Project Achilles

Noah There was nothing remarkable about how the day started. I woke up, got dressed, and we ate breakfast. We then trained for a while, and then we gathered for a special assembly. Every Achilles Soldier, aged 6 to 30 years old, was present, separated by generations. The CEO began with a grand speech, much like the one at the presentation: “Fifty years ago, Michael Hastrod, the founder of Hastrod Industries, had a vision to create a company that would focus on elevating humanity to its next form of evolution. Texas seceded from the United States, thus creating the New Republic of Texas, and Hastrod Industries was appointed as the ruling company.” My brain skipped the history lesson before he got to the point. “In nine months, we will be welcoming a new generation of Achilles Soldiers.” Everyone in that room applauded, but not all the same way. The cheers from Generations 22 to 25 were genuine; at that age, a new Generation is still something to celebrate. Everyone else cheered out of politeness, but their applause was laced with bitterness because a new kid entering the ranks means new competition. “Which also means that Generation 22 will be entering the ranking system, and Generation 14 will be starting their field work.” The room erupted into yet another applause. I can’t help but see myself in those kids. I remember when my generation first entered the ranking system. Back then, ranking first was an accomplishment; as you get older, it becomes a target on your back. The CEO went through all the rankings of each generation, then finished the general rankings, the same bitter eyes staring at me when I stood in the middle of everyone else who was part of the top 5. “Before we finish this assembly with a special announcement, I would like to recognize Jonathan of Generation 6.” From the crowd, Jonathan stood up he was tall, buff, and at 25, old enough for the title of commander. As he made his way to the stage, all of Generation 6 stared at him with a mix of admiration and resentment as he walked up there. “Jonathan has completed his commander test, and from now forward, he’ll be known as Commander Jonathan.” As the crowd gave their applause, the black badge on Commander Jonathan’s uniform was swapped for a golden one, as he returned to his seat, all the other commanders looked at him like they were looking at their new opponent. “Now, finally, we can move on to an important announcement,” The CEO said as he clapped his hands together, approaching center stage, the screen behind him projecting a map, “Hastrod Industries has acquired some land in the south .” The image zooms in on a circle inside a forest area. Inside the circle, I notice a dot titled, The sanctuary. “In this 56-acre land, Hastrod Industries will build its very first space station, and soon enough, Texas will have its first space colony.” A roar of excitement came through the audience. We knew exactly where this was going. “It is estimated that our space station will take approximately three years to complete. In the meantime, we will be deciding which lucky soldiers will be chosen for our space exploration program,” he announced. Suddenly, people started looking at each other; I could catch Evan staring directly at me like I was a challenge. This is what it was, another challenge, another competition, another thing to fight to be chosen for. Once the assembly was over, everyone returned to training. I did a few rounds on the punching bag before I decided it was time to take a break. A guard approached me. Despite my exhaustion, I immediately stood up, my stance straight and respectful. “Your presence has been requested at the infirmary,” the guard says. I duck my head. In a quick bow, before I follow him to where he needs to take me. We reach the infirmary, and the nurse is sitting at the desk, holding a clipboard with my paperwork. “Dr. Phillips told me you have expressed interest in the space exploration program.” She says, I haven’t even said anything about it, but if Phillips thinks I should, who am I to say otherwise? “We just need to run some physical tests, just to see if you’re fit for it.” I sat down at the examination table, pulling up my shirt, and the nurse approached me, placing her cold stethoscope on my chest just above where my top surgery scars rest. “Your heart rate seems fine,” she says, “Now let me take your blood pressure.” I put my arm inside the band, and it tightens around my arm uncomfortably before returning to its normal position. “120/79,” she writes it in the clipboard. We move on to height and weight: “Height 67 inches, weight 135 lbs,” she announces, “BMI 20.4, now let’s do your x-ray.” Once all the tests are done, I am once again seated at the examination table awaiting results. “So, according to your last blood test, as well as today’s results, you are at optimal health,” she says. “It says on your record that you recently underwent bottom surgery. Could I see how that’s been healing?” I hesitantly pulled down my pants, reminding myself that she’s not Carl. “It seems to be healing well.” She tried to get a closer look, not caring to ask if I was okay, “Have you experienced any pain down there, any sensitivity?” “Just some numbness,” I try my best to repress my anxiety. I see her write down in her notebook, “You can put your pants back on.” I felt relief wash over me once she told me that. “Well, everything seems to be fine; however, we do recommend that those who wish to participate in the space exploration program get their organic lungs changed with bionics, so that it’s easier to stay in space long term.” The nurse explained, “However, it is a very complex surgery, but if you continue with your current diet and exercise regimen, you should be eligible for the surgery in about five months. I’ll schedule your next exam for five months from now. Let me know if you change your mind about the space program,” she says, “you return to your normal activities.” Once I was out of view, I looked down at my shaking hands, I folded them behind my back, and took a deep breath before I walked back to the training hall. Felix The next day, when I’m back at the clinic, I see Oscar sitting at the table as he stares at a piece of paper in his hands. “D-did you forget to pay rent for this place?” I ask, getting the worst-case scenario out of the way first. He doesn’t answer any of my questions; instead, he turns to me and attempts to hide his panic with a smile. “Why don’t you take the day off, Felix?” he said, “Don’t worry about helping me today, I’ll manage all on my own.” I nodded before “Alright, I’ll be at my house if you need anything,” I replied before I started walking out. “Take care, Oscar.” As I walked home, I stopped just as I noticed a truck parked on the dirt road. This truck was nothing like the ones I was used to seeing here at The Sanctuary, the humble ones that were created for working and carrying shit. This truck was black and sleek; the light reflected off its body, contrasting with every dirt-covered vehicle that resided in our community. Clearly made for the purpose of transporting soldiers and scaring the shit out of people. As I got a closer look, I saw letters on the side that spelled ‘Hastrod Industries’. People in uniform were giving out pieces of paper that looked exactly like the one that Oscar was holding. One of them stopped me, “This is an important notice,” he said as he handed me a piece of paper, “It is imperative that you read it in its entirety.”. I took the paper in my hands and started reading as I kept walking.

