Fallacies, Book 1

Frightened by the sudden changes within the country, Natalie Matthews decides to become a part of the governing system to change it from within... Chapter 2

2

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We walk over the hill down the long city sidewalk, watching the sun peeking above a mountain ahead to indicate the start to the evening. Sean keeps looking at me for the first several minutes and as much as I want to talk and get to know him, my eyes keep straight, doing their best to avoid him at the risk of crying now that I’m stabilizing myself. No matter how exciting this opportunity may be for my future, the thought of leaving my family for three years, if not longer, is impossible to deal with. I know that I’ll talk to them again this evening, but it’ll only be for a goodbye, unless of course the program turns out to be so horrible that I retract my interest to join before then.

“What’s on your mind?” Sean asks beside me, as if sensing my brain struggling to think straight. It breaks me out of my reverie, but I can’t give him any more indication than glancing at him for a fraction of a second just to acknowledge him. He raises his eyebrows at me expectantly, clearly not considering that a good enough answer.

“Just thinking,” I say quickly, feeling my breath start to condense.

“That’s so specific,” he responds mockingly. “What are you thinking about?”

“My family.” Saying these words makes my head spin, my feet already feeling like jelly walking over charred ground.

To my surprise, Sean stops walking and puts his briefcase down. His eyes beam a deep-green against the setting sunset and his dark hair glistens in a short cut. He walks over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. Still, I have a hard time looking up at him, so I focus on his chest. His head leans down to get a better look at my face, forcing my eyes to his.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s OK to be scared, but this isn’t anything to be afraid of. Your parents will always be there for you and this is just a day trip.”

“I know,” I say. “But when I come back, it won’t be for long.”

“True, but when you come back to train, you’ll have two homes. You’ll have a family here too.”

I nod, knowing that he’s right. The only problem is that I’m not sure whether I want to be a part of the family I’m about to meet. He lets his hands fall from my shoulders and stoops down to retrieve his briefcase, picking up the pace almost like he’s trying to keep me distracted.

“So what was it like when you first started training?” I ask, curious why he cares so much about my feelings towards this.

“Oh, it was horrible,” he answers in a playfully dreadful tone. “My body ached and there was practically no rest for weeks. You get used to it, though.”

“Is that supposed to be encouraging?”

He flashes me a smile, clueing me in that he’s just messing with me.

“Aren’t there tryouts, though?” I continue, realizing that all of those girls couldn’t have gotten in automatically when the Council is attempting to recruit capable soldiers.

“Yeah,” he explains. “There will be. Only so many will get in, but it will be important that we recruit as many as possible.”

“How can I take a tour of the facility and say goodbye to my parents so quickly if I haven’t passed the test, though? I might not even be allowed to stay.”

“I said that there is a test. I didn’t say that everyone is required to pass the same one.”

That sounds too cryptic to make sense, so I frown at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I wouldn’t be taking you to your new home if you hadn’t passed it already.”

“But what did I pass? You never gave me a test.”

He smiles at me, but doesn’t elaborate. Maybe the test was overcoming my fear of applying or leaving my family, but I never actually overcame that fear. I still dread leaving and my decision to go is based off of a risk. Was it perhaps the promise he made to my dad?

“Where are you from?” I ask him, wondering if my last thought has any significance.

“From Ves,” he answers.

“Do you know my dad somehow?”

He slows down, hesitating. “No. We just met today.”

“OK. Then what’s with the hesitation?”

This makes him come to a stop. I stop with him and hold my breath, guessing that I overstepped the line by calling him out.

“Listen,” he says, all emotion gone from his voice. “You ask a lot of sensitive questions without regard for who you’re asking them to. The military is not a place for that. You need to understand that keeping your questions short and between friends will save you a lot of headaches. Don’t confuse friendship with kindness. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I respond quietly, all interest in talking with him lost. Without a second look at me, he keeps walking and I start breathing normally again, making sure to keep a half-step behind him.

Within a few more minutes, we reach the end of the sidewalk and meet a metal gate with two guards standing outside and a barbed-wire fence reaching across both directions to conceal whatever is inside. Sean comes over to them and whispers something to one. The guard calls for someone in an ear phone and the gate opens. Sean motions for me to follow him inside and we walk into a military complex. The ground turns from concrete to dirt and the immediate area is covered with an obstacle course standing before a giant concrete building in the distance.

“Welcome to your new home,” he says, continuing down the main path towards the structure.

