Project Achilles

Noah

After hours of riding back to headquarters, we returned with a few minor injuries. Before being treated, we had to ensure that all the protesters arrived at the prison; the rest was for the guards to worry about. As soon as the door was opened, we pulled individuals out of the car. The one I ended up grabbing was a young woman with short black hair, curly hair, who looked to be in her late teens at most. I recognized her by the blood she was covered in, belonging to the man who was eliminated while defying that commander. I bring the prisoner to be processed as I hold her, making sure she won’t escape. “Full name and date of birth,” one of the commanders asked as soon as we reached the table. “Felix Medina, March 6, 2077,” the prisoner responds The name Felix caught me off guard. Did I hear that correctly? The commander chuckles in response, “Very funny, your real name.” “That is my real name, Felix Medina,” the prisoner asserted. My mind instantly registered the case; perhaps this prisoner wasn’t a young woman. The commander looked at him with an expression of frustration, while the prisoner stared back at him, eyes full of fiery defiance. “Ma’am, you expect me to believe that your birth name is Felix,” he said. “We don’t have records at the sanctuary,” the prisoner responded, “you’ll just have to take my word for it.” The commander sighed in resignation before filling out the form, “Take this one away,” he signaled to the guards, before they took the prisoner away. I caught myself staring at him as they took him away. Of course, I always knew transgender people other than myself existed, but something about seeing him in person, in real life. It’s like suddenly the only person that mattered was the young man being dragged away from me. Before I could be caught staring too long, I straightened myself out and then ran back to the transport car to bring more protesters. It didn’t matter anyway. After he was transported to the building’s prison, he was no longer my responsibility; therefore, the chances of seeing him again were slim to none. I wish I could describe this feeling. I have quite an extensive vocabulary, and I scored above all the other Achilles soldiers in all academics. These feelings were something I didn’t know the word for. The rest of the day was the same as always: lunch, training, physical exams, and maybe some leisure time, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. No matter how futile I knew it was gonna be. Days passed, and I was still in the same routine, but my mind was different. I thought back to that moment, to that boy. Felix was his name. Oh, Felix Medina, you are going to be the death of me.