Attention Resident

Hastrod Industries has acquired 56 acres of land in the Southern Region.

If you are receiving this notice, we ask that you evacuate this land in order to make space for our space exploration program.

Listed below are potential places for relocation, which will gladly provide housing accommodations along with employment.

We ask that all residents be evacuated by May 15, 2095.

I read the words carefully to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. No way this is happening! They can’t do this right? We’ve been here since Texas was still a part of the US. The organization exists specifically to protect our home. They can’t do that, can they?! I try to think of my future, what it’ll be like to wake up in a new place, a new land to call home. To know the place I grew up in would be torn to the ground just to build a fucking spaceship. I crumple the paper in my hand and race back home. When I got to the house, I rushed the door open, absentmindedly throwing my messenger back to the floor when I got there. Milo was sitting at the dining room table nursing his morning coffee. “They’re kicking us out!” I say as I uncrumple the notice in my hands before placing it on the table for Milo to read. Milo chuckled in response before holding up his own copy, “Tell me something I don’t know.” I sat down trying to process everything that had happened in the last few minutes, everything thought came one after the other like a domino effect. “How can they do this? Isn’t this place protected?” I voiced my first thought “Not anymore, apparently, they bought the land,” Milo responded. “The organization wouldn’t sell us like that, would they?” I asked, still reeling from the news. Milo sighed in response, “Knowing Hastrod, they probably didn’t give them much of a choice.” I took a second to collect my thoughts before daring to talk again, “They can’t fucking do this to us, this is our home, they can’t kick us out just cause they fucking feel like it!” “Hey, Felix, calm down!” Milo said before I took another deep breath, “They’re not gonna kick us out, there’s a meeting at the amphitheater tonight, we’ll all figure out what to do together,” he assured. “Then I’m coming to this meeting,” I said, “this is our home, I’ll be damned if they take it away.” “Felix, this is gonna be your first meeting. Are you sure about this?” Milo asked. “I’m an adult now,” I respond, “that means I get a say in what goes on around here, right? Let’s go save our home.” A couple of hours later, Milo and I arrived at the meeting full of people talking and screaming over each other, all the reason they were pissed about the notice. Oscar climbed up on stage. “Everyone, calm down. I understand why you’re upset, but we shouldn’t panic,” he was briefly interrupted by a woman in the audience. “‘We shouldn’t panic’, Doctor?” I instantly recognized her as Celes’s mom, “My family has been living in The Sanctuary since it was first established sixty years ago. We’re hunters. How do you expect us to make a living outside of The Sanctuary? On top of that, this space station’s rockets are gonna scare away all the game!” She looked around at everyone. “The organization was supposed to protect us,” an older man in the audience bemoaned, “now we lost our home, what are we supposed to do?” “Everybody, calm down!” Oscar insisted, “I am just as upset about this as all of you, but panicking will not serve us any good. There are plenty of options we can take, in the notice that there is a list of plenty of neighborhoods owned and protected by Hastrod Industries, promising free accommodations in exchange for work, that’s one option, and I know many of you are too proud for that, but there is another option in the US. In the US, there are three sanctuaries, all of which are still owned and protected by the organization. It may not be the land you grew up in, but at least we’ll keep our way of life.” “There is a third option.” Milo spoke up before he got up on stage, “This place is our home, our birthright, my brother and I were born here, our parents lived and died on this land, our ancestors established this place sixty years ago so that their children could have a safe space to live, and in their name we must protect this land.” the room was quite as he spoke all eye laid on Milo “I understand some of you have children, which is why I will not blame you for evacuating, if you chose your safety and the safety of your family there is no shame in that, but this is our home and I’m not gonna let them take it away without a fight! So if you have the means to fight, then join me, let’s see them try and take us all down together.” Once the meeting was over, the air had become palpable, and in that moment, I decided where I was standing.