CH11

I stand in a forest clearing under the late summer sky, with around three dozen other kids my age, as our Teacher slowly walks through our ranks, a staff in his hand. It is our first lesson with him and I do not know what to expect. That makes me feel unsafe and I hate that feeling. He is a broad shouldered guy in his late thirties with a demeanor of a soldier. He walks with firm steps and impassive expression. We are all quiet, but few are afraid. Nervous maybe, but not afraid. We are all young, boys and girls, there is no one older than ten. I can see it painted on their childish faces as I stand at the back, even though I am too young myself to understand it fully. Indifference, calculation, a little bit of excitement or even hope…

Most of these children went through hell and saw too much to be intimidated by some big guy with a stick. Many years will pass before I get to know them all, their life stories, their dreams. Many years will pass before they become my brothers and sisters. Besides, I probably look just the same in this moment, one of many haunted faces.

“Listen up, kids. My name is Ulysses and I will be responsible for your physical training and, much later, hand to hand combat,” the man says, facing our group. “You all have your reasons to be here today. But you must also understand that I don’t give a damn about them. You’ve all agreed to come here, knowing what awaits you. This is the path you’ve chosen. For me you are all just another batch of kittens I have to change into tigers, and I will do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal. And not all of you will survive that, I’m afraid. Do not expect me to be your nanny, daddy or therapist. Is that clear?”

Silence. Nobody bothers to answer him. As I said, threats are nothing new to us.

“I hope so,” our Teacher continues. “I’m also aware that most of you already have blood on your hands. That’s good. It may be easier for you to adjust. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t advise you to pick fights with older students if you have a choice. It will spare us a lot of paperwork. Now, let’s talk about more practical matters. Do you all have your badges?”

This time he gets a murmur of affirmations and a couple of nods. We are not a talkative bunch, it appears. Ulysses must have realized that too, as he says:

“You need to learn how to properly address your Teachers, but that is a lesson for another day,” he smiles, as if trying to ease the pressure. “Ok, now. Look at your badges. There is a number on each of them, see that? Good. Carve it in your brains. These numbers are who you are from now on. Whatever names you were given, whatever names your parents or other people called you in the past are irrelevant here and you will be severely punished for using them, for thinking about them, understood? This who you are now!”

I take a look at my left arm. There is a black band with a word sixteen embroidered on it. It is a good number, I think, very… numberish. The badge contrasts with the green uniform I am wearing. But I do not have time to really think it through as the Teacher continues his speech:

“However, you don’t have to be too worried! It’s only temporal. For the next few years you will have plenty of occasions to earn a name for yourself. Your brothers and sisters are clever beasts when it comes to that and I’m sure they will come up with something appropriate for you. But that is yet to come. Meanwhile, I have only one thing to tell you before we start our training, kids!” he gives us all a piercing look and this time his grin sends shivers down my spine. ”Welcome at the Academy!”

She stood in the middle of the class with an old fashioned tablet in hand. She tried to look confident and make her voice audible, but it was not so easy for her. There is only so much a girl that did not even hit puberty yet can do to sound confident. But she was not giving up.

“It is folly, and it is cowardice, to cherish hopes like these, to give way to evil c-counsels, to refuse to do anything that you should do…! To listen to the a-advocates of the enemy’s cause…! To fancy that you dwell in so great a city that, w-whatever happens, you will not suffer any harm!” she read.

“Ok, that’s enough Fifteen! You can sit down,” our Teacher interjects.

He is a young man, probably no older than twenty five, but one can hardly tell that. The left side of his face is marked with tens of tiny little scars. It is ironic, as this frightening mask hides even more frightening intelligence. I genuinely like the guy. He is dangerous.

“You did a good job modulating your voice, but you need to work on your stance and stage-fright, Fifteen,” he says. “Stuttering is unforgivable! Remember, and I’m talking to all of you, it does not matter what you’re saying, what matters is the way you’re saying it! Body language, timbre of your voice, gesticulation and so on… These are the most important factors!”

He turns to us from the podium, his wheelchair makes a quiet *buzz* noise. None of us knows what had happened to the Teacher that turned him into a cripple and none of us is brave (or stupid) enough to ask. Whatever it was, it took both of his legs and left him in a state where even current medicine could, at most, only ease the pain. And yet, he is still alive, still training others and serving the Brotherhood the best he can.

“When you’re speaking to a crowd you need to make it simple. We – good guys, they – bad guys. Truth or lies, it doesn’t matter in the slightest as long as it works. You must learn how to play on people’s emotions, on their fears! You may be too young to understand it now, but there may come time when your sharp mind and nimble tongue will be your greatest weapons!”

We all listen attentively. Nothing good can come out of skipping lessons at the Academy.

“For now, we are only practicing speeches of long dead Masters, like Socrates or Kennedy. I do not expect, of course, that you will all achieve their level with rhetoric skills, but you need to familiarize yourself with them nevertheless,” he scans us with his gaze until his eyes finally rest on me. “Come, Sixteen. The stage is yours!”

I stand up and walk to the center while repeating in my head all the info I found in the books I studied with last night. I hope it will help. It takes me a moment to finally climb on the podium and face my peers. Trying not to peek too often at my own tablet I begin reciting my speech:

“I have a dream that one day…!”

“AHHHH!!!” I scream and struggle when Ulysses pulls my head out of the barrel.

The water clogs my nose and I cannot refrain myself from coughing. He made me kneel on the ground and restrained my wrists behind my back so there is no way I could resist. Besides, what a ten year old can do against a grown up man this size? Maybe I could spit in his eye if I got lucky.

He grabs me by my hair, ready to continue the torture.

“Do you know why I am doing this to you?” he asks.

Because you are a fucking sadist, comes to my mind. But I know better than to be a smartass.

“…B-because… I… b-broke the… the rules…” I can only stammer as water runs down my face.

“Wrong.”

Before I think of something else my head lands again in the barrel. This time is even worse; I cannot breath and my lungs burn, but I resist the urge to shout and lose the rest of my precious oxygen.

“UAH..!!! Ha..ha…” Ulysses finally pulls me out again and I start panting.

“You’re a smart boy, think again. I know you weren’t the only one involved in that little theft. So why am I punishing you and not them?” his voice is calm, lecturing.

“Because… because I was… I was the only one who got caught…” I finally answer.

“Precisely,” I cannot see his face, but I know he is pleased. I cast a glance over the rest of my year group standing in a circle and watching my torment. Must be nice to be them. “That should be a lesson for all of you! Being punished has nothing to do with guilt or innocence! Every year tens of thousands of people go to prisons or end up on a death row across the Union, East Federation, Slavic League... How many of them are sentenced just because they were in a wrong place at a wrong time? Because the governments need to boost their statistic? And how many of those that are guilty of worst atrocities walk free? That’s what you need to learn! You won’t be punished for breaking some law, but you will be punished for being stupid enough to get caught!”

Before I can say something to defend myself I get another push at the back of my head and my face lands again in the barrel. This time I do not struggle. I am a fast learner.