"The People are a many-headed beast"

—John Dryden

The day feels particularly heavy; not because we were filled with duties, but because there is a certain tension throughout the city regarding a few topics that have begun to stir up trouble. The place where my mother works is a huge complex of buildings and skyscrapers that enclose the main government institutions: the Ministry of Science and Development, which has the name Torclon on its facade, and that's how they like to be called; the Ministry of Labor; the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Political Relations, which has the simple name MOC on its facade, and that's how we're used to calling them; it is in MOC where the administrative power of the Capital District, where we are located, and the base cities, which are also controlled by the same government, is held.

Egan Roman is the current leader of the Great Nation, our country. He holds all the political power of the base cities and the Capital District; although there are representatives from various sectors of the population who have a voice and vote in the governance of the cities, this is only a facade that MOC has imposed. My mother, who works in Torclon, the ministry closest to MOC, has entrusted this information to my brother and me. There are no such representatives, but that is what people believe.

When I leave the building, after the brief visit to my mother, I can see my brother in the distance, walking with his particular eagerness, even though he doesn't have any real reason to be. In the central square, some groups of people can be seen making flyers on the ground, as today the District University has called for a march in front of the government buildings due to the increase in tuition fees. It is the first time in decades that this value has been raised, and despite having justified causes, for some people, it is difficult to adapt to the new norm.

It is estimated that the marches will become violent at some point, which is why security has begun to reinforce the perimeters close to the government center. Currently, the streets of the city are full of people; some watching the protesters arrive little by little; others, doing their daily chores with no intention of being part of the protests.

When my brother and I walk by, we get some curious looks from passersby. This is common for us, as the way we are dressed indicates our position in this society. The black uniform is indicative of a specific unit in the military: the RCS, Riot Control Squadron. We are responsible for protecting the civilian population in case a violent disturbance starts in the city. But this hasn't happened in decades; the last time the RCS had to leave the barracks in operation mode was ninety years ago, during the humanoid rebellion. Nowadays, everything remains calm as we are used to, and wearing the uniform is just a sign of belonging to the unit. Just in case, our superiors say.

That's why if you want to be part of the army, you must first belong to the RCS. We are the most useless unit nowadays; our training is carried out with the sole purpose of being promoted to a different unit. Despite this, like any member of the military, the civilian population shows us respect. A soldier's training in the RCS typically takes five years. For five years, we train six days a week, twelve hours a day.

Today, however, is an exceptional day. For the first time in decades, we will have a job. When I walk through the central square, I see a superior officer, dressed in his particular camouflaged uniform, and I can't help feeling a certain envy. Martin and I have been part of the RCS since he was 17 years old and I was 16. Four years have passed since then. However, I know that something is coming, and I got that information from my mother. An operation is being planned that my unit will carry out, and every detail is in the folder Martin is holding. Why will the lowest unit of the entire military carry out this operation? Besides being well trained, we are also the most inactive unit. What better way to carry out an ultra-secret operation than to entrust it to those who never have work, after all? The others at least work guarding the border, we limit ourselves to training without a purpose. I suppose the envelope my mother sent must be related to the protests and, therefore, the operation too.

Nevertheless, I manage to distract my elusive mind towards small details that have nothing to do with the inefficient protests. I must admit that my life has not taken many abrupt and interesting turns, and there is a possibility that I have become measurably obsessed with my military life. If I were given the opportunity to choose which path to take for the rest of my days, my reaction would not be hesitant: the army. I wouldn't even consider the possibility of crossing the border, towards those cold and deserted mountains, to end my life as a hermit. I know many would choose that path, but they never think about the possible consequences that it could bring them.

They say that beyond the border, which is strictly guarded, the roads begin to deteriorate until there is nothing but dirt. The mountains are dangerous because within them, strategically hidden, are the dissident cities, where the humanoids that once served our society have ended up. Soulless beings, who despite having human appearance and bodily reactions that could be assimilated to those of a living person, are nothing more than simple machines manufactured in the past to serve in war.

