Felix sank onto his splintery wooden bench amid a hundred other recruits in the dimly lit theatre. Overhead fluorescents hissed and flickered, casting uneven light over rows of identical grey uniforms. On the stage, Lieutenant Tara stood as still and crisp as her spotless jacket.
"Today we test allied and enemy flags," she announced, her voice swallowing the cracked plaster walls. The screen behind her sprang to life with three vivid blue maple leaves on a white field. Fox in the front row shot up his hand. "Intermarium—our own flag," he declared, flashing a triumphant grin at Felix. The screen flickered to the next image. When Tara repeated the question, Felix blurted "Cascadian," and received a nod of approval.
The next flag appeared—a bright orange square perfectly centered against a deep blue background, simple yet striking in its geometric precision.
"Ossory," Kip answered from the back row, his voice barely audible above the theatre's ventilation system.
Felix scratched his head, his scalp itching beneath his regulation haircut, as the fourth flag appeared. He stared at the horizontal bands of forest green and snow white, focusing on the eight white stars arranged in a perfect circle on the green portion. The stars seemed to mock him with their unfamiliarity. Around him, he could hear the scratching of pencils on paper as other trainees frantically scribbled notes, but his mind remained blank.
Tara's sharp brown eyes scanned the room, moving from face to face like a predator searching for weakness. The silence stretched on, broken only by the occasional cough or shuffle of feet. After two long minutes that felt like hours, she asked, "Does anyone know the answer to this one?"
"Technate?" Fox shouted.
Tara shook her head. "No. Technate flag is the half blue circle against a green background."
Nova entered the room. "Jayland."
Tara smiled. "Very good. I thought nobody would be able to answer me, correctly. Class is dismissed."
The sound of a hundred chairs scraping against the floor filled the air as everyone rose simultaneously. Felix weaved through the crowd of departing trainees, their conversations creating a buzz of excitement and relief. He caught up to Nova near the exit, where afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass doors.
"How did you know the answer? The whole class was stumped!"
Nova smiled. "I've read a lot of histories books."
Felix followed his friends down the concrete steps and across the dusty courtyard to the outdoor training center. The facility sprawled before them—obstacle courses, climbing walls, and firing ranges surrounded by chain-link fencing topped with razor wire. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, and Felix could already feel sweat beginning to form under his collar.
Sgt. Seth stood waiting, his muscular frame casting a long shadow across the training ground. His uniform was perfectly pressed despite the heat, and his steel-gray hair was cropped so short it was almost invisible. The silver whistle hanging from his chain necklace caught the sunlight as he moved.
"Comrades," he barked, his voice carrying across the entire training area, "you're required to crawl underneath the wire fence and stay low to the ground. Keep your bellies in the dirt! Then you must climb the wall using only the designated handholds. Anyone who fails to follow instructions will repeat the exercise until they get it right!"
He raised the whistle to his lips and blew a sharp, piercing blast causing Felix's ears to ring.
Felix dropped to his hands and knees, feeling the rough dirt and gravel bite into his palms. He crawled behind Fox, who moved with practiced efficiency, his body barely clearing the razor wire above. Felix could taste dust in his mouth and feel small rocks digging into his forearms as he struggled to keep pace.
When Felix finally cleared the wire obstacle, he stood up too quickly, eager to escape the uncomfortable position. That's when he felt the cool air hit his exposed skin.
Sgt. Seth's heavy boots crunched across the gravel as he approached, his face twisted with disgust. "Sixteen!" he shouted. "Why is your ass hanging out?"
His brown eyes were cold and unforgiving, the kind of stare that made Felix feel like an insect under a magnifying glass.
"What?" Felix gasped, his voice cracking with embarrassment. He reached behind himself, patting his bottom frantically until his fingers found the large tear in his pants.
The fabric had ripped from the waistband down to his thigh, leaving him essentially exposed. His cheeks turned as pink as a flamingo, and he could feel the heat radiating from his face.