While this is nowhere near as bad as I imagined, I can tell that my stay here won’t be a lot of fun. The strangest thing of all about this is that there are only a few people in the vicinity and they are all walking, rather than going across the obstacle course or even exercising, most probably a result of the parade today. We reach the concrete structure and I realize just how large it is up close, with windows peeking out from the sides where rooms must be. It must reach up close to a dozen stories, with the top made up of glass sparkling against the atmosphere, contrasting the plain exterior of the walls below. The doors are of the same metal that makes up the gates to the complex and the overall appearance looks more like a prison than a training facility. There’s a long, lever-like handle on each door and when Sean pulls on the left one, it swings open easily enough. I take a step inside and my heart stops. The interior is not what the outside represents. The floor is pure marble, with a staircase lining the far back of the hall, leading up countless floors. Walls surrounding me glisten with digital lamps made to look like torches with flames rising towards a ceiling painted with an art that could be confused with stainless glass. Men and women of around my age walk confidently across the floor dressed in black and gold uniforms that consist of tight-fitted pants and polos or jackets. Not one is out of place. The women have hair flowing behind them, as if a wind is carrying it back, while the men have short cuts like Sean’s. There is no fear in their eyes, no questioning, no complacency; only confidence, as if they know precisely where they belong.

Sean heads up the staircase and I run behind to catch up.

“This is unbelievable,” I say in awe.

“I know,” he nods in agreement. “It’s nothing like what you’d expect it to be just from looking at the outside. This place really is a fortress, but it’s beautiful.”

We head up to the third floor, a level with smooth floors that sparkle and chandeliers that line the ceiling as we walk across to a room at the far end of the hallway. The door is made of a brownish-red wood that reminds me of cherry wood. Without knocking, Sean opens it up and steps inside, leaving it open for me to follow. My first step feels magical, as if I’ve just entered a dream. The walls glisten with a silver-white sparkle, the bed raised high with golden covers and a white frame patterned with a light-grey criss-cross design. My eyes flow across it as my legs carry me towards it. A carpet lines the area beneath the bed with soft white fibers. As I edge over to the window at the right of the foot of the bed, I look onto the yard beneath. This must be facing the far side of the building, because the view is nothing like the dirt obstacle course I first encountered. There’s a concrete courtyard lined with a perimeter of stone statues and a fountain in the middle, soldiers sitting on the benches in their leisure and a long stone bridge leading onto a plateau in the distance, where I can see the sun casting off its golden rays as it sets.

I turn my head to look back at the room with my mouth opening to speak in amazement and find Sean sitting on the edge of the bed, letting me soak everything in. Even after a moment, I can’t find words to describe how I feel. So, I turn back to the window and continue to stare out, questioning if I will wake up from this dream. Yet, nothing changes. The air feels different around me, cool and refreshing, and all fears and doubts begin melting away. Everything I had imagined was a misconception. It’s as if there’s no military, just a palace. Minutes pass and I stand here in complete silence. The sky grows darker and I begin to forget that there’s anyone else in the world around me; that I’m not alone in the room. Before too long, I remember that Sean is still here with me, despite how silent he’s been. I turn my head back over to him and decide to break the quiet.

“I don’t know what to say,” I confess. “This is nothing like what I expected. This place is a palace, not a base or a military complex.” He takes a moment to answer, as if gathering his thoughts.

“That’s the illusion,” he concludes. “You’ll feel like it’s a training facility at times, but there are definitely a lot of distractions to make it worthwhile. I told you that there was nothing to be scared of, didn’t I?” A smile plays on his lips and his eyebrows are raised with his eyes lit open, lights dancing inside just like the sparkle cast off the grounds below.

I laugh. “You’re right, but you did tell me that it was OK to be afraid. The fear just disappeared with it.”

“So, do you want to see more?”

I pause, looking back outside at the darkened world.

“Not yet,” I answer calmly. “This just got awesome. I want to see it in the dark first, before we look through the rest. Is that OK?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’s exactly what I wanted when I was in your place.”

He gets up and comes over beside me, resting his elbows on the windowsill alongside me and looking into the distance.

“I’m not here for training, am I?” I ask, looking over at him. After all, he is a military First-In-Command, not required by any standards to recruit me for training. There are so many other aspects of the government that I could be brought into and with so many additional applicants, there can’t be a coincidence that I was brought along on the spot.

“How’d you guess?” he asks, his eyes searching mine in surprise.

“Because I didn’t pass that kind of test,” I answer simply, remembering what he had said.

We continue to look into the distance for a long while, watching as the stars begin to emerge into the dark curtain the sky casts above. When I can’t catch sight of the courtyard anymore, a string of LED lights appear on the edges of the bridge, with the fountain springing into gold as the water becomes lit from inside of the stone base.