When the world used to be larger, there were two factions that were in constant political and military tension: the Western and the Eastern; Russia and its allies, and the United States and its allies. Little is known today about their history, as all sources of information were destroyed at the end of the war. What we do know, however, is something that has remained as a reminder of the rebellion that can lead to the destruction of a people: our Western society fabricated hundreds of thousands of machines with abilities that surpassed any human force. Robots, androids, humanoids, are many of the names they were given at the time; they were created by Torclon, which was and continues to be the largest scientific center in the world. Programmed for war and destruction, these humanoids defeated the Easterners. Although the world's population was reduced by ninety percent, we won the war, and all thanks to Torclon's invention.

However, the taste of sweet victory would slowly turn bitter, as the scientists knew little about the nuances of these soulless machines, despite having created them themselves. Somehow, the humanoids that survived the war obtained a kind of consciousness that went beyond the control of the scientists. They demanded space for their lives in the Capital District; they demanded rights that did not belong to them, and even supposed that they could access political positions. After negative responses, the only reaction of the humanoids was violence. After all, that was what they were made for. Despite endless attempts at deactivation by Torclon, everything led to a rebellion, and the humanoids were no longer on the side of humans: they became Dissidents. They fled through the mountains and created dissident cities, of which we hear very little about today.

The irony is that the political and military tensions that existed between West and East in the past are now reflected in a new reality: Capital District versus Dissident Cities. These tensions are only talked about in government headquarters, although they are more assumptions than anything else, since we really haven't heard from them in a long time. My mother doesn't talk to us about it, but Martin and I are elusive enough to listen to her meetings without her realizing we are there.

My reverie is interrupted by a little girl in a blue dress running in front of me, almost colliding with my legs. My reflexes were enough to stop me in time and observe that the little one is holding a pamphlet against the government, supporting the student marches at the District University. I can't help but sigh at the level of manipulation that whoever her parents are have over this girl, since she doesn't even understand what the protests are about, much less have the capacity to understand the government plan behind the tuition hikes. Our superiors at RCS have warned us about the violent attitudes that protesters usually bring with them, and under no circumstances is it appropriate to take children to a march.

I set aside those thoughts when I realize my brother is far ahead of me, and then I have to start running to catch up with him. What I enjoy most about walking around the city at this time, almost at dusk, is the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the food establishments. Despite not enjoying its taste, the smell of coffee brings me a certain calm, especially if it's accompanied by a good cool breeze. Winter is approaching and its manifestations can already be felt: the sky is grayer than usual; the trees begin to lose all their leaves, and the breeze is colder than in previous months. The good thing is that this weather manages to clear your mind.

As we advance on our way, the streets begin to feel more deserted. The most activity is found in the center, and only those who have less money live in the suburbs, near the outskirts; usually they are illiterate, that is, those who could not go to university or be part of the army.

The military compound is located at the entrance of the city, beyond the suburbs. Naturally, no one can enter or leave the city without first passing through the military checkpoint. When I arrive at the main barracks, I am out of breath, as my mind has been focused on other thoughts instead of regulating my own breathing.

Martin has already handed over the folder that my mother sent to Sergen, our superior. The gray-haired man looks at me with a frown when I approach them, all covered in sweat, since I chased my brother for almost seven blocks.

"Did any of you take a look at the information?" he inquires threateningly.

I look at Martin with a raised eyebrow. He shakes his head vehemently, with the typical calm expression he always wears. I do the same and look around: dozens and dozens of soldiers are getting ready to head towards the Central Square, as the protests are about to start.

"Get ready. When you're done, meet me in the back barracks," Sergen says, taking a cigarette to his mouth before leaving us alone.

Martin and I start walking towards the preparation room, where we strip off our daily uniforms and put on the special operations ones. As I take off my uniform, the cold air hits my arms, as I'm only wearing a basic blouse that I always use to try and condition myself during training. I put on the heavier black jacket that reads RCS in small, silver letters on its arms, accompanied by the government symbol, a silver circle with a clenched and raised hand. I change my boots for heavier ones and sheath my weapons on my belt. Then, I take my M4 carbine and cross it on my back, before tying my hair up into a high ponytail.

My hair is wavy and brown, and I often struggle to keep it in place. If I knew how to style it like the women in the army's ceremonial unit, I might do it, but it seems like a lot of work. Therefore, a high ponytail is always the best option.

I'm ready before Martin, who always takes a good amount of time to change his uniform. In fact, he always takes time with everything; his excessive calmness can be overwhelming for me.

