too late. Where were they headed? Why were they sent into the forest? I let it go. They were being obnoxious anyways.

"Listen first," the announcer says from the front. Suddenly, ominous music plays over loudspeakers I couldn't see, making it sound scarily grand. Was this their excuse for an anthem? He sings, "River Valley!"

"Where the trees rise, the birds sing, the sun shines there is a land!
Where we live and we build and we fight with our own hands.

River Valley!

When they come and they try to take our glorious home!
We will not surrender, we will fight until the sun

Will rise, and everyone will find,
That we are all one, that we are not to cry.
We will not let them take, we will not let them pry,
Our land away from us, even if they tried.

Our flags in the sky, showing the world up high,
That we still stand, from the grass unto the sand,
Our hope will never run dry, that we will always get by,
With our own land, with our own eyes.

Together we stand, as one hand in hand, and they will all see, our land of glory, together we stand, as one hand in hand, and they will all see, our land of glory.

We work for the nation, we live by the nation, we rule by the nation, we fight by the nation, we build for the nation, we hail to the nation, we serve for the nation, we die by the nation.

Long live the River Valley!"

We were all dead silent.

This can't be real. They even had their own anthem, their own flag, their own documents, their own ID cards, their own guards, their own weapons—were we all unwillingly signed up to work for this nation? The "Nation of River Valley"? Will we really DIE for the nation? Too many questions, too little answers. I was afraid that time would tell me what the truth is in this world.

"Report to your designated mess hall tables for the morning meal," the announcer said. They were so strict that he didn't even bother saying "breakfast" like a normal person. Awkwardly, our lines shuffle into three lanes. The booths there were checking our IDs. Why did we need an ID? Were they really afraid of someone "illegally" entering the premises? I feel like this is a little excessive for such a simple problem. Just bring the person you don't recognize to the higher-ups, and then they can go from there.

We finish our breakfasts of waffles the same way we finished our dinners last night. It was silent and awkward. No one still felt like talking, so we kept our eyes on our plates and our heads down. The staff members didn't seem to notice, let alone care, that we were in absolute silence. More than half of us were exhibiting nervous body language, but that must be normal, right?

After exactly twenty minutes since our arrival, a loud school bell rings, and the staff members immediately stand up at their spots, signaling us to do the same. The same guy we met with at our school stood at the opposite side of the tables. "Long live the River Valley!" he says and does the fisted salute. We echo his words and his actions simultaneously. I didn't know we would catch onto something like this so quickly, which makes it even more dangerous than it already is. "As you all are well aware of, this is your first day in the River Valley. You might have been told that this is outdoor school."

Some students in the crowd nodded slowly to themselves as not to draw too much attention. Snake laughs. "Well, let me tell you, this is a school in the outdoors. What, when, where, how, who and why we teach you, I have yet to reveal. But first, let me tell you all that your stay here is nothing but the best. We will rise above the other camps, because we are nothing BUT, the best. Remember that. When you fail to sufficiently reach your job quota, or you feel that you can't go on, remember that we ARE the best, and, as long as you work hard, we will all get to experience the glory of our beautiful land.

"Now, you will return to your cabins along with your cabin captains, as they explain what you will be doing for today. Keep in mind that your job is subject to frequent replacement, substitution, and last minute changes, so don't get too comfortable." Snake laughs again, this time, I have no idea why. "Dismissed." Our Cabin Captain faces us and motions for us to follow.

Luis, the only other classmate in my cabin, says to himself, "This'll be fun..."

We get back into our cabins by the time the fog was clearing, and the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds. The moment Cybertree's guard let us in, he told us to get our profile sheets out. He takes out a poster under his bed and tapes it to the cement wall for all of us to see. It was a chart with all kinds of numbers and letters, similar to those in my profile sheet. Each specific number and letter combination had a job, task, and/or location attributed to it. "St. Therese students." Luis and I look up. "Check the WORK section." Everything else he said was blocked out as I look at the poster carefully. My profile sheet that I was an B-7 worker. B-7 under WORK said "STRATEGIST. ARMS OFFICE." What? How did the military get involved in all of this? "You are all free to leave once you know where you must report to. There is a map here to plan your route. Ordinarily, you would have ten minutes to get to your jobs, but, because this is your first day, we doubled it. Do not be late. The punishments here are not...conventional, to put it that way."

I check again, blinking. I was assigned as a military strategist? Why is this needed?

While I walked on the dirt path to the Arms Office, I notice two guards discussing something. "Stupid kids," I couldn't help but overhear. "Thinking they own the place because they think it's a school."

"What'd they do this time?" the other guard sighs, as if he's gone through this dilemma before. "I feel ya."

"One of 'em tried to talk back. Said that I couldn't tell them what to do. Said I was 'infringing their rights'."

"And?"

"Put him out. Sent him to the Detention Facility." I freeze in my tracks and cautiously look around to make sure that the coast was clear. There was a prison here as well! "I'm sure they'll take care of him," he says sarcastically. The other guard shuffles and kicks a rock.

"Hey, I worked there for a week. Worst job here. Always a headache to file the incidents. I gotta go through their profile, their history, our records, their associates...I don't blame 'em."

"Yeah, but that way they never get shit done. Always pushing it off. Shoving it away as a false positive. Heater's almost empty most of the time." I hear their footsteps nearing and quickly try to think off of a plan. The dirt road was broad, and there really wasn't anywhere that I could hide. Maybe in the forest, but by waiting, I might be late. "Might as well just run it down. It's pointless."

The second guard spots me almost immediately. He slings his blow dart gun over his shoulder so that it was in front of him. The guard that was talking did the same, giving me a rather scornful look. "Hey, you should be somewhere, kid." I wasn't sure what to say, but he already solved that for me. "Where is it?"

I stutter, trying to find the right words. "A-Arms Office. I got-"

"Lost, yeah, yeah, that's what they all say. You're on the right path, buddy. Keep going straight. You'll be late," the first guard instructs me as he looks at his watch. "It'll probably open in about five minutes, so you better hurry." I nod as a thanks and sprint off down the road, pretending to have learned this new road. By the way the guard was talking, I could tell he was holding back. I guess detaining people was his bonus, the problem being that he couldn't detain me.

By the time I saw the building down the dirt path, the outside had a small group of kids from separate schools. No one there was from my class. The three only students that were talking were discussing how creepy and weird this place was, how they were assigned jobs and how they had to salute the River Valley flag. I stayed silent and out of the conversation as I observe the empty-looking building. It was an old cement shack, as if it had withstood intense rain and vegetation for years. Moss began to grow where the ground and the wall met, and the wooden patio that separated us from the entrance also looked a little rotten. It did rain when we arrive, so that's probably why it looks a little wet.

The only two windows around the whole building was barred off with iron, and the shades were drawn back so we couldn't see it. Then, I look above the door. A lone CCTV camera had its sights right on us. The red light under the lens was blinking.

It was on.

(2,276/27,603 words) Chapter 4 - Tyler

My profile sheet said that I was a B-19 worker. In fact, most of my cabinmates were B class workers. I wondered if that was a good thing.

That was the only thing in my mind as I walked down a worn down dirt path along with a few other students that had the same job that I did. All we know is that building listed was simply labeled "Administration Office". When we arrived, we were the only ones there. Were the only B-19s in the whole school?

We were let inside the big office building by a helpful woman that was in casual wear. She didn't look too business-like, giving me some comfort that sanity was still at reach. She leads us all to a room upstairs, where kids the same age as me were typing away on computers, stamping documents and writing notes. They all looked a little bit tired, but every time one of the blow dart guards would walk near them or faced their direction, they would pretend to be alert and concentrated on getting the job done. I was surprised how big this place really was on the inside.

"This will be your officespace," the woman says, a little laid-back. "B-19 workers are administrators of work. Supervisors. You're bosses over a lot of people." That took me by surprise. "Some days you'll be in your desk going over some papers, other days, you'll be on the field, observing them work. Simple job. Any anomalies come up, you send it to the higher-ups down the road a bit through the OUT section of your organizers."

She takes out a bag and rummages in it roughly for a while before she takes out a messy tangle of wires. Well, messy tangle of lanyards. She handed out the lanyards which had photos of us, our names, our ID number and our school on it. The color of the lanyard was the same dull blue as the flag, with the emblem sewed all around it. "Those will be your IDs. Wear them everywhere you go for work. Do not lose them. You won't get another. Oh, and by the way, you'll get your uniforms tomorrow. On the back of those cards should also be your assigned desk number. Instructions are placed there. Good luck."

Good luck?

I find my desk, which was next to a window, thankfully. The ceiling was higher up than the ceiling downstairs, and the windows followed them. They were rather tall glass panes; I bet I could stand on myself there and only be able to reach the top of the sill on the tip of my toes.

I look down at the papers that were on my desk. It was relatively cleaner than everyone else around me, unsurprisingly. Other than the papers, the only thing on my desk were a little lamp and a mini-calendar. The papers that were on my desk were simple forms, all blank boxes regarding my general experience here so far. The only other document that wasn't a form was a list. More specifically, they were a list of rules and responsibilities I had as a work administrator.

DEPARTMENT of Workforces
Welcome, Inspector/Officer/[Administrator], to your new job in the Administration Office. You are a vital part of this association, and we gladly accept you into our positions. Please read carefully your tasks, rules and duties as Inspector/Officer/[Administrator].

Long live the River Valley.

RESPONSIBILITIES
1. Inspect information gathered from the field. Judge whether or not the jobs and its workers are working to their fullest capacity, and report any anomalies regarding problematic employees, inefficient systems and restrictive regulations that decrease the functionality and potential of said job.

2. Find patterns involving anomalies, if any, and report suspicious activity that is legal per se, but could possibly point to conspiracy and/or illegal activity. EXAMPLE: Small, unexplained losses of food inventory could point to an employee pilfering supplies.

3. Sometimes, reported activity is under your responsibility. In this case, find ways to solve the issue as quickly as possible, using as little resources as possible. As Administrator, you will most likely be appointed to incidents and problems that you must resolve before widespread damage is caused.

JOB
There are three kinds of documents that you will receive as Inspector/Officer/[Administrator]. Read through them carefully and do as instructed.

FORMS - Forms are blank boxes regarding profiles, incident reports and situations that need to be filled out by the administrator and sent to the Department of Workforces for further processing.

REPORTS - Reports are recorded situations that have already happened or are currently happening that need to be reviewed by the administrator. An action box is listed below. If you believe that there is no threat or problem, state that in the box. If you believe there is a threat or problem, state in the box any resolutions you suggest. Send filed reports to the Department of Workforces for further processing.

REQUESTS - Unlike reports, requests suggest implementations that may not be in response to a threat or problem, but can increase the workflow of their specified field and department. Approve or deny their request and state why you chose that answer. Send filed requests back to the department. If your audit inspector finds you wrongfully answering requests, punishments will be issued.

PENALTIES
Failure to comply with your responsibilities and peforming acts of delinquency outside your job will be held against you and is punishable by mandatory labor, loss of your current position, imprisonment and/or exile.

- Another inspector will audit your actions and work monthly. Any suspicious activity reported to higher authorities can be held against you.

- Failure to solve appointed problems and report anomalies will be detected by your inspector's audit. This is a high-class crime, and can be punishable to exile and execution.

- Small mistakes and other overlookings will be detected by your inspector's audit. This is a low-class crime, and can be punishable to paycheck reduction and temporary probation.

Long live the River Valley.
--Snake

"This looks fairly simple," I say to myself, looking over the rules one more time. I look at my paper organizer and see that there was a stack in them already. I guess I lied about the forms being the only other papers.

The first paper in the IN box was a form, except it was filled out by someone downstairs. It was titled INCIDENT REPORT: DETENTION FACILITY. They had a detention facility? Was it like a prison?

One detainee in particular was causing problems in the jail cells, shouting and generally being disruptive. I was guessing that this was a problem sent to me for resolution. I had pretty much the entire arsenal of River Valley at my disposal. I thought about the power I had, and how it was so easy to abuse it.

I filled in the form, asking whoever was in charge of the Detention Facility to isolate that detainee in a cell for solitary confinement, and put it into the OUT box. This job was easier than I expected. I reach into the IN box again and take out the next form. It was titled STATUS REPORT: DEPARTMENT OF Workforces

From what I could pick out of it, it was about how inefficient the system paperwork processing was and admission of guard posting as well as how staff was going to be shared if their schedules mixed with other schedules, causing conflicts between which department should get the employee.

Oh boy.

About an hour of many different problems went by, and I was barely halfway through the stack of IN papers when an alarm clock buzzed quietly throughout the room. We all look up and see the woman from earlier open the stairway door. "Alright! Lunch!" she calls, closing the door behind her. We all shuffle down the line and to the door. Everyone felt so foreign and distant. We could very well socialize, but not under the heavy surveillance of the staff members.

We make our way to the mess hall; a good three minute walk through the woods. The mess hall was packed, with everyone buzzing about their new jobs inside. "At least it wasn't like yesterday," I mumble to myself taking out my ID card for the booth to check it. After they hand it back to me, I walk to my assigned table. My cabinmates were sitting here, all talking about their first days.

One of the cabinmates from another school mentioned how his job was physically demanding; he was a construction worker, and his first job was to help construct more offices and fortify the walls around the whole school.

Another mentioned how cool his job was; he was training to be a guard just like the ones posted all throughout the camp, and his first day was learning about the different kinds of blow dart guns and how to use them.

"What was your first day, Tyler?" One of them asked me.

"Oh. Nothing. It was pretty boring," I reply timidly, wishing that the food came faster.