“Now it feels like the right moment to keep going,” I tell him, getting my fill of the room and the appearance of the courtyard. If nothing else, standing here has given me an opportunity to relax and get a better idea of where I’m going to live. It makes me feel more comfortable with the place, alleviating most of the anxiousness.

“Alright,” he replies eagerly. “Then let’s go.”

He leads me to the door, this time holding it open for me. I don’t even notice him grabbing his briefcase until he walks past me to take me down the stairs. When we reach the bottom floor, he takes a left and leads me down to the corner of the room to a fairly well-lit corridor shaped like a tunnel with paintings lining the walls here and there in velvety red frames. The lights are the same lanterns, just adjusted so the digital flames ascend a shorter distance to the ceiling, strengthening the perception of real fire.

“Where are we heading to?” I ask, coming to his side with the innate fear of getting lost if all the lights go out.

“You’ll find out,” he responds curtly. “We’re almost there.”

“Somehow, I feel that you won’t be able to cover the tip of my questions.”

The second the sentence is out of my mouth, I regret it, getting a frustrated look from him. He opens his mouth like he’s about to make a remark, so I cut in.

“They multiplied quite a few times in the last hour,” I add in to assure him that I don’t question his competence.

“I guess we’ll see,” he murmurs, unconvinced.

We come onto an archway opening with a set of heavy wooden doors. Sean pulls the right one open for me and as we step in, lets it close with a sharp thud. The room within is white and dome-shaped, the ceiling curving out like an orb, with lights lining the walls feet above the floor in a circle around us. The center of the room holds a raised platform with a flat screen raised to be clearly seen by either side of the room. Lines of seats are facing it, much like an auditorium, each equipped with a protruding computer system in place of a desk. The enclosed atmosphere feels strange and spacious. I can hear Sean’s breaths echo with mine, our movements vibrating with each step. He walks over to the stand and begins messing with a keypad below the screen. I sink down on the lowest row of seating facing him to wait.

The computer system in front of me is equipped with a regular keyboard and a monitor with a clear screen over a dark-grey hard back, as if a quarter inch of clear plastic is lining a solid grey plastic backdrop. Just as I become interested in trying it out, a sound comes from the platform and the overhead screen powers on to display an image of what appears to be the outline of the military complex. I can make out the fence enclosing it, the courtyard, obstacle course, the building we’re in, divided into sections and floors, and a system of forest grounds outside of it, beyond the bridge that I watched the sun set over.

“Take a look at this,” Sean’s voice sounds from behind the control panel. “This is the building where we’re located in the Kinoport.” He points to a room at the far right edge of the building that’s shaped, surely enough, like an orb. “This is the place where all of our lectures take place, where soldiers come to learn, and where we keep our library database. Everything available for you to learn is stored here on these computers. This room was built decades ago, when the division of Crestpoint from the United States was just a concept, in hopes that it would be used as something more meaningful than a computer room.”

He continues to play with the virtual model as it zooms around to the courtyard and onto the outlying buildings.

“These are the apartments that many of our soldiers decide to live in,” he continues. “They are much different than the homes in the city, but provide a living community for us to stay connected. Many of our recruits stay there, but a few others will stay in the administrative building just as you will. Living in this building is available only to those in the leadership management program, rather than soldiers themselves. This program is where we train our leaders to be a part of the governing system, such as the Council.”

“You were never a part of the leadership management program that you recruit members for?” I ask, attempting to tie the entire picture together.

“Not at all,” he answers in amusement. “I originally came into regular training, but a few months later, was promoted to First-In-Command. It was a good experience and helped me to build ties with the soldiers while staying on top of my career.”

“Why is it that you want me to be in management?” I question, seeing that this isn’t even something he has experience in. From the sound of it, he really doesn’t recruit anyone for this program. “I came here to learn how to fight, not supervise anybody.”

“And you will. You’ll be doing precisely what I did, but your focus will be in management. Trust me. It will help you stay in control.” This makes me feel uneasy. I came with him under the impression that I would be trained to be a soldier, not to manage them. Still, being a part of the system governing them would give me a stronger influence over the military, although I’m not convinced that it’s what I want. “The training for this is simple, not to say that it will be easy, but it will incorporate strategy, training, management, defense, offense, and public relations. You’ll never be tied to a specific sector of the military. You’ll have a hand in most everything. Sound good so far?”

“I’m not sure. How did you not tell me what I was coming here for? You never mentioned this.”

“Of course I didn’t. If I did, would that have made it easier for you to take the chance in coming here?”

“Maybe,” I say honestly. “How would I know unless you said anything?”