"How about you hurry up?" I ask.

"How about you wait?" he quickly responds, looking up at me from the floor where he's patiently tying his laces.

I sigh, looking at my fellow soldiers. One detail strikes me as surprising, and that is that most of those who belong to my unit are heading towards the exit instead of going to the back barracks where Sergen is waiting for us. I decide not to pay much attention to them and when Martin is finally ready, we head to the designated meeting point.

Upon arrival, we are surprised to find that there are only eight of us in this room, where Sergen stares at us as we enter one by one. He has my mother's folder in his right hand and holds a small box of cigars in his left. That's why his black eyes always seem bloodshot, as I'm more than sure that those cigars contain something more than nicotine. He only sleeps two hours a day and yet he seems more awake than all of us put together.

When we enter, he closes the door and makes us form a horizontal line, facing forward. Next to me, Luke Thomas anxiously taps his palm against his leg, unable to hide the excitement he feels for our first important mission. They have painted the protests as violent acts that require RCS intervention and, considering that our only job is to train and in other cases, guard the border, government headquarters, and deserted streets of the District, having our first job truly related to the RCS is in itself an exciting challenge.

However, Sergen remains silent for twenty long minutes.

"The others have already left, commander," Luke points out, interrupting the silence that only Sergen can break.

The man looks at him with a deadly stare, and Luke suddenly stiffens like a board. No one else dares to speak a word, and I won't be the exception. My brother begins to show a hint of impatience, something that never happens with him, and I can see that everyone else is starting to feel it too.

"I've called you here because you have a different task today," he explains in a loud voice.

I think I heard a sigh of disappointment from one of my comrades. I also feel a bit let down, as I don't understand why he has asked us to wear our special operations uniform.

Behind Sergen, a large screen begins to play the District City anthem, and now it shows the arrival of RCS to the Central Plaza, where a crowd of around two hundred students is chanting slogans and raising pamphlets in front of government buildings. All RCS units are already strategically placed around the plaza and nearby streets, but we are still locked up here.

However, the disappointment we feel as a group is overshadowed by the news from our superior. Sergen raises the folder in view of all and begins to speak slower than usual:

"Today, a special mission has been assigned, and you have been carefully chosen for it. The instructions from Torclon and MOC are contained in this folder, instructions that we must follow to the letter."

He places his hands behind his back and begins to walk in harmony, passing in front of each of us. In the background, the voices of hundreds of protesters reach our ears through the screen.

"For the past few months, we have been receiving notifications from some of the base cities indicating the presence of armed dissidents in the surrounding areas, clearly obstructing the security of traders while transporting goods from one city to another. This explicitly means that the supply of goods between cities has been affected. Additionally, a week ago, a fish trader from the East Coast disappeared without a trace while heading to the southern cities for his monthly exchange.

Upon hearing the word "dissidents," we cannot help but give each other looks. We only hear them being talked about on the streets; for decades, we have not received any relevant news from the government that brings any new information about the dissidents. They are hidden, far from any city, but now it seems they are approaching humans for some reason, something that has not happened since the rebellion.

"The disruption to public security of our citizens and the disappearance of one of them is a clear threat from their side. We know that there have been constant military tensions for years, as we have received letters from our explorers indicating the clandestine manufacture of weapons in some points of the mountainous areas; however, these points disappear within days and have not been considered sufficient to be taken as a direct threat. But now they are approaching, and that is why Torclon requires immediate intervention."

He raises the folder in the air again, and all our eyes are directed towards it. I inevitably think of my mother, and then Martin and I look at each other with confusion. Since when has my mother and her team been planning an intervention in the dissidents? She is the director of Torclon, but we never thought much about her current duties, as we do not have many clues about them.

"Torclon has been working for seven years to find a way to deactivate dissidents en masse and render them completely obsolete," Sergen says. "If those machines think about attacking us, don't doubt it: they would destroy us without a second thought. That's what they're designed for; their only function on this planet is destruction. And since the humanoid rebellion, their sole purpose has been the extinction of the human race."

That's the myth that's heard everywhere. The citizens of the District are in a constant state of alarm, as the first news of the day on the government channel, the only channel that exists, is a propaganda piece from MOC showing the atrocities that dissidents can commit, including the extinction of the entire human race. They warn that even if they remain silent, they were, are, and will always be our greatest threat. "Our creation rose up against its creators," is the first sentence we hear in the day, and the last one we hear before going to sleep.