"What did you do?"

"I was an officeworker. Doing papers." The others nod, agreeing to how boring my job was. "Nothing interesting." The bowls were served later, where we had grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. I usually don't this kind of stuff, but I had to admit, it was pretty good.

After lunch, we went out to the central field outside the mess hall to play a tagging game. It was freeze-tag, with ever-stupid rule of "tagger's always right". I decided to sit on the sidelines, enjoying the shade and watching them argue about who tagged who. 

This might not be the best place to be right now, but it was still pretty nice. The ground was soft with grass and even without little pebbles. The sun lit the whole forest with a basking glow, and a light breeze gently moved the trees higher up on the hill. It would be a nice day for a picnic too, and I questioned why we didn't eat lunch outside.

However, somewhere in the distance, something caught my eye. A group of three were huddled together in the middle of a field, discussing a plan as one of them wrote an imaginary pencil on their hand for a map. A bit of harmless strategy, I think. They break off, and I watch one of them as they make their way to the cement, near the offsides. You weren't supposed to play near the cement, only sit there if you didn't want to play at all. This kid, however, was clearing straight for the stone path

He puts one foot in front of his other, and he trips himself down on the cement, yelling in pain. The staff members noticed quickly, and the running around stopped. The only kids that didn't stop were the ones that the fallen one had talked to earlier. They were slowly inching away from the center of the field down to the outside, closer and closer to foliage.

As people and staff crowded around this particular individual, who had a real bleeding knee at this point, more students were losing their focus on the two kids that weren't in the crowd. I stay seated in the shade, genuinely curious as to what these two were planning. Suddenly, they dive into bushes. After being submerged in the leaves for a while, they reappear on the other side of the thick brush, running away from the field and frantically glancing behind them to make sure that nobody had seen them.

Out of nowhere, hidden alarms blare loudly throughout the property. The sound was akin to the air raid and nuclear missile alarms that were set up in the mid-twentieth century. Everyone looked away from the bleeding patient to look around. A booming voice echoes, "Staff and citizens of River Valley, the Department of Security has issued a fleeing alert. Two male children, both with brown hair, have been caught fleeing from the premises, away from their designated location as of this time. I repeat, two male children, both with brown hair, have been caught fleeing from the premises, away from their designated location as of this time."

The alarms continued to play as the staff members spring into action. Only two remained, and that was only to address the wound of the diversion. The impromptu search party quickly discuss their plan of action and where they would go. After some hissing and whispering, they finally decide on what they need to do and break off into pairs, scattering in all directions. The loudspeaker spoke once more, "All citizens currently in their designated locations, please migrate to the mess hall at this time. All citizens currently in their designated locations, please migrate to the mess hall at this time." The confused but obedient students, me being included, slowly start to make our way to the cafeteria.

I could have been able to help. I would've if I knew what was happening. I should've. Would've, could've, should've. There was no time for that now. This was definitely going to be in one of our desks later. Whatever happens to those two, is going to reveal the true nature of this so-called outdoor school. This'll be a good lesson, a lesson we will all need to know.

Part of me doesn't want to.

(2,643/27,603 words) Chapter 5 - Teiya
The incident after lunch didn't really help my fear of this place. I'm still scared to see what they're going to do, especially me. Alison told me all about her being detained and brought to the mysterious place in the forest. Sometimes we would joke about things like that, but now, I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't playing around. This place isn't playing around either. This is all in honest seriousness. I bet some of the other kids know more than I do about why this is happening. All I'm focused on doing is getting home. Getting out of here. There has to be a way to flee.

But if I'm caught...

The loudspeakers in the mess hall snap me back to reality. "Citizens of River Valley. The all-clear signal has been initiated. Further investigation is scheduled soon. All C-5 jobs to C-10 jobs must report to the Precinct as soon as possible. Other citizens, continue on with the remainder of your schedule. All C-5 jobs to C-10 jobs must report to the Precinct as soon as possible. Other citizens, continue on with the remainder of your schedule." I take a breath in, and a slow breath out. I was going to make it. I was going to handle this for seven days. Just that. A week. It can't all be that bad.

I get up from the empty table and follow the crowd out the mess hall, walking to the building I had been in all morning. It was the uniform inventory. Well, I got a job about clothes. That was close.

My job wasn't just to take inventory, but to manage the supplies that went into making them, managing the people that made them and making sure that the expenses were taken care of. For all those that do know me, I am horrible at math. Someone at the Department of Workforces appointed me an assistant to help me with the finances, something no one else got. Thanks DoL.

I open the door to my tiny little office, which was really just a sizeable closet with too many filing cabinets. I sit back down on my desk, already literred with papers on the first day. They were all lists of things that needed to be done and empty forms that needed to filled. Luckily for me, my assistant was already on the lists. "Boss," she says, twirling in her swivel chair. 
"We're gonna have to borrow $12,000 more to get the XL constructions." I roll my eyes. This is the third time I had to request for more money. I am really not doing a good job.

"Got it," I reply, reluctantly taking out another request form. This better not turn up on my status report. As I was writing down the amount I needed, there was a hard knocking on the door. "Yes?"

A guard barges into the room, followed by some other kid from another school I don't recognize. He flashes me some kind of badge that said that he was from the Department of Security. He had short blonde hair and casual clothing, which pretty much voided his chance of looking cool. "John Paul K. Lozenfeld. Department of Security." He takes off his sunglasses as he looks at me, trying to be all cool like those CSI shows. "That incident today..."

"You mean-"

"Yup," he cuts me off. "The fleeing twins. Both of them worked here in the Department of Resources, and I wanted to ask some questions." I offer him a chair that he brushes aside as I sit down. "You're the boss around here, correct, Ms. Alagar?" My spine shivers from him just saying my name.

"Y-Yes."

"And are you acquainted with Mr. Johnsin and Mr. Clydia?" I nod. "What were their positions?"

"Mr. Johnsin was a stock manager and Mr. Clydia was part of the disposal crew."

"So, you're good friends?" I shake my head quickly. Could this guy just get to the point?

"No, no-"

"Alright. I'll put that in." I wanted to say something, but I simply sigh and slump lower down. That better not get me into trouble. "That's all, Ms. Alagar. Come with me." He motions for me to get up as I follow him and the guard out of the office. My employees look at me as I was escorted by the DoS past the tall shelves of boxes and plastic tubs of clothes and cloths. I hope this isn't the last time I see them. When we got outside, he looks at the guard and gives him a nod of thanks. "I'll take it from here," he says.

'Oh please...no...no...' I think to myself. My face didn't show it. It might get me into deeper trouble that what I'm already in. We walked alone in the forest down a dirt path as the sun shone at an angle, giving the forest a yellow, beautiful glow of the afternoon. I wish I could've walked down here by myself, not being brought to my death.

John Paul kept looking around and over his shoulder, as if he were checking for people that were following him. We got to a bend around the dirt path, and he suddenly grips my arm as he stops. "Okay. Listen to me carefully," he whispers in a normal voice. "This is a spot where the cameras can't see or hear us. But don't count on it. They're cracking down on people like me all the time." Who's they?

"What's important is that we'll be safe here for a while, until the patrol comes around. Not to mention the search parties. Anyways, I need to tell you that that there, back in the warehouse, was a persona. I will try my best to get you out of this stupid mess. Yes, that was my real name and occupation, and we have to do some mandatory investigations to all of those related to the fleeing of those two. I know for a fact that you didn't plan this with them, but please play along."

I blink. That was a lot to take in. "H-How-"

"Just pretend that you're totally confused and you have no idea how and why you got there to the Precinct. Answer honestly. If you speak the truth, you don't have to remember anything, and I know for sure, that you didn't do anything, am I wrong?" I shake my head without hesitation. I can't believe this guy was helping me! Someone that wasn't a puppet!

"Okay come on. They'll be expecting us soon." He lets go of my arm as he begins to walk again the same way as he did before. He had this outgoing kind of stride, trying to show off how "cool" he was as he kept his sunglasses on and his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. The more we walked to the Precinct, the more I began to think. Was this a well placed double spy? Maybe it was a trap, to try people as conspirators and convict them as such. I couldn't be too sure, but I was anyway. I had no one else to trust other than my friends, and God knows where they are right now.

We arrive at the Precinct, a significantly larger building than the others I've soon. It was a bit smaller than the mess hall, and it was rectangular and more box like like the other cement buildings I've seen around here. This was the only cement building that I've encountered that had multiple floors. This building had three. Two guards at the entrance opened the door for us after John Paul flashed them his badge. We walk into the air-conditioned waiting room, where a receptionist looked at John Paul. "Boss of the two," he says to her. The receptionist was about as young as us as well, and she was a lot more dressed up than the others.

We walk up the stairs and were on the second floor. Cubicles were lined up in rows as the sound of clicking keyboards filled the air. This must be where they were doing the investigation. It was only the first investigation, and it looked like everybody had something to do. After receiving some looks from the people that worked in the cubicles, I was led to what I guess is an interrogation room. There was a lone table, and two plastic chairs on opposite sides. A lamp hung from the ceiling. There was also a one-way mirror that looked inside, but didn't look outside.

"So," John Paul drags the syllable as he shuffles, or at least pretends to shuffle, through some papers he had on the interrogation table. After he finished, he looked at me in the eye and darted his eyes upward. It took me a while, but I figured it out. I look up above him and see that there was a camera in the corner of the room. The red light under it was blinking, signaling its state of activity.

"Can you state your name and occupation for the record, please?" John Paul asks, still in that laid-back, outgoing, show-off mode, but his tone didn't match. He sounded serious, but at the same time pleading, pleading for them to let me go and pleading for me to play along. I nod.

"I'm Teiya Levani Alagar. I'm a Secondary Officer in the Department of Resources."

"And what exactly, Ms. Teiya Levani Alagar, does this job ask of you?"

"I help in managing the expenses and making sure that everything related to clothes gets taken care off." John Paul nods and hums in approval. He puts his pen in the corner of his lips, pretending to think. I know he's pretending, because he had the clipboard on the wrong side.

"And, you are well acquainted with your employees?" I nod. "Are you familiar with Mr. Clydia and Mr. Johnsin?" I nod again.

"They were my two best employees, sir." He nods back as a reply.

"Have you heard anything out of the ordinary between these two? Anything...conspicuous or suspicious?" I hope he was on my side when I said this.

"No, nothing like that."

"No talks about conspiracy or rebellion?" I shake my head while trying to relax as much as possible. Needless to say it didn't do anything. My shaking made it look like I was clearly lying. "Hmm." He searches through the actual papers. That might be a problem. "What about your other employees? Anything of that matter?" I shake my head again.

"Most of our work is quiet and number crunching," I say. Well, that was partly true. We talked about all kinds of things the whole time, but I'm that it doesn't come up real soon. John Paul nods and goes over some simple questions such as how long I've been working at my station, and how often I take breaks away from work.

"Well, that's all the information we need," he finally says. It had only been five minutes since we entered the Precinct. "You're free to return to your workspace, Ms. Alagar." He motions towards the exit. I get up slowly, waiting for him to object. He didn't, much to my surprise, and before I knew it, I was standing outside the headquarters of the Resource Department. I walk back to my office in silence, wondering if this was to happen any more.

I go to unlock my office door, only to find it ajar. My assistant always keeps the door closes when she leaves, and if not, she keepts it unlocked. I open the door a little wider to reveal three guys in suits and two blow dart guns searching through my papers and cabinets. I stood there shocked until one of them, looking a little older than me, glances my direction and sees my reaction. "Ah. Ms. Alagar, I presume?"

Too stunned to say anything, I simply nod my head. What are these guys doing? "I know you're probably wondering, 'What are these guys doing?' Let me tell you that you are under arrest for conspiracy against the River Valley and for the potential association in the aiding of the escape of Mr. Wilson Clydia and Mr. Finn Johnsin." He flashes me the same badge that John Paul had. "Hands behind your back. What you say can and will be held against you." I turn around to reveal my wrists to him as one of the guards cuff me up. Were they serious? I thought I was off the hook by the way John Paul was talking, how sure he sounded in his plan. Apparently, that wasn't enough.

Both guards and the guy that met me escorted me out of my office. This was the second time in the past hour that I've been forced to move. How long could I keep this up before the boss figures out? Will I get fired? Where will I work then? 'I'm getting a little ahead of myself' I think. They drag me all the way back to the Precinct.

...and turn left.

A path I hadn't noticed before was narrow, but worn. I was being walked around the Precinct, but where? We walked in silence for the next sixty seconds, with the exception of my handcuffs clinking and the birds tweeting as the sun began to set. It was getting dark, and I wouldn't be able to meet my job quota if I wasn't let out of here quick. I was led to another building. Smaller than the Precinct, but bigger than most of our cabins, this building was literally a square box. No matter now. I was brought inside where another receptionist greeted the four of us into the building. She walks up and unlocks something on the wall.

"Door's clear," she says. One of the guards nod and walks over to a creak in the floor. He picks up the chain, revealing a hidden trapdoor. With the darkness of the room and the darkness of the wooden floor, I would've never noticed it. I was brought down a steep staircase into what reminded me of a wine cellar. Except what was being stored here wasn't wine.

It was people.

They looked like prisoners, with orange clothing and disgruntled looks on their faces. Was I going to be one of them? As we walked to what I assume is going to be my cell, prisoners gave me hard looks, while others' eyes were pleading, as if to ask me to let them go. The three of them stop as the second guard unlocked the prison cell. I was shoved inside an empty cell, with nothing in it but a cot, a sink and a toilet to keep me company. "You are still under investigation. A verdict has not yet been decided. Until then, you will be held here. And don't think of stirring any more trouble." All of them walk away, leaving me here for dead.

