Static, Tessa Kaput [book reader for pc txt] 📗

Static
I live in a world of fear, where we no longer can count on the ones we love or those who were meant to protect us. In school we learn how the United States was weak, and eventually fell to The Age of Technology. We learn that when The States fell, Arona was born, and with it, The Academy. Everyone divided the land for control and we were no longer one nation, indivisible.
The world broke into pieces, no authority, no boundaries, no hope for peace. But we were all reunited by Arona. It was the entity that held us together. When the war ended, Arona and a handful of small provinces that scattered the globe still remained. We, as a nation, rose from the ashes of a weak system and were reborn to an age of advancement.
My name is Keeta Grey. I was born in a small village fifteen years ago. My village exists under the authority of The Northern Academy. There are five Academies, one for the north, south, east, west, and central. It is punishable by death to go against the word of The Academy. When a child turns thirteen, they are able to be recruited by The Academy. A year ago, my older brother was taken by The Academy to become a soldier, and three weeks later he came home in a wooden box. He was only seventeen. My mother died during labor of my little brother Aaron, and my father drank himself to death when I was ten. So all that was left was my two brothers and I, but after my older brother died, I had to take care of Aaron. I worked in town as an employee of the general store where I made just enough to support my brother and I, as long as I bought only the minimal from town and hunt for the rest.
That day was Aaron’s tenth birthday, and I wanted to make it special, so that morning I went fishing to catch his favorite. I caught two fishes and gathered a bag of forest nuts, I didn’t want to bring any more than that home for fear that it will spoil. When I got home, I began to gut the fish and placed it in some stock to make stew. Aaron was still at school, so I had time clean a little before he came home. When he did, he came in and gave me a hug before going to wash up. He started his homework and finished his dinner. Then a knock came from the door. When I answered, two men stood at my door. One wore a suit while the other was dressed as a soldier. The man in the suit stepped forward, and said, “Keeta Grey, you have been Activated under the authority of The Northern Academy. Please be ready for departure in one hour, thank you for your time.” My stomach dropped at those words. I remember Aaron’s face when I had to tell him that I was leaving. He usually never cried or pouted, but he cried hysterically and said he didn’t want me to die like big brother. I told him that nothing like that would happen, but I didn’t know that for sure. I packed his clothes in a bag and walked him across town to the group home. I told the woman in charge what had happened and she welcomed him to his new home. I hugged him, told him to be good and that loved him. Then I left and never saw him again.
In no time I was swept away in bus full of other kids my age that brought us to a large building that looked more like a fortress than a training center. When we arrived at the Academy, our lives changed and none of us would be the same again. In single file we were all brought to a waiting room where one by one we entered a small room with surgical tools spread everywhere and men in white coats and face masks swarmed like flies to moldy food. When I entered the room, a woman took my right arm stuck it in an enclosed tube. When I pulled my arm out, I was tattooed like my brother. G-72697 was printed in neat black letters and numbers. I was brought to a table, and they pulled back the reverse side of my collar. A plastic strip was placed down the length of my spine, and only moments later I was filled with an agonizing pain in my bones as I felt long needles pierce my skin and spine and hook on. I stifled a cry, but I couldn’t stop the scream that emerged from my throat. I was then handed a folded set of clothes and changed behind a curtain before going to another waiting room. All of those faces looked removed and more scared than I was when my older brother left. I looked in a mirror and saw a long metal cord in small jointed increments that followed the length of my back and it looked like a metal spine that rested on the surface of my skin. Needles jutted into my skin that now felt raw and burned red. A mechanical voice spoke aloud to the room , “Attention, this will be your last verbal command. The chip installed to your neck will transmit any command or order, conversation or question. You are now all connected to each other and The Academy. This is one of the many privileges our gracious Academy has given us. We are all a single unit fighting for a cause of unity. No one is permitted to do the following: speak out loud to anyone, make fights with fellow soldiers, go against the words of The Academy, or defy the connection we have all been granted. Any violation of these terms will result in immediate disciplinary punishment or execution for said defiance.”
From that day forward we trained as soldiers. No one made small talk or looked the other in the eye. Soon any thoughts of home were drowned out by training, meals, and orders. Every day we rise with the sun, dress and eat. Then we train until noon and then we eat a midday meal. When we finish, we train, and once a week we meet with a doctor who checks our chips. No one tries speaking out loud. Once though, a boy did. He was yelling about static in his head, and he attacked a guard for he believed he was trapped. He had put everyone on edge. He was executed that day for breaking the law code. I wondered if he remembered who he was, because I don’t know who I am, but I pushed the thought out because any of my own thoughts could be heard at any moment. I no longer remember my name. I do somewhere, but when I try to think about my life before The Academy, my head fills with a buzzing noise, and the longer I try, it gets louder and louder until it sounds like a radio that has gone out of service, the commanders call it ‘static’. As long as I don’t think outside of my orders, the static stays out of my head.
Today I will serve The Academy as a soldier on my first mission. I’ve trained for nearly a year now. I feel nervous, but I am on a simple mission, nothing could go wrong. My only concern is to serve the Academy. I am confused by my emotions as I gather my gear and enter the Humvee that will drive a group of others and me. I don’t think about my emotions too often because the commanders say that they are weakness, and if we are weak, we cannot exist in this world.
We arrive at a small village, and our commander gives us an order that will ring in my head from that day forth. Then the quiet village was rained upon with a shower of bullet casings and fire from explosives. The air itself cracked with each loud shot that fired into the bodies of the helpless. I shot into the screaming crowd, as I was ordered to. I didn’t think I was actually hitting anyone, and for some reason, that thought relieved me. When the firing stopped, we were ordered to search and kill any survivors. My orders are the only thing that mattered to me. I walked into a house. The walls are plain, but were covered in a child’s drawings and paintings. I heard the scampering of footsteps in the kitchen, and peered around the corner, gun ready to shoot. As I entered a man, middle aged and grey haired, stood behind a counter, hands in the air. My orders still stood. Fire at will. I closed my eyes, and fired three times into him. I looked down to see his blood splattered on the walls. Then I heard the screams of a small child. Her eyes filled with tears as she cried for her papa. I raise the gun at her, I don’t want to do this, I can’t, and I won’t. My head fills with static at my defiance and my commander’s voice fills my thoughts. Speaking through thought is not the most pleasant of feelings. In fact, I hated it. It almost hurt trying to speak with others in this manner. Sometimes it came with more ease than most days, but today was not one of those days.
“Leave no survivors soldier. That’s an order!” he said.
“She’s only a child, not even five, I can’t kill her!” I answered.
“You can and you will! Repeat, leave no survivors.”
I took a step back, her eyes begging me to help her. I closed my eyes and hear a shot fire through and hear her gasp for air. I open my eyes to see her bleeding from her side. I know I didn’t pull the trigger, I couldn’t have. I look behind me; a soldier, my partner, stood by the dead man, his gun trained on the little girl. He looks ready to fire again, ready to kill aimlessly. I tackle him to the ground. His gun flies to the side as we wrestled for control. He yells at me in my head to release him and to pull myself together for the mission. But I wouldn’t, I am going to save this girl if it’s the last thing I do. I take a knife from my boot, and stab him once through his gear. I pull away. He isn’t dead, but he might be soon. My hands were covered in his blood. He collapses to the ground, breathing in quick, short breaths. I take the little girl, who lay against the wall crying softly and staring blankly at the blood on her, outside of the building and rushed back in and drag the soldier out into the opening. He would live, but if I stayed, the girl and I wouldn’t. She is still bleeding, so I cover it with ripped cloth from my shirt, hoist her onto my back, and run into the forest.