“I’m saying it now. You still have a chance to back out. You’ll just blow your chance of getting into either program.”

He pauses for a second while I think about how to approach this.

“Do you want to stay?” he asks again with more demand in his tone. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” I respond, realizing that I’m already here and this isn’t a bad option, even if he should have made me aware of it sooner.

“Good,” he says, continuing to move the map around, this time onto the obstacle course. “This is the training center where you’ll start off on, because it involves a lot of physical activity. Before you start off with any management training, you need to master this. You can practice outside of training hours, but you need to attend each session. I’d recommend putting your hair up at first. It gets dirty.” His voice loses an edge to it that I have trouble not associating with sarcasm, making me wonder whether he was being serious. “Next, you’ll deal with public relations, in which you’ll compete with a multitude of other participants for a position right below the Council to gain experience in leadership. You’ll also be the face of the military just like I was today in recruiting members. Finally, you’ll train in public policy, management, and training. They all go hand-in-hand to a degree, but you’ll find that out for yourself soon enough. Any questions?”

“A couple. What do I do in this competition?”

“Compete. That’s all I can tell you right now.” He shuts the screen off and walks down from the stand. “Any others?”

“Do you typically recruit anyone for the management program?”

He becomes more guarded, but doesn’t let it affect him otherwise. “No. I don’t. Any others?”

“Nope. Everything else was a follow up question to that.”

“Alright. Then let’s talk. Come over here.” I walk over to where he’s standing and he looks closely at me, keeping eye contact for emphasis. “This is no game. The fact that you’re participating in both programs will put you under the eye of both the military and Council. You’ll face a lot of obstacles in getting where you want to be and I won’t always be able to help you, if I’ll get a hand in it at all. You can still fail. Just because you passed my test, doesn’t mean you’ll pass theirs. If you have questions, think about them hard before opening your mouth. I told you this earlier and it’s worth saying again; don’t talk if you don’t need to. Ask the right questions and make sure you know who you’re asking them to. I made your dad a promise and I’m not planning to compromise your safety anytime soon, but whether or not you come home in one piece three years from now is mainly up to you. The country is growing and that means that a lot will be compromised for it to get there. Building a military can be the most sensitive aspect. It’s our defense system and political sectors will attempt to utilize it. Therefore, if you stand out of place and compromise the public policies they are working to enforce, they won’t want you there at all. However, they will have a hard time kicking you out at a certain point in your time here, especially when you’re the face of the military operations that they approve. You will report directly to me, but you will have other instructors throughout all of this after your training is over. There will also be others you will train with, enough of them for you to worry about your success. In other words, please be careful.”

I simply nod, not knowing what to do with his warning with how little overall information I’m being given. He won’t look away from me, as if he doubts my commitment and understanding of what he’s relaying to me. He’s right. I might be aware of the seriousness of this opportunity, but I can’t apply his warnings to anything at this point.

“You do understand what I’m saying, right?” he asks, as if he’s reading my mind.

“Not at all,” I admit. The only answer left is honesty.

This makes him loosen his cool and his eyes fall from me and back to give me a look of complete disbelief.

“Let me rephrase,” I continue. “I understand what you’re telling me, but I don’t know what will happen with how little I’ve heard so far, so I can’t apply it to any scenario. You’re telling me not to be scared but to also worry. I can be as careful as I need to be to stay safe, but I also came here for answers and not asking them will compromise that goal. The only thing I can do is remember what you said and trust you.”

“You can also listen to me,” he presses. “Whatever questions you have will be answered through your experiences. Asking them to the wrong people will just mislead you and make you question yourself.” He pauses for a second, taking a step away from me to look at the computer station behind him and turning back, as serious as before. “Promise me this; you won’t disregard anything I just told you. You’ll stay quiet.”

“Sure.” Realistically, my answer is a no to staying quiet, but I have no trouble in remembering what he told me. Unfortunately for him, they don’t go hand-in-hand.

“What?” His arms rise in the air in frustration, flopping down loudly against his sides. “What does that mean?”

I put it simply. “It means that I won’t disregard anything, but I won’t stay quiet when I know I don’t need to.”

“You won’t know.”

“Then you don’t know me.” I glare at him, starting to get irritated by his mistrust.

“Obviously. Let me know when you decide to agree, because you’re not leaving this room until you do. Or you can back out now; whatever you prefer.”

I can tell that he isn’t going to negotiate and I won’t back out, if nothing else than for the principle of proving him wrong. “I’m not backing out. So, fine. I’ll promise. Now, will you promise me something?”

“No,” he says without more than a second’s thought.

Author's Note

We've progressed quite a bit now. Any thoughts?