I've never been to a prison that was so big, let alone be held in one. Whatever I was being investigated of, I'm not sure, but I know myself and I know what I did. I was NOT "conspiring" or whatever these guys were saying.

I sat alone, thinking if I'd ever see the remaining sunlight of today.

(/27,603 Words) Chapter 6 - Dominic
"And I said, you better not get them the octopus!" We all laughed for a good half a minute. I'm glad I got the job as a mailman. They saw me as fast, great. The best part is, at the first day, we don't get to do anything. Even the current employees and the staff members agreed. This was not a particularly demanding job in any aspect. Our little shack was simply made, with four stakes in the ground and a tent over our heads to shield us from the sweltering sun. Inside were a few loudspeakers, a HAM radio, a broken television, some filing cabinets that were mostly empty and multiple fans that were on full blast. We were all staying outside the main gate, the one that separated us from the rest of the world. If there was anything that needed to be delivered, Department of Correspondence would bring it to us. So far, no one showed up except us.

Suddenly, one of the other kids from another school stopped laughing and looked through us. I turn around and see two kids carrying individual filing cabinets. They looked heavy, judging by their pained grimace and their shiny faces. How long had they carried these? Each of the black cabinets they held were made of metal and had two shelves. We immediately rush over to take it off their shoulders.

"Where are these headed?" the staff members asks them sternly. After catching their breath for a minute, they manage to huff out,

"Trekistan. Camp Arr-"

"Yes, yes. We know about Trekistan." The staff member looked over the form that the deliverers also carried. "Yep. It's Trekistan alright." I looked at the big map that was posted on one of the tents' stilts. According to the graph, Trekistan was down the river for a good few miles. They hadn't really gotten to the actual job requirements and the actual work; they kept pushing it aside, saying, "We'll explain it as needed." The leader of our group, Skytree, looks at us with utmost seriousness.

"Alright, guys listen up," his baritone voice bellows. "This is a simple drill. Routine record delivery. We give our recipient our new identities and our status reports for the rest of the world to see. Like I said, simple drill." He picks up a blow dart gun, the largest of the row of blow dart guns. The blow dart guns were very simply designed. It had the main barrel, a blowhole where you put the dart in, and three dart holders all throughout the barrel. It also had a foregrip at the end for you to hold, and some of them had scopes to aim through. They were pretty much real guns without triggers. Skytree had told us that there were more powerful weapons in the River Valley arsenal, such as modified airsoft guns, modified tranquilizer sniper rifles and grenades of all sorts.

"You already know how to fire the weapon, now to put in the ammunition." He opens a military-grade ammunition crate, revealing medium sized darts with fat mid-sections, red feathered tails and a plastic cap on its tip. "I didn't show you guys this unless you accidentally stumbled upon it and killed yourselves. Yes. This is deadly."

He pops open the orange cap of the dart. It was razor sharp, more like a needle than a dart. "This is an AAS, Airborne Assault Syringe. If it gets deep enough into the skin it'll inject a lethal dose of some herbal poison that we farm here locally. That's why there's a cap on it, in case any of you disappointments cut themselves." Next, he opens another ammunition crate. It was pretty much the same, except the tips of the feathers were yellow. "This is an AIS, Airborne Immobilization Syringe. If you get hit by these, you can take them out, but if they aren't, you'll pass out like that." He snaps his fingers between "out" and "like". "It isn't lethal, but you can overdose on the stuff AIS uses, so don't get used to being shot."

He opens a third ammunition crate. This time, it had black feathers as tails. He takes one out gingerly to show us. This dart was about thrice as big as the others, with a sleeker, more bullet-like design. The tip had a black cap on it, similar to how the other darts had corresponding caps to their colors. "This is an SLSD, Spring Loaded Sniper Dart. When you put it in the gun and blow on it, it'll activate the spring and travel twice as fast, twice as far. Use this only for faraway targets, or when you need to penetrate through thick armor and walls. Use them sparingly though. We have to import these. Hassle for DoR."

We all arm ourselves with nine darts of each color on our dart holders. I picked out a red dot sight and the go pack (a pre-set backpack for us to take when we go on missions so we don't have to pack them later), and was on my way. "Don't forget. If you can't shoot them, take out the dart from the holder and dig in. Keep your NVGs low on the ground. Let's go." We were all armed with all-black clothing, bulletproof vests and heavy boots. I guess it was also armor from the cold, as the sun had already sunk well below the horizon. We were working as a single unit, going to the outside world. It didn't sound hard. Just write it to the P.O. box of Trekistan, and it would've been done without a team. Skytree insists that we use this method. "Something happened. We don't use conventional mail anymore," he said mystically, trying to avoid the topic.

We walk up to the gate. After Skytree spoke into the intercom of the two guard towers beside the metal barrier, the two doors open. All of us step foot outside. The night was young, but it got even darker fast. The moon was beginning to rise, slightly clouded by the thinly overcast horizon. Crickets of the night chirped loudly, meshing into one giant cacophony of chirping and clicking. I felt like an actual sepc-ops soldier on a mission to deliver a few filing cabinets.

Our team consisted of six members, one being Skytree. He was the only one with a modified airsoft gun, which actually shot the same dart ammunition we had, "because he was the leader, and he said so". Two of the other members were the couriers that were carrying the filing cabinets. They had dart guns, but they didn't carry go-packs. They tied the filing cabinets shut with twine to make sure that it didn't open or jiggle and make noises as they ran. Another member was the designated medic, despite not having a medico uniform. He was the only one with a go-pack specifically tailored for first-aid. The fifth member was the only girl in our group, who had her long hair in a long pony tail, lengthening past her night-vision goggle strap. She was supposed to be our reconnaisance, scoping the land ahead with binoculars and making sure that the coast was clear.

And then there was me.

I didn't really have a speciailization, just the guy to help defend the others in case things go awry. I was fine by that though. Nothing important to remember but to fire when told. We walked down the road we came for a minute before going downhill in a forested patch outside the River Valley property. The slope of the hill met with the river very abruptly, so we had to be sure we knew where we were stepping.

We were walking alongside the river silently, the only sound being our footsteps crunching the leaves below us. Fifteen minutes into our route, the pitter-patter of rain began. At first, it only hit the canopy of trees, leaving us dry, but soon, our recon girl, Skylar, said that the ground would get slippery if we tried to climb up anything. Unfortunately for us, that was our next obstacle. "The rocks won't be of any help either. They'll be just as wet," she says. Skytree thinks of something as we all observe our surroundings on our maps.

"What's that?" our medic says. He was looking off across the river. There was a lone flashlight pointing straight ahead, and multiple green dots following behind. It was another night pack. "Are they with us?"

Skytree glances up with an expression that I could only describe as a mixture of deep confusion and panic. "There isn't supposed to be another night pack. We're the only ones out. Skylar, check them real quick. We gotta go." Skylar takes out a pair of big binoculars as she keeps her NVGs on.

"That doesn't look like our guys," she announces, handing them off to Skytree. He curses under his breath as he hands the binoculars back to Skylar.

"We need to go. Now. Everyone, go around the hill."

"It'll take us five-" Skylar began.

"I don't care how long it takes. We can't be seen by them." Who were these guys? I followed him without question, but I asked him something anyways.

"Who are they?"

"Trekistan Patrols. We got word back from them, and they aren't scheduled to move out in the night like that for this week." He takes out a radio transmitter in his jacket pocket. "Night Pack 016 this is Skytree. Mission Control do you copy?" It crackles back. The voice was normal, but Skytree had set the volume down real quiet.

"Mission Control to Night Pack 016, what's your status?" Skytree continued to look across the river as he spoke into the microphone.

"Yeah we have some Trekistanian patrols across the river in our route. There looks to be about fifteen, twenty of them out there. What's going on?" Mission Control went silent for a bit, trying to make sense of the whole situation.

"What? They aren't authorized to move out at all this week. Not in our line of fire."

"Yes, I'm aware," he says back. We started to make the climb around the hill. I slipped on the mud for a bit, but I regained my balance quickly. "So?"

Mission Control sounded shakier than usual. DoC was slipping for once. That caught me by surprise. "They...they aren't...supposed to be there...Hold on. Stay where you are."

"Stay where we are? Are you serious? We're just sitting ducks waiting to get shot if we just stand still!"

"Your travel information says that you're headed for Trekistan."

"Yes."

"Oh boy..." I hear some papers shuffling over the radio as Mission Control tries to gather up some documents. "Well, I'm sorry 016. We can't do anything about those patrols. You'll just have to be careful. We'll ask them about it, but we can't do it now. Do what the mission asks of, and we'll let official ambassadors do the talking." Skytree sighs, his breath heavy with frustration. I could tell he was holding himself back, holding back the raging anger that he was about to unleash.

"Just have to be careful..." he mutters, continuing our climb up the hill. Suddenly, some voices were speaking on the hill we were trying to avoid. Skytree holds his hand up, signaling us to stop. That wasn't us talking. Everyone slung their dart guns over their shoulder, ready for action. "Don't load yet..." We held our breaths, but all we heard was rain and the occasional crack of thunder far away.

We were not alone.

(1,944/27,603 words) Chapter 7 - Tri
Our cabin finally got back to our cabins, with that stupid campfire activity that we had to do. I had to admit, it was better than doing work, though. I get back to my bunkbed, change and lie in bed. It felt nice to finally be done for the day. When I heard that I was going to be part of the River Valley military, it sounded awesome. Well, minus the part about death, but it sounded better than doing paperwork. Then I had to do the basic training.

Despite the name, basic training is extraordinarily hard. Of course, I expected that, but it was still exhausting. The first part was learning the Soldier's Creed, then doing the salute every five seconds when told, and then the actual physical training. After we figured out how to shoot the blow dart guns, we went to the heavy lifting and fitness section. For the first day, it felt like I had been doing this for a month. I wonder what the other days are going to be like.

My eyes were just about closed when the lights suddenly turned on. A guard comes up and taps me on the shoulder wordlessly. I turn my head. He was motioning for me to go outside.

Once I was out in the freezing cold with nothing but shorts and a windbreaker, another guard motioned me to follow him. We were going to the woods this late at night? We went through a narrow path where I kept smacking into branches and vines of all kinds, but we eventually made it to a huge treehouse situated in between multiple trees. It rested on the canopy as two rope ladders hung from two entryways. "This is Watch Tower #5. You've been assigned here with two other guys to look over the place."

"But didn't Department say that we weren't guarding for the first night?" The staff member shrugged.

"Just following orders. You all know how to wake yourselves up and report calls. Good luck." He pats me on the shoulder and enters back into the shroud of the night as I was left alone next to the rope ladder.

It was a long, long way up, and it took a lot of courage for me not to look down. My hands were already getting sweaty after the first dozen rungs of the ladder. Fortunately, they had set up little platforms that would act as safety nets or resting points in case you fell at a high elevation. There were three wooden platforms along the way, and I finally made it to the fourth, which was the entrance.

Inside the treehouse were two other kids I was unfamiliar with. "You must be Tri," the first one says, pronouncing my name correctly. He had a similar jacket as mine and wore night-vision goggles. What did this place NOT have? "I'm Kaleb. With a K." I shake his hand. "This here is Damonte. All you need to know is that he's lazy and isn't worthy of his position in the Department of Security."

"Heard that," Damonte mumbles quietly. A baseball cap covered his face as his legs were outstretched.

"Drill here is simple. One of us are up for an hour until the next one is up. Because there're three of us, we get to sleep for two hours per shift. Cool, huh?" I nod, looking at the sick-looking sniper rifles lined up against the wall. There were four of them, all of them fully chambered with darts. They had scopes, grips—everything there is in an ordinary sniper rifle. "Take a look around. Ammo's over there. Guns against the wall. Water cooler there, crackers there. Try not to eat. It's loud."

I notice how claustrophobic this place really was. All of the storage containers were close together, and the only thing that was preventing me from falling down was how short the doorway us. None of us could stand up in here. I don't even think Dominic could stand up with his legs straight. "What's the roster?" I say.

"Me, Damonte, then you." I check my watch and turn on the light. It was only 12:09. "You better get some sleep now. Your two hours are ticking." I did as told and stretch out my legs outside. At least I didn't have to be in the fetal position the whole time. I close my eyes again, but after the cabin guard turned on the lights, I couldn't get relaxed again. Maybe it was the crickets. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the fact that I was working for people I don't even know.

Thirty minutes went by, and I was still wide awake. "Kaleb?" I say.

"Yeah?" He was looking beyond the large, fortified cement wall with a pair of powerful binoculars. He was as wide awake as I am.

"Why did they post us? Didn't they say that there wouldn't be night guards for the first day?" He shrugs in response.

"That's what they told me too, but DoS got a call from a night pack that there were Trekistanian patrols moving around about half a mile away from here."

"So?"

"They're not supposed to be out at all this week."

"And? They weren't bothering them were they?" Kaleb turns to face me.

"No, they're not supposed to be out. They might be out to scout us out." I internally raise an eyebrow.

"Scout us out? Why would they want to do that? They're an entirely different camp."

"There are other camps just like this one, you know. Why do you think we have militaries?" It suddenly clicked. There are wars that go around?

"You mean...have we...has River Valley fought, anyone?" Kaleb chuckles.