Nova giggled beside Kip next to a gnarled oak tree, her hand covering her mouth but her eyes dancing with amusement. Several other trainees had stopped their exercises to stare, some snickering behind their hands.
"I accidentally ripped my pants! Damn it!" Felix kicked at the dirt, sending up a small cloud of dust that made him cough.
"Why didn't you follow instructions and stay low to the ground?" Sgt. Seth demanded, his jaw clenched so tightly Felix could see the muscles jumping beneath his skin.
"I'm trying my best at the drills!" Felix snapped back, his embarrassment giving way to frustration. "It's not like I have a choice if I want to be here! All my other clothes are dirty! There are too many trainees needing to use the laundry machines all at once! I can't get a load in! The machines are broken half the time, and when they work, there's a three-hour wait!"
"Felix, you can borrow my clothes," came a voice from behind him. Felix turned to see Fox approaching, his expression sympathetic rather than mocking.
"Are you sure?" Felix asked, his lip quivering with a mixture of gratitude and residual embarrassment.
Fox nodded firmly. "Yes, I don't mind sharing. We look out for each other here." He turned to face Sgt. Seth's intimidating blue eyes. "Can we be excused to go to the lockers?"
Sgt. Seth checked his military-issue watch and scowled. "You have ten minutes! Run, because you don't have time to waste! The rest of you, continue with the wall climb!"
Fox and Felix returned to the locker room. Fox unlocked his locker and handed Felix clothing. Felix changed into Fox's clothing and smiled. "I can't thank you enough for helping me."
"What are friends for?" Fox smiled. "Let's go back, before we get in trouble for being late."
Felix groaned, he was tired and not in the mood for running.
Several hours passed; Felix entered the gymnasium for the voting booth.
Every four years, Intermarium held its national election. Mandatory for everyone above the age of eighteen to vote—failure to participate resulted in immediate imprisonment for "civic negligence."
Hours later, Felix stood before voting booth 47 in the gymnasium. Every citizen over eighteen was required to vote—"civic negligence" meant prison.
He approached his assigned booth, number 47, and found a simple ballot waiting for him. The paper was thick and official-looking, with the national seal embossed at the top. Felix picked up the provided pencil and read the single question printed in bold letters:
"Do you support Lolita Evergreen continuing as Supreme Ruler of Intermarium?"
Below were two circles: "YES" and "NO."
Felix stared at the ballot, his pencil hovering over the paper. He filled in the "YES" circle with a dark, heavy mark and dropped the ballot into the metal collection box with a hollow thud. He sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the meaningless gesture.
What the hell is the point of this election when you're only given two choices? he thought bitterly. You can circle yes for Lolita Evergreen as Supreme Ruler of Intermarium, or you can circle no. However, if you circle 'no,' that means you're going to prison for treason. That's like giving a child the option of going to a candy store or going to the dentist—except the dentist has a gun.
As he left the gymnasium, Felix noticed how the other voters moved through the process. Some filled out their ballots with genuine enthusiasm, their faces bright with patriotic fervor. Others, like himself, went through the motions with barely concealed resignation. A few looked genuinely frightened, their hands shaking as they marked their ballots.
The hallways leading back to the dormitories were lined with propaganda posters, their bright colors and bold typography demanding attention. "WE NEED YOU TO FIGHT IN THE WAR!" proclaimed one, featuring a stern-faced soldier pointing directly at the viewer. Another showed a group of young people in military uniforms with the slogan "IT'S YOUR CALLING TO BE A SOLDIER!" The images were everywhere—on walls, bulletin boards, even taped to the inside of bathroom stalls.
Felix felt a familiar ache in his chest as he walked past them, a burning desire to rip every single poster from the walls and shred them to pieces. The smiling faces and patriotic slogans felt like mockery, hollow promises hiding the reality of what military service actually meant. But he knew that even touching one of the posters inappropriately could result in arrest for subversion, and the punishment for subversion was far worse than simple imprisonment.
Instead, he kept his hands at his sides, his jaw clenched, and his eyes fixed straight ahead as he made his way back to the dormitory, another day of mandatory patriotism behind him.