Like all good things do, our breakfast period ends.
I follow the rest of the First Kilo out into the Field just across from the Cafeteria. It's a huge, wide open space, with grass and wildflowers and rocks and trees. A broad river of crystal clear water runs from left to right, and in the distance the hills rise and fall before the mountains take over the horizon.
The Field is simulated too, but it's a lot easier to forget that. I've never been in the real outdoors before, but I think this would be close to it.
The warm sun is so bright I have to shield my eyes as a cool breeze tugs at my clothes and hair. The Archway is giving us a beautiful day, but I wish it was raining. I like the rain.
Keeping my head down, I meander through all the other Subjects to my spot in the Drill Field, which is a wide open grassy area within the Field, front and center just outside the Cafeteria. I keep hearing the usual muttered disgust at my presence, but nobody approaches to hurt or make fun of me directly.
Hopefully it stays that way.
I could use a break. This week has been bad…
All one thousand of us Subjects of the First Kilo are divided into ten groups of one hundred, called Centas. Each Centa has ten subdivisions, called Decas. Each Deca has ten Subjects, one of each Prime Digit.
Me being Subject Five-Five-Five, I'm right in the middle of everyone, which I hate, but have no choice but to tolerate. Centa Five Deca Fifty, or just the Five-Fifty, is at attention except for our Three, whose head keeps turning to watch the clouds. Right in front of me is Four again.
The Orders check the attendance of the entire First Kilo, and then we break off from the rest into just Centa Five, going to where our staff committee stands waiting by the treeline. Ten adults plus one–a Lead for every Deca, and a Captain to oversee them.
The Captain–who we only know by that title–is a shrill blonde woman with strict dress and a rigid way of moving. She announces to us all, "Subjects, your exercises today will be different from the usual. Following morning cardiovascular training, you will break for refresh like always, and then your Lead will take you to a new area of the Complex."
Oh. That's interesting. I'm excited.
She folds her arms and looks at each of our Naughts in turn. They're the Subjects at the front of the lines, and the designated leaders of every Deca. Zero. Naught. Null. I hear Subject Naught-Naught-Naught is proud to be part of the ultra exclusive Triple Digit Deca, but I really wish I wasn't.
Too much attention…
I think Nine-Nine-Nine is cool though.
I really doubt she thinks the same of me.
The Captain continues, "Today, each of you will have a one on one engagement with your Prime Digit equivalents from other Decas, during which, win or lose, your performance will be evaluated according to a new grading scale. Combat Readiness, or CR for short."
I perk up a little. Another new grading scale?
When they introduced the Cognition and Intellect simulation exams, I was so good at both that I topped the charts, and I still hold first place in them. Everyone hates those exams but I think they're fun. They're all games based on predictions, pattern analysis, spatial awareness, probability, mental imaging, and memory. What's not to like?
Hopefully I can be the best at this one too, whatever it is. I like being good at things. It means I'm not completely broken. And if the bullies get their feelings hurt from seeing that I did better than them…
Well, that's just a bonus.
"Make no mistake," the Captain adds with emphasis. "These skirmishes will be arduous drills. You are to do everything in your power to win. We hope to see what each of you are capable of, so show your abilities at their best, Subjects. This is your chance. Am I understood?"
All of us declare in unison, "Yes, ma'am!"
"Dismissed. Leads, they're all yours."
The Five-Fifty's Lead is Mason Bell, a tall and kindhearted man who I've gotten to know well over the years. Maybe I could even call him a friend, but he's an adult so I don't think that counts.
"Fifty," he calls with an inviting smile, waving for us to follow him across the river bridge and into the forest, where we're allowed to break formation and attention.