"Probably. The anthem has so much about holding on and fighting without end. I wouldn't be surprised if we started half of those wars either." I think for a moment and imagine an all out wars of darts flying around in military fatigues. It was hard to believe. How did we ever think that this was outdoor school? As I imagined the war being waged and people cowering in trenches and behind trees, I slowly shut my eyes as the sound of the crickets fade around me.

I suddenly awake to someone tapping my shoulder. It was Damonte. The sky was still the same purple-black as it was when I went to sleep. It didn't seem that long. Needless to say, I was really groggy. Did we have to be on such high alert at a time like this? My body was not prepared.

"Your turn..." Damonte whispers. I could barely see anything, even in the moonlight. I feel for his night-vision goggles. The goggles provided a much larger field of view than the naked eye. The boosted light also made it easier to pick up details in the dark even from far away. I take out the binoculars that I saw Kaleb holding and looked out beyond the wall like he did. I could see for about miles beyong the barrier. I've never had this much visibility before. Every little sway of the branches, every little fly that moves past a light, every little movement of the river was all so crystal clear.

I sit still and check the surroundings for what felt like half an hour. I check the watch. It was only 2:08. I sigh as I wait a little longer and watch the night. Everything was so silent and quiet. Even the crickets were sleeping. Absolute bliss.

Suddenly, a radio I didn't notice started crackling. "Security HQ to Sentinel #5, do you copy? Sentinel #5 doing a radio check." I rush over to the microphone that was placed behind the cardboard box of crackers.

"Yes, yes, this is Sentinel #5," I whisper back.

"Yeah, outside guards spotted some unidentified movement near your location. We've contacted other towers near you, but they haven't reported anything so far. You see anything, you contact this frequency, alright?" I give them a "copy" in response, and get back to the window, my NVG active. I looked for something that wasn't a tree or a bush swaying in the wind, but I got nothing. They must be hidden really well within the pines.

Dots suddenly appear all throughout the field, scattered out all throughout the forest. They were spread out in ten meter intervals, sweeping left and right. I turned my NVGs on and off again to make sure that I wasn't seeing things. I crawl over to the radios as quickly as possible. "Mission Control, this is Sentinel #5 I'm getting readings all outside me. They've swarmed the forest, I repeat, they've swarmed the forest." I crawl back and look outside, not caring whether or not Kaleb and Damonte wake up. Cursing, I see that the number of dots had tripled by now. They were crawling all throughout the forest. I ready my dart gun and load it with an SLSD. I take the microphone with me to the window, with my other hand on the trigger of the SLSD. "Mission Control, requesting permission to engage, Mission Control, requesting permission to engage. Do you copy?!"

Mission Control had gone silent by now. Where were they when I needed them the most? I checked the radio to make sure that I was on the right frequency. It was the same as before. "Mission Control, where are you? Mission Control do you copy?!" By now Damonte and Kaleb were wide awake. They heard the panic in my voice and took the dart guns off the wall.

"What's going on?" Kaleb asks me nervously. I give him the night vision goggles.

"They're everywhere," I say quietly, making sure that my rifle was ready. Mission Control still hasn't responded. I pick up the microphone again. "Mission Control, this is Sentinel #5-"

"Sentinel #5 you have been given clearance. You are clear to engage, I repeat, you are clear to engage." I spring into action and aim down my sights on the nearest pair of dots I could find. This wouldn't be easy to find. It was a lot harder than I expected, aiming down and trying to find the right angle to shoot the enemy at. Not being able to see my target and the trees they could hide in was the hardest part. The moment I had my sights on the four eyes, they would disappear into the shadow of the pines.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..." Kaleb says to himself. He opens fire smiling to himself. These guys were pinning them down left and right. Damonte continues to fire and hit as well. I guess these were the guys that actually paid attention in class. I peek outside the window and notice that they were firing at our little window as well. Darts hit the ceiling above and the floor below as all of their fire was focused on us.

I look below the long rope ladder below. Four green eyes were slowly making their way up. "Oh no." I reload my dart gun, making sure that the SLSD was snugly fit. I aim down the scope. My target wasn't hiding this time. I take a deep breath in, keeping my angle steady. In one, fierce blow, I let the dart fly,

Sending my target flying to the ground.

(1,456/27,603 words) Chapter 8 - Alex
The lights turn on, and I immediately snap awake. The alarm being played over the excessively loud speakers was anything but comforting. We all stand in attention as we rush to the gun cabinet. We knew exactly what this alarm meant. We were definitely in for an invasion. My squadron puts on their bulletproof vests, and quickly don our thick clothing. All of those movies that I watch, all of the games I play, all of the worlds I build in my imagination—they meant nothing now. This didn't feel like a heroic deed to be proud of, only to return with a happy ending and the guarantee of a better life after I fight effortlessly through endless waves of enemies.

This was reality, and in reality, war is never fun.

After we put on our armor, we all line up single file for our helmets. The final station before the exit was our dart gun, already fully chambered with twelve AAS darts and six AIS darts. We already knew our tactical routes, and before I knew it, we were on our way. I was part of Delta Squad, one of the sixteen squads that were part of the Department of Security. Each squad nas seven members in it. Two are medics, one's a sniper, three are , 

"Alright, boys. This is it. Mission Control says there's about thirty of them out there. DoS only deployed five squads, us obviously being part of it." We keep running into the dark forest without anything but our own instinct. Whatever was going on near Sentinel #5 wasn't as loud as I had expected, but after all, we are just using darts. "Split. 5-7-3 formation. Go, go, go!" I peel to the left along with a sniper as we try to find a place to settle down. We pick a boulder in between two trees as our spot. Here, we were pretty far away from the action, but we were sure that we could still do something about it.

"Settle here," I say to the sniper, who agreed without hesitation. "I got your back." I take out a small pair of binoculars to see if I could get anyone in his sights. I see four eyes hiding behind a tree. That's not one of our guys. "Bogey 3 o' clock." The sniper makes one, smooth, almost machine-like motion to the specified direction. "Behind a tree. No wind."

He adjusts his scope to focus on the target. "Got him locked," he tells me as he takes out an SLSD out of a chamber. "Your shot," I tell him. The sniper takes a deep breath in without sound and exhales with one acute action. The four eyes sank down to the ground immediately. The SLSD was louder than I thought.

"You think that'll give us away?" I whisper to him, scanning for more targets. The sniper scoffs.

"Nah." I see another four eyes not too far from here. He was definitely on the run.

"11 o' clock." The sniper understood completely and reacts accordingly. He fires a few seconds later, without having to tell him the wind and bullet drop. I guess he was the one that paid attention in training today. My radio crackles.

"Delta Squad 11," I respond.

"Yeah, situation's been cleared. They've put themselves down."

"What?"

"They're done. They've surrendered." The sniper heard that and looked away from his scope. Is that why this next target was running away? "Get over to the deciduous cabins. We got them there." The sniper gets up and clears his bipod and closes the lens of his scope.

"Guess we better get going," I say as I pick up my dart gun and head for the boys' cabins. The reamining Trekistanians were bound and kneeling at the center of the boys' cabins. Their weapons were all thrown into a pile in the corner as all of the squads make their way to the center. Fortunately for us, none of our men were lost. We rounded up all of the Trekitanians that we brought down. There were a total of five.

Our seargeant waited until all of us were here. "I guess that settles that..." he says. "Good thing there weren't more. We were not prepared for this." People from the cabins began to come out. The alarm that it caused probably had people freaked out. I wonder how the rest of the departments are going to react in this.

I remember when I was first enlisted into the Department of Security, when we were sworn into the military. The departments all had an argument during our swearing ceremony, debating which department should have which employees, or how they should share them. This problem was apparently sent to the Department of Workforces, but nothing's happened yet. I'm still being switched to different squads and positions all the time, being promoted and demoted constantly.

"We got them capped," the seargeant says through the radio transmitter. "What do you want to do with 'em?" Mission Control responded with something we couldn't hear. "Got it." He faces the rest of the squads. "MC wants us to get 'em into a POW camp in the Detention Facility." A POW camp? We've had plenty of breakouts there. Who knows how many exploits these guys are already aware of? Before we know it, I'll be posted there as a guard. That's gotta be the worst position in the Department of Security to date.

We all returned to our bunks, wondering what to make of this. On one hand, I felt fortunate that I wasn't caught in the direct line of fire, but on the other hand, I obviously felt scared for my life, knowing that I might be plucked from my sleep to be forced into what may very well be my death without warning.

The original plan was to be in Outdoor School, a fun escapade from the daily grind of school into the outdoors, and here I am, fighting in wars with other "Outdoor School" camps that I didn't even know was like us. What happens to the students that die? What happens to the students that are arrested? How does the Outdoor School nation express this to the parents? Will they tell them the truth? That their students died in the heat of a war? A WAR?

I lay still in my bunk staring up at the bunk above me. It sounded like everyone was fast asleep, like nothing had happened. Like it was a normal occurence, and that it would continu to be a normal occurence. How could people act like this? I've thought of joining the army at times, fun little, imaginitive thoughts in fighting with valor for our country. Only now have I ever thought of the serious consequences of war. What happens on the other side. Even the most hated enemies of mine still have families to return to, or if they don't, they have lives to live. Imagine ending that, taking their hopes and dreams, their thoughts and plans, all in a pull of a trigger. I think of the Trekistanian I helped kill today. I don't know how the sniper felt as he willingly aimed his sights and killed that guy, the I guy I never knew the name of or ever wished to be friends with. I'll only remember him as the guy I helped die tonight.

In the midst of all the chaos, I try to think of something good that came from this, something that could've been a lot worse if we hadn't come into the fight. Other students could have died. Innocent civilians could have been hurt if we hadn't responded so quickly. Despite that, I didn't feel like a trooper. When you look at the bigger picture, it's Outdoor Schools. It's teachers telling students to kill each other. Teachers leading a brutal, unfair bureaucracy that forces us to work that we never thought we would be doing at our age.

The Trekistanians probably wouldn't be happy holding their guys captive in the prisoner of war camps. I imagined what it would be like to be one of the Prisoners of War, or being the guy that was responsible for that squadron, knowing that he failed his nation that day, knowing that nothing good came out of it. I wonder if they were planning on having a vengeance raid. Were we prepared for a full-scale invasion? An all-out war between two alleged Outdoor School camps?

What may happen and I wish was to never happen might very well be the same thing.

(2,562/27,603 words) Chapter 9 - Luis
Yesterday's incident prompted an emergency meeting in the Department of Intelligence. The extravagant meeting room was pretty much ignored under these circumstances, where we all lay out the situation and try to find the causes and solutions to the problem. The Chief of Intelligence, a staff member with the nickname of Arden, looked abnormally stressed under her regular calm attitude. She kept pacing in front of the whiteboard. The Headquarters of Intelligence was especially busy today with the Department of Security, making our jobs that much harder.

After the chatter quieted down, Arden started the meeting addressing the agents.

"Settle. We have important business to cover," she says simply. The room goes silent immediately as everybody gave Arden their undivided attention. "What happened last night should not have. We need to be on the case with each and every one of these individuals. We need to have some talks with Trekistan. Whatever they were planning is unacceptable and must be dealt with immediately.

"The Camp Union is scheduled to meet tomorrow. We're going to need an ambassador to fill in that meeting. Luna?" I look up. "You've been chosen to be the official ambassador of River Valley for this council." I nod in surprise. I was the chosen one to go meet with other national officials?

"The meeting will be held at the International Hall. Be prepared to stay there for the night." We all knew the drill for an international council. It was simple. We talked for half an hour, have the people that watch us talk take notes, and then we go home a national heroes. Whatever that may entail. It almost felt too easy to be an ambassador. The occasional proposal of a treaty will come up, and then we would all sign it.

After a few other talks regarding the Department of Workforces and mild threats of conspiracy, Arden adjourned the meeting a little early. "Luna. Come early to your transportation thirty miutes before schedule. We'll go over what should and shouldn't happen and be talked about," Arden nudges me as everybody leaves the room with their manila folders and attache cases. It felt like a professional board meeting, minus the sales graphs and charts.

"I'll do what is needed," I reply. It still didn't feel right to work for the "River Valley". It felt dangerous to work with people like this. I didn't even know I would get such a high-ranking job. Arden nods in approval and lets me go to my cabin. As an agent and ambassador, I probably won't be the most liked person, especially after last night's incident. Trekistan in particular, I'm sure.

When I got back to my cabin, everyone looked at me as if I had just been sentenced to my death. "You won't be happy as a spy after this," Khang tells me as I pack my spare uniform for the trip.

"I'm an ambassador, and I'm sure it can't be that bad." Famous last words.

"Sure. You must've never seen any politician. Ever," another cabinmate remarks. The others seemed to agree. "You're gonna get destroyed back there," said another. "All we can say is, good luck."

Cybertree gives me a nod with some emotion: empathy. I never knew any of the staff members here were functioning human beings with minds and souls. I felt like I had been lied to my whole life. I lie dow on the top of my bunk bed. I know they were right. I just didn't want to discourage myself too much, knowing that there's too much of that already around.

I was writing a letter to my parents when Cybertree calls me over to the front of the cabin. "Hey. Arden's here to see you." I crawl down the bunkbed to meet the Chief of Intelligence, here to see me in person.

She was standing in between the two guards defending the cabin entrance. "Private meeting in my office," she tells me. "Don't be late." How could I be late if I didn't even know the time I was supposed to be there at? I get my attache case and make my way to the Headquarters of Intelligence deep in the forest. This was the most fortified building in the whole River Valley, while also being the most hidden. The secret entrance wasn't really secret. It was the only living tree with English vines draping on it. All I had to was knock on it three times after passing through the discreetly hidden path under some thick bushes. After the three knocks, I had to give them the callsign of the day, which was Sunflower for now.