When Sergen mentions that Torclon has been working for years on a way to deactivate the humanoids, then I think of the mysterious elevator in the great white building of Torclon, which my mother always accesses. All I know is that few people can enter, and that elevator goes down, not up. I feel Martin's gaze on me again, and our eyes meet. Does what is being done at Torclon's underground levels have anything to do with the dissidents? Is that where they're developing the method to deactivate the humanoids?

"But as with every invention in the scientific world, experimentation is required, and experimentation requires a specimen. Guess what? Torclon has the method, but not the specimen."

Then my eyes widen, and suddenly the atmosphere becomes tense. I think I know what they want from us.

"You're not thinking..." interrupts a girl with strong features and brown skin. Her sentence is cut off halfway as her voice starts to tremble.

Sergen raises an eyebrow, looking at each of us as if we were the weakest beings on the planet.

"We chose you because you're the strongest, but your looks only show fear. What are you afraid of?"

"It's a suicide mission!" exclaims Andrew, a black-haired boy who looks skinny at first glance but is stronger than many of us.

A loud laughter coming from our superior floods the room. His laughter mixes with the screams coming from the screen, where out of nowhere, the crowd has gone mad and started throwing stones at the RCS units. It's dark now and the scenes on the screen are confusing, only the orange hue of the environment can be seen due to the fire-lit torches some protesters are carrying, and a bunch of people running in front of the camera. Then, the RCS opens fire as the crowd faces them, but I can't pay much attention, as the deep voice of my superior takes over the room again.

"You are the best-trained soldiers in the army. Wanted real work? There you have it! We've detected a dissident city fifteen kilometers from here, well hidden from the sight of curious people. Your mission, you seven, is simple: the city has an old system of underground tunnels that extends three kilometers from the main entrance. In the early morning, there are only a couple of dissidents guarding the entrance. The streets are lonely at that time, as we've spied on them from the air for three months straight and know their routine well."

He takes a small pistol from a nearby table. This pistol is one I had never seen before in my life, as it doesn't seem to have room for cartridges. It only has the symbol of the government. Sergen pulls the trigger, but not a single bullet comes out of the gun.

"All you have to do, you scared little children, is take out one of the guards, either at the entrance or on the streets, bring this small device to their head, and activate the trigger. Don't ask me how it works, because I'm not a scientist, but this thing will deactivate the humanoid for three hours. Bring the humanoid back. That's it."

"And how do you know it works? You don't have any dissidents to experiment on! That's why we're going in the first place!" asks a blonde girl whose name I don't remember.

"This thing is what they used in the war when the humanoids were newly created, to temporarily deactivate anyone who showed malfunctions. You can go to Torclon headquarters yourself and ask them how it works, but judging by how the protests are going, I don't think you'll have much success in getting there, Amanda, will you?"

Amanda bows her head and remains silent.

"Tom will be the commander of this mission," he points to a tall, shaved-headed boy who has a large abstract tattoo on his neck. He stands in front, next to Sergen. "He knows every detail of the plan, the map, and your only mission is to follow his instructions. Any of you think you can't do it?"

Silence reigns in the barracks. I choose not to show any expression, but inside, I can't deny that I'm afraid.

"Any of you think you can't do it?" he repeats, raising his voice considerably.

"As you order, sir!" we all shout in unison.

"You better be here by the first ray of sunlight," he warns, nodding his head at Tom. "For the Great Nation!"

Tom starts walking towards the exit, and we all instinctively follow him. Martin and I stay at the back on the way to the exit, and only the cold wind hitting our faces as we leave makes us react.

As we wait for everyone to board the armored truck, my brother places his hand on my shoulder.

"We would need three of us to overpower a single humanoid," he whispers.

I nod, despite already knowing this, as it is what we are taught from the first day of training. And then my heart begins to race as it is my turn to climb onto the truck. There is no turning back now, and I am aware that we could die tonight.

******

Hello there! I hope you're enjoying the book so far :)

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This book will be updated constantly, since it is already finished (actually, book 2 is also finished) so you don't have to wait long for new chapters.

Have a great day!