Felix

Once I had been ‘processed’ or whatever the fuck, two guards came in, dragging me out of the entry. I was dragged outside, through cut grass, passing by other guards, soldiers, scientists, and different people who, for some reason, worked in this building. Many of them turned their noses up at me, bruised, my clothes stained by blood and sweat. My hair was matted with the blood of my friend, who was murdered right in front of me. Some of them looked at me with pity, but not the kind of pity you give someone who just witnessed people they love die horrifically and violently, but the kind of pity you look at a stray dog with. One thing’s for certain, I looked so out of place here. The perimeter was surrounded by a tall white wall, guarded by a set of silver gates. Surrounding a set of skyscrapers. I passed by several white marble statues of names that I barely recognized as famous scientists, and some I could tell were Achilles' Soldiers who died on the job. If they build statues for killers, I wonder if they build statues for their victims, too. Eventually, we reach a black metallic building. Every other building looked like some architect’s wet dream. Almost like they were saying, “Look, we’re rich as shit and we own you.” This building was just an oversized metal block, almost as if saying, “If you’re going here, you’re fucked.” We entered the building, and the first thing we were greeted with was a front desk and an elevator. The guard went up to the desk to hand him the papers they were filling out when I got here, before dragging me into the sterile elevator. After we reached the elevator doors opened, and I was dragged through yet another hallway. We reached a door, where I was told to strip and then unceremoniously shoved into a shower. As soon as I got out. A guard came up to me and shoved a dark green uniform in my arms, almost as if telling me to put it on. As I changed into it, I could sense the guard’s eyes trailing down my exposed body. I wanted to hide away. I wondered if they could tell I knew how they were looking at me, but truthfully, they probably knew and either didn’t care or got off on my discomfort. We reached a set of double doors, and that’s when I was greeted by a court full of other prisoners. All eyes were on me and all the other protesters who were being dragged in front of and behind me. Eventually, they brought me to a large metal door with a small keypad next to it. I watched as they input a code and then scanned an ID. The door opened, revealing a dark gray cell with a stone that made up a sad excuse for a bed. I was then roughly shoved inside, “I’ll come get you come dinner time. In the meantime, acquaint yourself with your new home,” the guard said before he walked out the door, leaving me with almost complete darkness except for one tiny light. I stumbled into my bed, the mattress was hard as shit, and the air inside was biting cold. The kind that makes you wish you had several layers of extra skin. The only thing that protected me from the unforgiving temperature of my cell was my uniform, the thin, sad blanket that rested on my bed. I sat on my new bed, asking myself how I could’ve possibly gotten to this point. This morning, I woke up on the hardwood floor of the community hall. My friends were still alive, my family was still alive. Only two months before my friends and I went to the lake, and then we went to see a punk show, I wasn’t perfect, but it was home… Home… I think back to the Sanctuary, the home I was forced to watch get torn to the ground. I think back to those dirt roads I walked down. To Oscar’s clinic, where he taught me how to make medicine out of herbs and mushrooms. Where I learned how to take care of injuries on both animals and humans. I thought back to the fields I’d walk past every day. Fields that grew corn, oranges, and all kinds of crops. How those flying little fuckers (as I like to call them) would be spraying water and fertilizer down at the crops controlled by a person nearby, and powered by that solar panel on top of it. I remembered the lake my friends and I would go down, where we’d swim and play Marco Polo, and sometimes just float around. I thought back to the library, to the greenhouse, to the amphitheater. Maybe Oscar and Celes had the right idea. Most likely, they’re still alive. I wonder if they’ve heard about what happened, if they know Milo’s effort to a peaceful protest went wrong in the worst way possible. I thought back to the two friends I could save. I was standing right next to Eric when he got up to get the gun. I had plenty of time to stop him; maybe if I had, he would’ve been alive. Maybe if I hadn’t been so frozen in shock, I could’ve held him back. Instead, I let a man watch his son die. I think back to that argument between Milo and Tony. Maybe if we had listened to Tony, everyone else would’ve been alive; we would’ve still lost our home, but at least they’d still be alive. My thoughts continued like a domino track till all I could do was hug my knees to my chest and cry. A few minutes later, the guard opened the door for me, letting me out of my cell. I walked into the food court, where in the crowd I saw Maya looking around like she was scared. As soon as she spotted me, a look of relief washed over her face before she ran to me, throwing her arms around me, as she sobbed into my shoulder. “Felix, thank god you’re okay,” she said. I hugged her back just as close, as if scared that she’ll be gone the second I let go. Eventually, we let go of finding a nearby table to sit at, and we keep to ourselves. “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again.” Maya said, “For a second I thought I was gonna have to lose you too.” “Roger that,” I chuckled. There was a quick moment of silence between the two of us. “So what now?” she asks immediately, recatching my attention. “Milo’s attempts to fight back failed miserably, and now we’re in jail.” “Hey, we’ll be fine,” I said, not sure I was believing it myself, “we’re gonna break out of this shit hole, and then we’re gonna find the Sanctuary in New Mexico, and they can’t catch us there.” “Would you keep fucking your voice down when you talk like that?!” Maya exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “Look, we just need a plan,” I whispered, aware of all eyes that could be on us. “What we need to do is find Tony,” Maya said. “he was Milo’s second hand. If anyone will help us figure out a solution, it’s him,” she then pushed my forgotten tray closer to me. I looked down at my tray. I had a small plate of beans and rice, a small plate of shredded chicken, and a carton of milk. “Now eat up, you can’t have any plan if you starve to death.” The food was a fucking joke; it was bland and tasteless, and I was still hungry even after I ate. The only good thing about it was that it made me think about Milo’s caldo de pollo. A couple of minutes later, Tony finds us, and we wave him down. “Am I glad to see your faces?” he says, “You kids doing okay?” “We’re hanging in there,” I answer, “let’s go talk somewhere else.” We all met up at my cell, the only place I know where there are no cameras. “Alright, so the good news is, this place is for political prisoners, so thankfully we’re not locked up with rapists and murderers,” Tony starts, at least not among the prisoners, I think to myself, “the bad news is I don’t think we’re getting a trial.” “So we break out,” Maya answers, “then we run to the New Mexico Sanctuary, they can’t catch us cause it’s still protected by the organization, and it’s on US soil.” “It ain’t that easy, kid,” Tony responds, “35 of us got arrested today.” he explains, “A good chunk of those people are sick, in this place I doubt they got much time left, a mass breakout just isn’t gonna happen without us getting caught or having to leave some people behind.” “Then one of us breaks out,” I respond, all three are looking at me now. “Once that person is free, the next person breaks out after five days, and so on, then we’ll all meet at the safe house on the border, and together we’ll go to the Sanctuary in New Mexico,” I say Tony looks at me skeptically, almost like he’s trying to decide if it’s a good plan, or the stupidest shit he’s heard all day. “Look, Tony, we’re already not getting a trial,” I start, “which means either we’re here to rot or we’re just waiting to get executed. Either way, what do we have to lose? The way I see it, either we stay here and hopefully don't die, or we break out and hopefully don't die. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather hopefully not die while being free,” I finish. Tony sighs in resignation, “And which one of us is gonna be the sacrificial lamb that tries to break out first?” “I’ll do it,” I answer quickly. “Of course you will,” Tony sighs, “you’re not breaking out tonight, alright?” he says, holding out a stern finger, “you will plan this out for at least five days and then you’ll try and break out.” I nod in response. For the first time all day, I feel some sliver of hope.