As if by magic, something in the ground clicks with ominous and heavy-sounding metal. An indentation on the ground indicated the location of the otherwise hidden trapdoor, and, after climbing down the ladder, I was in the HQ of I. I walk past the meeting rooms and into the door at the end of the hallway. Arden was there by herself, organizing her desk silently. Without any natural sunlight, it felt like it was midnight.

"Arden?"

"Mr. Luna." She puts away her papers and points to a seat across from her. "We need to discuss some matters about your safety." I did as told and sat down with my suitcase on my lap. "You're not going to be everyone's favorite person in Trekistan." I nod. The only sound was the buzzing of the wall lights and the light movements of the ventilation system. Nobody else was in the building. Arden remotely unlocked the door from her office.

She takes out a case from under her desk. It was a lot thicker than mine; it was for holding equipment. She unlocks it and turns it towards me with one swift motion. The first thing I noticed was the folded bulletproof vest placed in the center. "You need to wear this under your suit tomorrow. They extend into sleeves for your legs and your arms, but there's nothing for your head. Stay low." She takes away the bulletproof vest from its spot. A small, but noticeable pistol was hidden underneath with two spare chambers next to it. "This is already loaded with six AAS darts. Airborne Assault Syringe darts. Lethal. Try not to poke yourself with the darts. They activate without being fired." It was good that she was telling me this, but she seemed to have no emotion, like she's gone over this numerous times with different agents, but to no avail. Her face was blank and expressionless, and her tone was monotone and flat.

"Am I gonna hide this?" I ask. She sighs.

"Yes. There's a holster here that attaches to your belt. Put it there on safety. I've lost multiple men that have left their pistols ready. Darts go through the clothes and the holster easily." She takes out the holster that fits with the gun perfectly. "Keep these for tomorrow," she hands me the case, signaling me to put everything away. Arden folds her hands on the desk and faces me with utmost seriousness. "This is not an easy job. I know it sounds simple. Just talk with the Trekistanians until you reach an agreement. Let me tell you, that we will be discussing last night's incident, and we are going to go over why it happened, and what we should do about it.

Don't think that this will be easy. They like to play hardball on the new guys. You need to relax and make sure you're going where you're comfortable. Don't go on a limb. You'll get stuck. You'll look unproffesional. You'll look unprepared." She takes out a manila folder that only had four papers inside. They were all forms and lists referring back to what happened last night, from the casualty count to the timestamps. "This is the cheat sheet for what happened, how it happened and when it happened. Study it. You can use this against them if they try to pin you to something that makes River Valley look bad." I looked over the form and covered very insignificant details. How was I supposed to use the height and weight of the POWs for anything useful?

"Look, I know it sounds hard. Some people say that it sounds like a fun game. It's not. They are not going to be nice, and they aren't going to forgiving. They'll find any flaw and they will roast you with it. Stay calm and remember what you say. Also..." she reaches down and takes out a small syringe containing a clear, water-like fluid. Her expression went from bored to suspenseful. "This is an experimental chemical. Department of Sciences tested this out on mice, and found that it has a pretty good chance of cancelling out the lethality of AAS. I wasn't really listening to the scientist that showed this to me. A lot of noise, a little talking. Remember, this is not foolproof. Use it as a final resort. It can take out two darts worth of AAS." She takes my hand, gives me the syringe and closes my hand.

"Keep this hidden. The others don't know I have it," her voice went quiet. She constantly kept checking left, right and behind her, despite having nobody else in the building.

"Wh-wha-"

"No one must know that you have this." Her face was stern, and her eyes fierce.

"Arden, what if-"

"I'll cover for you. I picked you for a reason. Just...just keep this. I..." She looked like she was having a mental battle against herself. What reason did she pick me for? "I...I can't...I..." Her eyes began to tear up. She takes off her glasses and wipes her hand across her eyes. Sniffling, she says, "I...I can't let another one...another one of you..." She breaks down and buries her head into her arms on the desk. "You're the...first one to know about this, Luna." She sniffs and takes a deep breath in. Her voice wavered intensely, as if her mouth forced her to stay quiet. "I'm...I'm a Trek-Trekistanian..." she gulps, as she exhales shakily. "I'm a spy under the River Valley division. Nobody knows this. Not even Snake. Please, do not tell anyone. I am trying to help you."

How was this supposed to help me? "I know what they plan to do. They will try to assassinate you." I held my breath. "River Valley is the most hated nation in Trekistan. That is why I tell you that it will be difficult. Because it will. They will force it to be difficult, and before any agreement is made, they will shoot you." I turn around to make sure no one was hearing this.

"Wait...why didn't you tell DoS?" Her face hardens, as if I offended her.

"Did you just hear me? I'm a Trekistanian agent. They'll know I am if I tell them about their plan. That's why only you can know this." I shake my head. This couldn't be happening. Death? So close? I hadn't even started middle school, and my life is already planned on being blown like a candle. "Don't be discouraged. Act like there is nothing wrong that day, and keep that antidote ready. It will be necessary. They'll call the whole thing off. All of that...all of that talk before this was not for tomorrow, because tomorrow will be over quickly. That's just for future reference." Wow. Thanks for wasting about ten minutes of my life explaining what I'm not going to be doing with Trekistan. But I had to commend her for her valor. She doesn't even know if I'm going to snitch and admit her to her execution. Arden was the most human staff member I know. She was someone people could connect to, people could empathize with. She was the only one I could tell had some emotion left within her. "Please, Luis. You may not be the top of the board, but you are under my responsibility. If I prevent your death, they'll kill me for being an unauthorized spy. If I let you die, they'll pin me for lax security."

"Wait, isn't there, isn't there another way for you to get away with being a spy? Like...like tell DoS that you plan on being a double agent or something." She chuckles and shakes her head.

"The reassignment process takes weeks. Plus they'll do a background check and a full audit of my activities. They'll pull up all of the dirt I've done. They'll know what I do. It isn't hard."

"Can't you do something about it? Alter the records or something? You have the power." She frowns and looks at me hard. Now, I think I've pushed her over the edge, one that I wasn't aware I could even get near.

"Look, I don't have time to jump through all of these hoops just to save myself. You think I haven't thought of that before? I know I'm the Chief of Intelligence. I'm well aware. Right now, I'm focused on saving your skin when you get shot in the head from a sniper that no one will be able to stop."

"Sorry..." She takes a deep breath in as she rests her head between her hands.

"Lost my temper. It's alright, Luna. I understand. You care too much just like I do." We sit in silence for a while. I try to imagine what it'd be like knowing that you're going to get attacked, but never knowing when. I stuff the vile of antidote into my suit pocket, making sure that it would stay there until tomorrow.

"Do you have any details that I should be aware of?" I ask quietly as not to shatter the silence too hard. "Locations? Windows to stay away from?" She shakes her head.

"No. I don't know that much. All I know is that they plan to kill you. Their Bureau of Information told us that." They had departments just like we did, except they switched out the names. Or maybe we had bureaus just like they did, and we switched out the names. "Look, Luna. In case if...if things don't go to plan..." she puts her hands mine. "I thank you for your service in the River Valley." She had the sincerity that I couldn't say no to. "I envy your escape," she whispers. I stop.

"What?"

"Nothing. I hate this stupid system."

"The countries?"

"What do you think?" She shakes her head. "It's nothing. You're dismissed." Finally, a staff member that wasn't like the rest, a staff member that still had a sense of perception outside of the River Valley and Trekistan and all the others countries that we think are Outdoor School.

Maybe there is hope for us after all.

(1,990/27,603 words) Chapter 10 - Alison
After the mysteriously delicious breakfast, the Headquarters of Science Laboratory was filling up with more researchers than before. Our most recent project was to formulate a better solution to the lethal darts we were using as ammunition. I guess we never really figured out why we were trying to make the dart better than what we already have. If it kills, that's enough. But I understand; they have higher standards. I don't know what the consequences here, and I'd rather fall in line than find out.

I looked around the lab, walking to the biochemical sector, thinking about Mr. Clydia and Mr. Johnsin. Have we completely abandoned them? I wonder what happened at the Department of Security, if the people working on them were punished for never finding them. I shudder at the thought of a punishment, especially here in the so-called "River Valley". I was fine with being a doctor for now, it was what I was hoping to do anyways. I just think I'm doing it for all the wrong reasons.

Fitting my labcoat, I burst into the room looking hurried. I wasn't really, I just like to make important-looking entrances. "So, what's the progress?" I huff out, pretending to be out of breath. The people seem to take in as well, the fact that I seem to be important. In only a single day I was promoted to second-in-command. I'm not sure if I do it on purpose, but I just...do.

"Ms. Paguio!" my asssistant calls me. He goes by Hugby, or Hugs for short. I know, I find it uncomfortable too. Especially when the mood is serious, and we just say "Hugs" as if we were supposed to take it seriously. "We have the results on A-003 batch. Let me tell you, it's a lot better than A-005 and B-004. We were doing lab work on some poisonous specimens. Our main focus was to see how fast and how easy it killed. Whichever one required the least amount of resources and manpower was going to be our new formula.

"Is it?" I look at his clipboard and see that A-003 was significantly faster than all of the other poisons, coming in at a sixth of a second faster than the second best. It killed the test rat in 1.2 seconds. Using human proportions, we estimate it'll probably kill a person in about half a minute. With the proper dosage, a dart could kill at the same time of a rat. Not bad, but I began to think how killing laboratory rats was against animal rights. "Not bad."

"Is this the one we use?" Hugs asks excitedly. The faster we get this done, the quicker we get paid. The quicker we get paid, the less we have to do. The less we have to do, the more spare time we have. What do we do in our spare time here?

I didn't want to rush it though. What hidden side effects could this have? "Uh...what else did you...find..."

"In the what?" Hugs asks.

"In the autopsy. Side effects? Other things that could slow down the death process?" He shakes his head.

"That's all, Paguio. We tweaked the poison and added in some chemicals to make it faster and more effective." Hugs's voice was fast and rushed. He wasn't hiding it very well that he wanted to get this done as soon as possible. "Come on, Ms. Paguio." I sigh.

"Alright. Tell them I gave you executive order. Give them a 4x6 to DoS to test it out." I sigh again. If I get in trouble for this...

The First Officer of Chemical Sciences came into the room. She was our boss in the chemical lab, and the head of the whole operation. I slap my face. I gave executive without her permission. Sh-

"It was not under my command to send that 4x6 to DoS. Paguio!" First Officer Ms. King beckons me with her finger, a disrespectful symbol in the Philippines. Needless to say, she was not from there. "Were you the one that sent the executive?" I nod shamefully, avoiding eye contact. Please, please don't turn me in. You know me, King. We've worked together. You've promoted me through three positions in the matter of a single work day, and it was only the first one too.

I wasn't the best at making excuses, or lying. "I...We...We had...to finish this one up quick. We have other-" I was sputtering down to unintelligible noises, which was not helping my case.

"What did we need to get to so quickly?" she added, crossing her arms. You don't scare me. The staff members do. King didn't have the right to boss me around like this. I get it, she's my manager. But she does not deserve this much power. Not if I could get here so quickly.

"The deadline." I say with utmost seriousness. Her expression changes from "in control" to surprised. I stop there. That was probably enough to shake her up.

"Uh...alright. Um..." King didn't know how to respond to that. Good. "I was planning...on giving the executive..." She was rubbing the back of her head, slowly backing into her office. If it was that easy to scare her, I wonder what else I could do. My guess is that she wasn't expecting something like that from me. Drama isn't something I'm used to. How is this going to affect my life here? Will it?

After lunch in the lab, King calls us to a board meeting in the Department of Sciences Headquarters. That situation better not affect us on a professional level too much. I really want to stay as a doctor. Seeing how strict things are run here, I wouldn't be rurprised if I was severely punished for talking back to a Chief.

Ms. King discusses our next mission, which is to find some way to neutralize the poison they created. An antidote. Department of Security hadn't reported anything peculiar with Batch A-003, maybe everything was alright. "We got an order from Department of Medicine, Department of Sciences, Department of Workforces...and...Capital..." We all groan. Capital was codename for the Mess Hall's hidden office. It contained the leaders of River Valley, including the Chiefs, and including Snake, the Chief of all Chiefs. The Department of all Departments. He was the head of everything. He didn't act like a dictator, judging by how he lets the departments run things, but he certainly could if he wanted to. "Capital told us to find an antidote for A-003. That's a strike on us. Three strikes and we all take a collective punishment." She didn't seem to be blaming me, so that's an improvement.

We need an antidote to the mix of poisons we randomly threw together in hopes of getting something that wasn't what the last chemical did. Great. As if we knew anything about chemicals. We weren't chemists, we were people pretending to be chemists, and it worked. We created a lethal poison seemingly by accident. Could we make an antidote by accident too?

After three hours of pretending to know chemical names and their catalysts, we finally broke off into the mandatory break period. The mandatory break period involved the entire River Valley, so the entire student faculty was just dropped off into an open field with no instruction of what to do or what not to do. I decide to meet up with my friends. This'll be a nice time to cool down for a bit. My brain was fried.

I looked around the field and noticed Elyssia standing in the middle of a crowd, yelling something. Great. Who was she arguing with this time? I walk a little closer, realizing my white labcoat was still on but not really caring. To my surprise, she wasn't fighting anybody, she was...proclaiming?

"The River Valley is all we need in our lives! No complicated government, society progressing at its own pace, leading themselves and solving the problems that they see need to be solved. Transparency is no longer an issue, for we are the government! We lead the River Valley not as citizens following a leader, but as citizens ruling each other." The crowd seemed to...like it?

I walk into the applause in confusion. Were they really agreeing with what she said? This had to be a joke. Were they seeing what this place really has done? They've turned us into workers for their nation that we never knew existed until now, a nation that we were forced into, lied about. We were here for outdoor school, but we got...this.

People smiled and grinned in cheer. They looked at each other with pride. Were people doing this as a joke? Pretending to love it? I didn't think it was funny, but it was certianly better than taking this seriously. Staff member and students guards were beginning to circle the crowd, slowly forcing everybody to the center. Was this planned?

Slowly, everybody was bunched together in the field. Everybody was at the center. Worst of all, everybody had to hear her. "The River Valley is a land of opportunity, not just a land of service. It is a service for the people." What was she talking about? Never would I ever imagine something like that coming out of her mouth. All these years she was for the people, and not for the government. Whatever they did to her was planned. Whatever this was...

A guard barged into the middle of the crowd, eyeing me. He had his weapon drawn, and he was determined to meet me. Not again. I don't know the penalty of those citations, but much like all the other punishments, I'd rather not find out. He grabs me forcefully by the shoulder. The hand was smaller than I thought. I look around and see that it was King.

My mind had too many things to comprehend to realize that King was now a guard for DoS as well. Was I going to get penalized this time, or was I just going to get another document that I had no idea what to do with? Either way I was not doing this again. She dragged me out of the crowd and past the perimeter of more student guards into the forest. She puts away her weapon. "Paguio," she whispers. I was shaking my head no already. "Look, I'm not DoS, I'm NOT DoS!" I stop. "You have to follow me out. They think I'm taking you to executive, which is out of River Valleey, but I'm not. There's...there's a plan floating around." I wanted to ask so many questions. My mind was whirling with them, and it was hard enough to put one foot in front of the other. How did King get through DoS? What was this plan that I was going to attend? Why aren't the guards reacting?

King takes me out farther from the wall than I had expeced, far out to the real Sandy River. It'd be nice to just sit still and relax, if it wasn't for this. "Over here. Nobody needs to see this..." There was a rusty chain link gate that she took a hold of in between two large boulders. It reminded me a lot of an underground ring for smugglers, just like the one Tyler kept telling me. DoW was not having a good day with the papers.

King forcefully rips the door open, causing it to violently shriek as the hinges came loose. She throws the fence aside. "Get in, patrol'll be here soon..." I look around, and, ignoring the fact that it was empty, I crawl into the gate with her.

(2,285/27,603 words) Chapter 11 - Khang
Department of Security Chief barges into my office for the third time today. I calmy put away my personal papers as he makes his way to my office. As one of the generals, I stand up and salute Nexus's entrance. "Sir," I say.

"We just released one of the props."

"Props, sir?"

"Propagandas. Looks like they're taking it well too." I gulp. They better not start posting things all over the walls next. The only way this could end was a "revolution", an "uprising". It sounded cool at first, until I started to think of how this would play out. Would it work in the end? The amount of revolutions I've seen came with great sacrifice for both sides. It's inevitable, but, is it delayable? "I came in here for a reason." He sets down a manila folder. Opening up revealed files of personal papers similar to mine. They had plans all over it, lines, maps, blueprints, schemes, and everything.

To find and kill Snake.

"All of the generals we've picked up are involved in a conspiracy which is a direct violation of Article 16 in the Code. Do you have any involvement of this group?" I was on the fence when I heard of the plan. I disagreed with everything River Valley stood for, but I didn't want to get caught by DoS, or one of their partners, Department of Justice. We don't know what they're capable of. I had to congratulate the other generals for complying with the plan to defy the Code. We were always getting warnings and promises of horror if we were to break the Code. I kept my mouth shut.

"What? Who would do that?" Nexus eyes me carefully. I guess the Play Dumb card would have to be for later. "I...I didn't know about this..."

"Did you? There is plenty of evidence that you had a private meeting without executive order. Meetings with more than three people in a single location is a direct violation of-"

"Private meeting? Do you know who's involved?" Here, Nexus went silent. Surveillance patrol was not in the tidiest condition; I would know, because I run them.

"I...I'm being sure. We're taking our chances and saying that all of you had some kind of involvement. All of the other generals are under questioning. You will be as well." I didn't know what to say. We WERE executive order. Who was "we" that was making these background decisions? "Staff Council declared the interrogation," he reads my mind. "You guys are all third class. Don't think you're executive just because you're told you are. We are executive. The staff is the head of the River Valley." They had effectively lied in the props they played out today. I didn't get to hear it, but I read a bit of the script. I had to say, I was mildly impressed.

"We know you have access to the entire arsenal of River Valley. We are well aware of your capability. However, we won't let you off the hook with this. Come on. You are under arrest." I was appalled.

"You can't do this!" I talk back for the first time during my stay.

"Under Snake's order, you are under arrest in suspicion of conspiracy. You kids think you're smart, thinking you can get away with planning something. Anything. Now we'll know the truth," he says as he cuffs me at my own desk. He forcefully opens my desk drawers, taking out all of the papers.

And all my personal plans.

"No, Nexus! You-" He takes me by my collar and drags me out of the room into the hands of two guards waiting outside my office. "...you can't..." They drag me to the Precinct, next door from the office complex for DoS.

"You're one of the generals, huh?" one of the guards say to me. "Can't you tell us to let you go? Pull some strings?" I growl and shake my head.

"If it was that easy, I would've done it. No. This is under Snake's command."

"Snake? You mean, the leader of River Valley?"

"Try dictator." The guards looked shocked, and they loosened their grips on my shoulder. It was as if they had newfound respect. Either that or it was the fear of Snake's power. "You know what he can do, right?" They shook their heads, not wanting to hear any more. "Anything he wants. Even if it involves the life of another student." They didn't know what I meant, but it was probably better that way. Maybe they did. I guess I'd never know.

After being led into the Precinct, a lot of paperwork and waiting was being done as the hours flew by. By the time I was at the last step, the sun was sinking into the horizon. The last step by the way, was the verdict. What did DoJ determine of the whole situation? Was I guilty of conspiracy, or was I going to be let go? I sat in the same waiting room for half an hour before a guard escorts me to a mini-courtroom built mostly for procedures like this, and not for real court battles. That'd be interesting to watch, a bunch of kids screaming "Objection!" as if they knew what it meant.

"Mr. Nguyen," the staff member reads aloud. The five of us, three being guards, one being the "judge" and the other being me, were all standing up. "The Department of Justice finds Mr. Nguyen, the accused, not guilty for conspiracy against the Humble Nation of River Valley. No punishments or citations will be held against you, and may you enjoy your freedom. Court is adjourned." The staff member taps his little gavel as I was escorted back outside. At least this place had some vision of mercy and justice.

"Return to your station, Mr. Nguyen," one of the generic guards told me. "Your papers are being confiscated and are under investigation. You'll get them back soon."

"Who told you that?" I asked him. His face showed me that he wasn't expecting that.

"Uh. Executive, sir." Right. Executive.

Walking back to my temporarily useless office, I wonder how little power we really have. The one thing the judge said as he announced my verdict, "...may you enjoy your freedom," was it really what it sounded like? Freedom to us meant choice. It meant that you could blaze your own trail into your own life. However, freedom here meant living at all. It meant not being captured or exiled. That was what freedom meant.

I exit the dirt path I tread on my first day and entered the Generals' Offices. Inside were two of my co-workers, also said to be not guilty of conspiracy. They sat in their chairs, facing each other. Their desks were empty, along with the computer that was provided to them, as it was under investigation by the Department of Justice. All of the desks were. What was the point of coming back to our offices now? There was nothing to do here. "You 'free' too?" one of them said to me. I nod as a signal of salutation and confirmation. They nod back. "I guess we're the only ones that were. You're last on the list, Nguyen. Alphabet stops at 'N' for us." I nod, this time, in reluctant acceptance. I was the last on the general's board. Nobody else was innocent, or at least, proven innocent.

"What now?" I say to them both. They shrug in unison.

"Nothing for us to do. Took our papers and everythin'," the second co-worker replies, looking around the room. He whispers, mostly to himself, "I don't know what happened to the others."

We all look around the office in silence, well, in awkwardness. "We shouldn't count on being free from conspiracy," the first co-worker says. The other one replies,

"Why not?"

"We don't know the results from the confiscation." I chuckle and chip in,

"Yeah, and we're supposed to be the ones leading their battles."

"No," the former interrupts. "We're the ones that do the boring paperwork. We do little of the strategy, that's what Council's for." I frown in confusion.

"Council?"

"Staff Council. Second class." I remember Nexus mentioning that we were third class earlier. "You DO know about the hierarchy, right?" I shrug in a kind of neutral way. The co-worker puts his hand down in front of him, indicating a level. "Fifth-class, prisoners and ne'er do wells. Keep 'em down there for punishment." He raises his hand a little, indicating a slightly higher level. "Fourth-class, all the people that do the hard work. Manual labor. Number crunching. Our assistants, et cetera." He raises his hand again. "Third-class, that's us. Most important students. We're the ones that are supposed to be with Council. Second-class. Staff. Finally, first-class." This time, he points to the ceiling. "Up there, that's Snake. Snake's first-class."

"Talk about pride..." the second one mutters.

"That's the hidden hierarchy of the Humble Nation of River Valley," the former concludes, clasping his hands together in finality. "Not a lot of people are aware of the hierarchy. It's a concept, after all. Not really a set system in place. Well, it probably is. Whatever." We continue to stand still without any conversation for a while, just basking in the fact that we didn't get any instructions.

We wait for another half hour until something came up on one of the office phones. I pick it up. "Department of Security, Generals' Offices," I begin.

"Yeah, are there any remaining students in there?" a student calls. They student pretty tense, as if they were being watched by second-class workers. "U-Uh...any...any people that were told to return...from...from not being guilty?"

"Yes. We have three here in the room, including me," I respond in the most professional voice that I could muster. That pretty much entailed being as calm and collected as possible despite the circumstances. I slowly reach over and hit the speaker button and motion the two other co-workers to come closer to the phone.

"Yeah, okay, well, we have a report here from the Department of Justice...uh, 'DoJ'." The student pronounces the acronym of DoJ as "dodge". It sounded forced. I could see the dummy cards through the phone. "And I was told...to tell you guys...about...it." We anticipate every word that comes out of the speaker, as if our lives depended on it. Well, in this case, it very well could. "Uh...is there a Khang Nguyen, in that room? This is...the only report I have right...right now."

I nod and say quietly, "This...this is he."

"I got a report that...DoJ...changes its mind about...about the ruling." I nearly drop the phone on the floor. What did this mean? "You're still not guilty, but, they decided in the end to give you a citation in your Profile Sheet." What did this mean? Was there going to be a serious punishment? I better not. I didn't really do much here, but I was a third-class, that better be something. I don't know. I was just trying to find an excuse to defend myself with.

"What does this mean?"

"Uh...nothing much, Mr. Nguyen. It's alright...r-really..." The student clears their throat over the phone, making them sound even more suspicious. "Just...wanted to let you know." I clear my own throat, signalling that this conversation was more than over. We hang up at the same time without another word as I turn around.

"What's a citation?" They both shrug. All of us working for the Department of Security and we have no idea what this citation even was.

"Probably something stupid to scare us with."

"Well, if they had to call me to let me know about having one, maybe it isn't," I say back, a little irritated. You had to be with all of these rules and punishments and little slips of paper. You're already forced into this stupid job, now you're being dragged through the mud for doing nothing. Guilty by association, as they would call it. It was ridiculous, really. What're they going to do in case there is a war with Trekistan? I know one of the co-workers said that Council would take care of it, but would they really? They hired us for a reason. It was only a matter of finding out when we were going to be useful.
"Well, if they had to call me to let me know about having one, maybe it isn't," I say back, a little irritated. You had to be with all of these rules and punishments and little slips of paper. You're already forced into this stupid job, now you're being dragged through the mud for doing nothing. Guilty by association, as they would call it. It was ridiculous, really. What're they going to do in case there is a war with Trekistan? I know one of the co-workers said that Council would take care of it, but would they really? They hired us for a reason.

It was only a matter of finding out when we were going to be useful.

(2,099/27,603 words) Chapter 12 - Tyler

Something about this place bothered me.

Maybe it was the fact that we were all forced into these jobs, as if we were old enough to handle them. Maybe it was the way the staff and the students that worked in the Department of Security treated us. Maybe it was how much power I was still handed on a silver platter that I refused to release or abuse all at once.

I don't know, I can't quite put my finger on it.

As the hours ticked by, I manage to get through ten different cases today, all ranging in magnitude and difficulty. Some of them were easy to take care of, just little inefficiencies, but others, such as the really big cases that actually mattered, those took me a while. It took all of us a while, according to the lunch break with my co-workers. Evidently, all of the administrators were having trouble going through these cases and deciding what to do with our practically infinite power.

After my doughnut break, I got a big case that had some familiar names on them. It was a request from the Department of Security. As we've learned, DoS pretty much rules the land, making decisions and changing the rules in the name of security. It was so powerful, that a lot of us at the Department of Workforces wondered if we would be caught in its grasp as well. We were the only department that had a grip against them. It felt good, but at the same time it didn't considering that we depended on that power to remain free.

The form requested for the release of a certain someone named TEIYA L. ALAGAR from the Department of Security. They were held in custody for suspicion of conspiracy against the River Valley. It was bizarre how many times people were arrested for the suspicion of conspiracy. We were all questioned at least once, some of us obviously more than others. It was a scary thought, knowing that the staff always assumed you were working against them. I guess we were still getting used to this whole thing.

My hand was over at the REFERRAL stamp when I stopped. It was Teiya, my classmate. This was the first time I had seen someone that wasn't from another school in my work. I could have referred her over to the Department of Justice for them to take care of it, but...

I moved my hand over to the APPROVED stamp, the wooden handle still a little shiny from the little use that it has endured. It could be so easy...and the audit officer probably wouldn't notice.

I harmlessly tap the green ink onto the page and wrote down "Release her. Clydia and Johnsin case is long gone." Maybe it will pass. I pick up the cheap printer paper and slowly let it drift down into the OUT box, filing it to the Department of Workforces Processing Station. What harm could it have done?

I sit still for a minute and sit there in my desk, wondering what punishment they could have done to me or her. I've seen how many times people freak out when they say that they're being punished, and I've heard of being arrested and detained and being brought to the Precinct, but I've never really suffered any real consequences. I don't think a lot of people have. Maybe no one has, and they're just blowing the DoS's threats out of proportion, if there even is anything to be worried about. I doubt it. We are just kids after all.

After working hours, we all remove our stacks of paper from our work today. I still think of the one paper that I purposefully disobeyed protocol on. The green ink was burned into my mind. Was it that hard to spot a pattern if I were an audit officer? Was an audit officer only responsible for one person, or were they processing others as well? I'll get a "citation", whatever that means, and that'll be the end of it. We all walk over to the mess hall for dinner when I see it.

A student was making a beeline straight for one of the guards. The moment the armed staff member noticed, the student had already pounced on him, wrangling the weapon out of the guard's hands. What was going on? The muddled line that I was in panicked, and a flood of students headed the opposite direction. The student was being backed up by three, four, six, ten more students. This was planned. This was what River Valley was afraid of. Multiple guards on the opposing side opened fire on the dozen or so students that had banded together. They were scattering, finding cover to make their way over to the new weapons.

The crowd, meanwhile, was shouting and screaming, grabbing onto anything to make them get out of there faster.Those that were already in the mess hall stayed inside, watching from the opposite wall from the entrance. This was death, happening right in front of me. How come I'm the only one that seems to notice these things in my class? Everyone else I talk to from my school just dismiss it as a freak accident, but I seem to have the best memory of them, as if I was meant to see them.

Darts flew as guards and students alike dropped like flies. They fell onto the grass, limp like a log. I would've thought they were sleeping if it weren't for the fact that I knew what those syringes were. Eventually, the last three students, only one of them armed with a dart gun, were pinned and surrounded by more guards. They had swamped them. The students were facing an entire army now. Darts flew mercilessly at the students, hitting them despite already being hit. All of them drop together, collapsing into a heap. They were dead. No longer able to continue their lives. They willingly risked themselves, thinking that it would get somewhere.

But it didn't.

The panic was still going on as I was dragged by another student involuntarily back into the woods, where our workplaces were. That was better than facing the chaos and seeing what this place was willing to do. What if you were a guard? You had authority to deliver deadly force to other students, kids your age! You worked alongside staff members, yet you were still labeled as a third-class citizen, something I had only recently learned about. The hierarchy.

Other kids, just like me, could kill. Kill others without thinking twice and without remorse. That last part, I'm not sure, but it felt like it. I could see it in their face when they aim down the barrel. I bet it felt great at first, like playing a video game with real guns. Until they realize that it wasn't a video game. How could the educational system allow this? Is it even allowed?

After about a half hour of contemplating what had recently happened and the Department of Security investigating the scene and figuring out what to do, we all shuffle cautiously to the mess hall. Our eyes were watchful and paranoid, quickly looking left and right as if it'd happen again. This time, more guards were posted. Not only that, but multiple cars, well, sedans, were parked in front of the mess hall. They had sunroofs, allowing turrets of AASs to be placed above the car. I didn't know they had assault vehicles either. The things you learn in one day.

The dinner was awkwardly silent, with little conversation due to the recent attack. Or the attempt, at least. I guess everyone was shaken up. Why wouldn't we? People died right in front of us, and it was adults that let this happen, to little kids! The most I would be willing to do was to tranquilize someone else. At least give them a second chance, another try to do better, rather than just kill them on the spot. I'm not sure what those rebels were trying to do. Maybe their goal was to get their hands on the weapons to harm other students. It didn't seem likely though; we were pretty close to the action ourselves.

Maybe they were trying to escape, just like Clydia and Johnsin, the case I had dismissed as irrelevant. Maybe they just hated River Valley, and wanted to make an epic final stand before they finally got out of this hellhole the hard way. Either way, it was burned into our minds forever. We would never forget what happened here. No one.

Something else happened after the dinner that confused us as well. Snake personally suspended the evening campfire for a little bit, standing in front of the whole school with his arms raised. Were we supposed to clap, and then he was supposed to act flattered? Did he think that there was conversation going on? After a while, all of the heads in the room were turning towards him. "Current residents of the River Valley, I am Snake, as you may know, and if you don't, allow me to enlighten you. I am the top leader of this nation. I am the one that turns the crank of the gears that is the River Valley." Apparently everyone already knew that, judging by how he visited us in our classrooms only a few weeks ago. "Now I am well aware of the events of today.

Yes, we all are... "And I would like to reassure you all, that River Valley is and will continue to be the safest place we can make it. The Department of Security is working around the clock to ensure your safety. The Department of Justice is punishing those involved to make sure that it doesn't happen again. The Department of Workforces is surveying our activities to investigate anything that stands out to be against River Valley. Yes, those were a few people that would dare fight against our community, but now, they have been terminated." He must have expected us to clap, as he stopped talking for a few seconds. I wasn't sure if he acknowledged the fact that everyone was on the other side concerning the "attack", but he continued talking anyway with his hands up to stop the applaud that never came. "I can assure you, and I swear this nation to it, that all of the departments are working to their fullest capacity to keep this community safe and functioning.

"There is nothing to fear. Continue to work hard in your assigned occupations and departments, and you will be rewarded. You will be rewarded with a warm bed, a nice meal, and, most importantly of all, a protected community. Long live the River Valley." And just like that, his little speech was over. He walked off into some door where a few guards were awaiting his presence. He really was treated like royalty here.

Despite the long speech that probably took five minutes to write on a Word document, nobody felt any different than before. We weren't scared of each other; we were all sure that the majority was on the same side. We were scared of the River Valley, whatever community it claimed to be.

The suspended campfire activity was eventually cancelled. We were all alright with that. We couldn't stand another one of their propos dumbed down into cheesy songs that had nothing to do with campfires. I was surprised how they prepped up the performers so well without having them breakdown in front of the rest of the schools when it did come to the real thing. The one with Elyssia that one day was pretty spot on. The public speech part fit real with her, but...what she said certainly didn't.

We all returned to our cabins, but this night, we weren't exhausted. We were still scared for our lives. We knew that the students around us wouldn't be the ones taking them. It was the staff. I know I said earlier that the punishments must not have been bad, but, the way Snake said that the Department of Justice was "punishing those involved to make sure that it doesn't happen again"... That left a mark on me, and I wouldn't be surprised if it irked everyone else.

(2,430/27,603 words) Chapter 13 - Gili

Yesterday's event had the whole office whirring with concern. All of the meeting rooms were packed with brainstormers as they were all trying to find ways to ease the fire that slowly burned in all of the students. Just like every other school, there's always a few troublemakers that just want to make things worse. I don't necessarily agree with death being the only option to stopping them, but at least it got the job done, and it showed what River Valley was willing to do in order to stop perpetrators in the future.

While I really missed my home, I was glad that we were living in an otherwise safe place. I liked Snake's speech last night. Even though he missed the whole point, which was that there were a lot of hidden people that wanted River Valley taken down, but nevertheless, I liked his message anyways. It's one of the ongoing themes that we're told to follow: We are safe here. It may not be perfect, but we really are doing all we can to keep each other's going for tomorrow.

The Department of Culture has also been trying to make up the lost content for the campfire activities. I've always wanted to play a part in it, but I guess I'll just have to stick with what I was assigned with. I was put on the Propaganda Division, nicknamed the "Reassurance Committee" by the staff members. I don't know about you, but I think "propaganda" is a bit of a stretch. Either way, I was happy that I had a job anyways. In this economy, it's a miracle any of us here had.

The meeting had just started when I entered the room. The schedule here is pointlessly tight. It gets a lot of people trouble when they're only thirty seconds late.

"Hello, Ms. Kaptur. Take a seat." I did as told, choosing a swivel chair close to the exit. It was a very professional office, with wooden tables and soft swivel chairs for everyone. The walls and the door of the meeting room were made of tempered glass, suggesting a sizable budget. Did they import this, or did they make this themselves? Surely kids my age weren't making this...

"Today, we are going to discuss a rather troubling situation." Some in the room in their heads, mine included. It truly was a tragedy. "It seems as if there are a select few of us residing in the Nation that have thoughts of conspiracy. That is to say, we are not perfect enough. We are apparently not good enough as a Nation, prompting some students to turn. To bite the hand that feeds them." She was right. How unappreciative can people be to be willing to kill in order to get what they want? What did they want? They had everything set up for them here, and they willingly chose to partake in its destruction? The logic there didn't add up for me.

"Do any of you have questions?" All of us looked around, awaiting a hand. The staff member looked around as well, shaking her head. "No? No? Alright then. Obviously, as the lack of education suggests, people are unaware of the real meaning of the incident. Some believe that it was an act for freedom. Some say that it was an act of pure rebellion without reason. The truth is, it is because we are insufficient as a provider. They were clearly unhappy with their lives here, and decided to bring others down in an act of insanity. We have yet to evaluate each and every student with a professional psychiatrist from the Department of Health, but we know for sure that this was not an attack without reason." It was hard to believe that the staff member left or mentioned no margin of error. The reasons she listed before "the truth" were plausible in my opinion.

"What kind of campaign should we launch?" a hand shot up, asking the question before they were called.

"We will use everything under our power to instill the idea that we are indeed a hard-working nation working towards the perfect environment. The staff is well aware that this is impossible to achieve, as perfection is a myth. However, we will try our best to get as close to it as we can." Another hand shot up in the air.

"Yes?"

"What is the divisionary priority list regaring this all-out campaign?" a girl asked, looking down her notes.

"We'll contact the Campfire Division first. The staff has agreed that it is the best time in which we can educate others about this situation. Second would be the Recreational Division; we have some plans for that already. Thirdly, the Paper Division will post throughout national grounds as well as print off some pamphlets for each cabin. We believe that this issue will be solved without a problem as swiftly as we can." She sounded very sure, her voice stern and unwavering, but professional and communicative. It felt like an honor to be in her presence. There have been rumors floating around about a student staff member, but, she seems to fit the bill entirely.

She understands the situation and explains it to laymen like us, and she talks to us in a way that isn't demeaning or derogatory. It felt like I had a real job.

Another rumor I noticed in the break room was a hierarchy system dividing everybody into a social class system. I disagree, seeing as how united we are as a nation. Even though I know this isn't a sovereign country, I still don't think that the staff members would willingly split us all up into groups depending on our jobs. It isn't fair, and I think they're aware that it's unfair as well.

"Any other suggestions?" she says, bringing me back to reality. I look down on my steno pad and see that I had unwillingly filled up three pages with notes. They were mostly fragments and bullet points and random questions, but they were still in order, cramming the pages. I bet if this was enlarged and put on a wall, this would look like an artistic mural. I just hope nobody looked too deeply into it.

I raise my hand courageously. Or at least, it felt like something courageous.

"Yes?" she looks at me expectantly, her eyes lighting up. I still couldn't get over how celebrated we were, even if we were just students.

"I was wondering about how we're going to utilize this information into the campfire period of the day? What particular form of media should we target?" She thoughtfully looks into the air for a minute, thinking about the question for herself.

"Well, we don't have any songs ready for that kind of thing, so I assume that Campfire will have to stick with scripted skits. No alliteration intended." A somehow fake but somehow wholehearted giggle filled the room. I nod in thanks and write it down in my notes.

It was pretty crazy how much work we got done. Ranging from posters, to scripts, to brainstorming new ways to instill this ideology of having the "perfect place", the Department of Culture was working without tire to finish this project as quickly but also as gradually as possible. "Don't make it look like we rushed it," I remember Snake personally telling us during our lunch break. "Make it look real and relatable, just like they seem to like it." We did exactly as told, using hashtags and recent trends as our tool. That also brought another thing to mind. Why was there no internet around here? A better question would be, why was there no internet used in this kind of project? It changes so often that we have to be constantly checking what's in and what's out, not to mention that the students wouldn't be up to date with that kind of thing either.

Regardless, we got a good amount of legwork done for the first day. That evening, we were to help strategically place the posters around the camp in a way that looked distributed and scattered, but not individualistic. I was assigned as one of the officers. Campfire had come and gone, and I was scheduled to be one of the people on night duty, the people that were supposed to put up the posters around the camp. It felt like a real profession, despite the fact that I didn't get a wage or any government benefits. This was a full-time gig after all.

One of the first things I was given was a map with a circled area. Probably the area I was in charge of. We were also assigned walkie-talkies that were set to a really low volume; so not to disrupt the sleeping. The night was very young when I set out on one of the cement paths. The crickets were roaring tonight, as if they were protesting and rioting wildly at us. My group consisted of just me, two guys with some posters cheaply made with markers this afternoon and a half-asleep staff guard that patrolled ten feet behind us. Only I brought a flashlight, much to my surprise, making it a little bit harder to determine where I was supposed to go or where the posters would look the best.

I guess they put me to the right job, considering how I kind of had a knack for design. Maybe they somehow knew that, or maybe they knew all of us from the way we behaved. With a system so strict with that needs ID cards, I wouldn't be surprised if they had field researchers with us. At least their form of surveillance was nothing too personal, or anything too intrusive at that. I'm glad that there are still places that respect people's privacy, even a plac as strict as this.

"Okay, we'll put a few of them on the cabin walls, the ones facing inward, and then one of the cabin doors will have a poster..." I survey the cabin roundabout, trying to find the most visible locations.

"Wait, a moment, Ms. Kaptur..." one of the workers say to me. "Should we lock it down hard with heavy tape? I feel that the upcoming storm would blow it away easily..." I agreed on it, and we continued to work around the whole campsite, or at least, my designated spot. At this point, there were posters every few feet you walked. The moment you walked out of sight from one, there would be another to greet you. Much to my surprise, some people were assigned in the middle of the forest. Even escapees can't get away from the poster.

I wondered what kind of effect this would have on the students as they continued to see this everywhere. Would it even be possible to not see it everywhere? I wasn't assigned to the interiors of buildings, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were inside. Maybe, this is going a little bit too far...

No, I have to think of the positives. I won't let people like those that ruined our day yesterday bring the rest of us down. We have to be strong. We have everything we need here. I don't know why anybody would want to bite the hand that feeds them. It isn't fair. They work hard to keep us going, and in return all they do is complain. What did they do to deserve this much hatred?

Maybe I'm being a little close-minded about this. I really did try to find out why they acted this way. I tried to see things through their eyes. But I still don't get it. I was just like them, working a job like an adult. Sure, some of them were more strenuous than others, but we were played with a safe place to stay and three warm meals a day.

"What was I supposed to do, Gili?" someone says. Their voice sounded tired and defeated, as if they tried to win a game in desperation, but lost every time. I whirl around me and saw one of my workers coming back. She was supposed to be pasting one of the posters on the walls of a cabin, but she came back with it, still in her hands.

Suddenly, I fill with an instantaneous feeling of rage. "Excuse me, Ms. Lillian?! What power do you have to call me by my first name?!" I shout at her. She doesn't react at first, a stunned expression plastered on her face. "Do you even listen to any orders that are given to you?! Do you pay attention at all?!" 

The other students around her look at me with shock, but I pushed on, continuing to reprimand the insubordinate little brat. Who did she think she was, disobeying such a basic rule of respect at a night job? She didn't apologize, she didn't say anything. All she did was look at the ground and stay silent, her eyes glistening in the moonlight and the cabin lights. "This will be deducted from...your..." I stop. She was crying.

What have I done?

I look around and see other students separating us, as the one I was yelling at was being led away. I promised to punish her, didn't I? I didn't need to think back at my words to know what I had said. What had brought me to do this? To yell at another kid my age? And for what? I was beginning to cry myself. I avert my eyes from the other students, embarrassed of what I've done. This isn't who I am. This isn't what I believe in.

The worst part was how this behavior was encouraged, almost rewarded, to punish those that genuinely have no guidance, and to boss them around like slaves with barely anything but the basics, and no free will. Was this really the person I wanted to be? I felt hot in my uniform, and my stomach lurched. No, this isn't it. I don't want people to look at me and think this is who I really am. It isn't me!

Is this really what the River Valley truly believes?

(/27,603 words) Chapter 14 - Dominic
It felt like mere seconds had passed by since we've spotted the patrols, but it was really the only thing on our minds. We had been out the entirety of this week. As I counted the days, I remember that it was Thursday. Or Wednesday. Not that he counted it. When we returned home, the one week of Outdoor School is over. Would we even make it back on time? Even if we didn't, I'm just glad to be out of here, as cool as this might be.

The encounter and the fear for any kind of danger, regardless of the magnitude, had jarred us more than usual. I can tell that everyone was telling themselves that it wasn't a big deal, that they were just students like us. It worked for nobody. We all remained silent.

As our little troop advances down the route, taking a detour and avoiding some dangerously slippery rock faces, we kept a sharp eye out for anything that was moving. Squirrels that broke twigs and birds that shook trees scared us the most, seeing as how high-alert we were. Before long, we neared the end of our route, and the rain had stopped. The morning fog and dew was setting in, and everything below our knees were soggy. The sunrise would have painted the sky with beautiful hues if it wasn't overcast. Instead, all we got was a dull gray blanket. 

Needless to say, we were near collapse from fatigue. Skytree was the only one wide awake. I guess the Trekistanians were keeping him up. "Just hold on a little longer, guys," he encourages us, pushing forward through a patch of wet mud. His endurance was supernatural. How do people stay awake and continue moving at the same time for so long?

"Wait," Skytree holds his hand up to signal a pause. We all halt slowly without looking up. "There should be a post nearby." There must have been protocol he didn't explain. Taking out his radio, he switches the channel and converses laconically. "We're authorized to pass. Let's move."

Reluctantly moving our aching feet and burning legs, we push onwards, passing a well camouflaged treehouse. That must have been the post he was talking to. There, in the distance, like an oasis, was a large wall that stretched beyond the fog on both sides. It was largely cement like ours, lined with little posts here and there. This hit too close to home.

We near the two large posts marked with bright red flags. They were adjacent to the large metal gate, one on each side. The metal gate was also crudely covered with sheets of slightly rusted corrugated metal. Just looking at it from afar made me cringe. Anybody that went too close could easily get cut. I guess that was the point.

"Halt!" someone my age shouts from one of the little towers. We obey, the filing cabinet slung forward. Skytree takes it from whoever was holding it. I didn't see, I was too busy taking in the wall, the cut off from civilization, the isolation. We waited for an awkward five minutes before the same kid my age shouts back, "Gates, part!"

And, right on cue, the metal gates separate from each other, revealing a large field. It was hilly, as far as I could tell from the elevations of the trees. There were also a lot of trees, making seeing far ahead difficult. There were some houses and buildings down the roads, but other than that, the rest of the camp was invisible.

We walk inside, nervous and apprehensive. Skytree, however, didn't hesitate. Walking forward, he silently urges us to follow behind him closely. "If it wasn't evident enough, River Valley and Trekistan don't like each other too well. Let's not provoke anyone?" He adjusts his grip on the black filing cabinet as we slowly walk within Trekistan grounds. Was this really what we traveled all that way for?

The more we traversed this new "nation", the more we realize that it was really all the same. What was so different between them and us? What was the reason for the hate and the discourse? Maybe I'm not seeing the context of the situation. We pass by a sign marking the entrance of "The Sacred Land of Trekistan". What was it with over-glorifying these outdoor school camps? These still had to pay American taxes, right? Abide with American law? I'm almost certain that this was illegal, by all accounts.

Whatever. I'm going home after this anyways. "The Correspondence Office is up ahead," Skytree says to us. We pass pairs of soldier guards staring us down as we walk by. Again, they were students our age, wearing helmets that resemble Nazi World War II helmets, and trench coats that reached below their knees. Admittedly, it was a little cold. I also noticed the dart guns they had, which were nearly identical to ours. We had the same kind. I wonder if they were manufactured at a certain place.

Our little team walk inside the Correspondence Office, which was just flooded with trench-coat guards. Skytree spoke to a secretary at the front desk momentarily, who in turn talked into a small microphone. "Let 'em in," a deep voice called. Our team captain knew the protocol and walked into the door on the right without letting the secretary finish her sentence.

Inside was most likely a student. They looked to be in high school, judging by his facial features and build. He was dressed in what I can only describe is a military officer uniform. Multiple medals and colors were pinned on him, and he wore a well-kept peaked cap. Skytree faced him in anger, slamming the wet, black filer on the desk. The rain drops got all over the paperwork, but the Trekistanian student didn't react.

"Officer Skytree, I see you are here with the informational transfer?" the student asks without emotion. Skytree ignored him entirely, rage burning behind his eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Skytree yells at the officer. Whatever was going between these two was heated. Maybe the officer was ready for what was going to happen, or already knew what was going to happen. His face remained frozen, staring deadly at Skytree. Neither of them reacted to the others' expression. "I gave you your information, now you tell me, why did you send scouts?" The Correspondent Officer didn't reply. He didn't even blink. "I know you sent recon over. I saw it for myself!"

The officer takes a glance at us behind Skytree, leaning to the side in the process. "It is too early for the children to be hearing screams. I bet you have drained them of their energy entirely, you barbaric scum." Skytree's eyes turned from a burning inferno to smoldering coals. They were hot, but he knew that the officer was right. It wasn't Skytree's fault, I know. He was just following orders.

The room was silent, and the tension was strong. It felt like the movies; any moment now, one of them was going to bust out into a raging frenzy and attack the other. It didn't happen, fortunately, but that didn't help our stress levels. Both of them hated each other, or maybe Skytree just hated Trekistan. Either way, we could feel the hate in the room as if it was a thick, muggy air. It was hard to breathe from the tension on our chests. All we could do is stare at our feet, waiting for orders while trying to endure all of the yelling and the searing hate.

"Don't tell me how to run my troop!"

"And don't tell me how to run mine."

They both wordlessly agreed on a stalemate. "Thank you for delivering the necessary information," the officer says, wiping down the filing cabinet to rid it of water. "You've been dismissed." Needless to say, being given orders like a subordinate didn't make Skytree happy, but he held it back with whatever remaining self-control he had. "I believe we're done here," he mumbles quietly, walking away. He didn't need to tell us that we needed to follow. We were clearly done with Trekistan.

I couldn't help but look over at what I could see in Trekistan. In the distance, I could make out what seemed to be some kind of mine or quarry. Workers were there, splitting something, or picking out a mineral from rocks with real pickaxes. How did they support this child labor? How did Camp Arrah Wanna, or Trekistan, as they call it here, gotten away with this abuse. At this point, it wasn't a big deal; it had unfortunately become a regular part of life. What were the consequences of revolt, a question I had, and I'm sure everyone else has had, before? Given that the means of resistance were readily provided, would it be possible to revolt and escape this mess?

In the mines, I heard a familiar tune, but it faintly sounded Russian, by the way it was sung, and how it sounded. "Vyydu, vyydu vrozh' vysokuyu..." I keep looking as I walk by.

"What're they singing?" I ask our recon, Skylar.

"Korobeiniki. It's a Russian folk song," she replies. "Well, you probably know it as Tetris Theme A." She was right. It did sound like Tetris.

"Why are they singing it here?" I ask. We near the metal gates from earlier. The sun was beginning to rise now, breaking through the thin slits between tree branches. It made for an odd mix between shadow and light.

"Well, you know how work is. Labor work, particularly. It's hard, is it not?" We get clearance, even encouragement, to leave. "They need something to pass the time by. I'll tell you more about it later." I nod and we walk out into the forest once more. For an exchange that lasted for about a minute, we had to walk for more than a week.

Once were far away from Trekistan, Skylar walks up to me. "As I was saying earlier..." she readjusts her dart gun sling and looks at the ground. While the terrain we were covering now was mostly dry, our feet were still waterlogged. Skytree had warned us of fungal infections, but none of us complained of them so far. "Trekistan and River Valley aren't in the best terms." I nod. Everyone else was listening in, whether or not Skylar was oblivious to this or not. "I learned all of this from my cabin leader. She talked about the River War of 2012. Skytree stops, shocking us all. We don't hesitate and stop as well. Skytree looks at us with unease.

"Skylar?" he says, looking at her, not with anger, but in concern. "Where did you learn about that?" She thought she was in trouble. Everyone was looking at her in the open field. She started cowering and tearing up. "Keep in mind, you're not in trouble. I was told by Snake to never speak about this."

"My...my cabin leader..."

"Your cabin leader, huh? Well, if you want to talk about this war-"

"Wait, there are more than one?" one of our rifleman blurt out loud, causing Skytree to reluctantly nod. A flock of geese fly overhead as the noon sky lit up with its highest intensity. 

"Why don't we take a lunch break and talk about it?"

After setting up our camp, Skytree sits down with the rest of us, looking into the campfire we made reminiscently. He strangely seemed like someone that hated the system, at least from what I can pick up. "I think I can trust you guys enough not to snitch on me, yes?"

We nod reverently, grateful that someone can talk to us without having the fear of being hung for treason. It was a gory superstition that we never saw for ourselves; we always assumed there was serious punishment for something as simple as speaking your mind. Whatever the case, we were glad that a staff member was getting real with us.

"The First War started around 2009, a small land grab for a patch of river that looked good for building cabins. A couple of camps were involved, including us, but it wasn't that big of a deal. It blew off and faded away after about two months, and it's been empty ever since," Skytree continues to look into the campfire, observing the sparks flying in and out, and the sticks slowly deteriorating and crumbling under the heat. It was almost therapeutic; something so ambient and relaxing, to watch the death of tree limbs.

"The Second War, known as the World War I for us, was another land grab. It was a pretty big deal because everyone got involved, and it didn't look like it was stopping after the first three months. That was the war I fought in." I had to marvel at the dramatic narration Skytree was pushing. "It sounds exaggerated, but it was really a big deal. That was when we first used elastic weaponry: slingshots, large catapults, the like."

"Who won?" I found myself asking. Skytree chuckled.

"Trekistan won. That's why they're about 150% bigger than the rest of the camps. Nobody likes them now, well, except for some of the other territories they occupy." It almost sounded like a real history lesson. Wait...

"So is every camp like this?" I ask.