Gdansk.
Rudniki’s assessment that they would end up working in a factory made Santiago have second guesses about this whole issue: He wasn’t sure it would be a safe environment for the technical minor he was -though he struggled to look himself like one- and considered actually going on with his plan to move out of the city. However, it seemed the captain was partially cut off from reality, and while access to labor was more open than what Pre-Coup History taught him when it came to children, it seemed obvious Poland wasn’t the War-bound social hellscape the -by now admittedly- propaganda of the United Nations painted it to be trapped in. Things had moved on and he was barred from entry jobs at manufacturing or heavy lifting in the port.
He landed for himself a job at the port, however, at a warehouse that processed the exportation of apples through the port, and helped checking and thoroughly closing crates as they went into containers that were bound to Russia, mostly. He was soon helping with receiving the exportation crates, which he found the most exhausting job, and his help was required he knew that night he would have to give himself some absolute rest.
Which is why Beatrice’s knock on her flat, less than a mile off his workplace, found him still in his factorial attire of an eye-catching lime green and ridden with retroreflectives.
“What is it?” He was barely able to ask. Not that he was that tired. Beatrice seemed urged and down. “Want to come in?”
He’d seen her two days earlier as she announced to some of the others at a nearby café that she was going back to school. Santiago had signed up to start in some weeks and was arranging his own schedule to go into a half-time job that would make it happen. Janna was outright getting ready to apply to university. It turned out they were quite prepared and could outsmart most people their age, but they lacked some basic knowledge and their social skills were commonly reported to be just trouble.
She walked in and he closed the door behind her. “What happened?”
“Harold…” She started, then falling on an old couch a neighbor had lent him. Harold had been advancing on to ask her on a date. Santiago imagined it was that she rejected him or something. But Beatrice continued. “He’s in the hospital.”
“What? What do you mean? I mean… What happened?”
The girl grabbed her head, as if she tried to collect her thoughts. Santiago went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water, finding her in the same position.
“He had some sort of… Panic attack, I suppose. Remember he told us he was going to school? Regular school.”
Harold Garrick was, of all, the one that had mastered Polish the best, and was proudly announcing he had been accepted at a school to finish his education regularly just two weeks earlier.
Beatrice grabbed the glass and drank, then sighed. Santiago sat in the floor across her.
“He… he had some sort of crisis. As far as he managed to tell me, he was back in Mount Buffalo. Back in the boot camp. He said he was being scolded for having surrendered and he would be sent back to the front.”
“What?” It sounded insane. And by the details she was giving, it was. “He had some sort of hallucination?”
She shrugged. He’d never seen her so… normal. Her bone structure was almost fully regular.
“So? He was sent to a psych ward or something?”
Beatrice nodded. “He was sent to the hospital for multiple concussions. It seems he partially snapped and ran off through a staircase. At least he’s off and will recover.”
“You talked to him?”
She nodded, but looked down. “I hate Polish medicine.” She said hushed. “If anything feels unnatural about here, it’s the hospital. Everything felt… wrong. And he was speaking… It wasn’t really him.” Her silence indicated that she couldn’t quite explain what that actually meant. Beatrice finished the glass and left it on the bare floor by the couch.
“He will recover and come out. No need to worry.”
But Beatrice wasn’t convinced. “What if he actually… It’s insane.”
“What?”
“I’ve had that hallucination too, Santiago. Janna too, and John.” She looked at him furiously. “I was back there, in Brisbane. I was being told I had to be ready to die for mankind. That we were expendable. I was pointed as the sole meta in my class. Used as target and bait… And when I snapped out I did have the urge to run away, or scream or… something! It happened right in the middle of a class and I barely managed to stay still.”
Santiago was horrified. Were they all going through this? Was he? He could remember having weird thoughts at work. Once he thought he heard his dad calling him out. And he felt observed on his way back home every other day. It was unnerving.
“When will he come out? Harold?” He tried to think of something objective. It was what he was taught to do. Land and walk. She shrugged.
“I… Don’t think we are going to see him again, Santiago.” She whispered, but it sounded like a scream which echo they both held for in silence. “If anything, he is no longer safe.”
***
Janna walked towards a bus stop in the early hours of morning. She seemed radiant on the way to university. Santiago quickened his pace and intercepted her out of a park.
“We need to talk…” He said in Spanish. She seemed startled and mildly annoyed.
“Santi… What is it? I am trying to get early to my preparation classes.”
“Screw that!” he talked without raising his voice and made a gesture for both to walk. She protested but didn’t go on after he gave a couple of steps. The two went into one of the streets with awakening businesses. It was Santiago’s free Wednesday, as his schedule only took four days a week.
“What do you mean? I am trying to do something with my life…”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had those dreams? Like Harold?” He knew it sounded imposing and didn’t like it. But that was all he could do. Janna frowned.
“It’s just dreams… Bea told you? She exaggerates.”
“Does she?” He asked as they passed outside Tsarbucks. “Let me invite you to a coffee.”
Again, she seemed ready to protest as the boy went into the store. But she sighed and followed a second later. They had just opened and Santiago took over a two-seater table at the corner. They both felt eyes falling on them.
“I will be with you in a minute!” The barista said in Polish. Santiago replied a general acknowledgement as Janna sat in front of him.
“What the hell is this?”
“I think we’ve been programmed.”
He really hoped the barista and the staff didn’t hear that. It was Spanish, of course, so they wouldn’t understand. Janna raised an eyebrow.
“I mean… we have. Right?”
“I mean, worse than we ever thought. Janna. We are all, one way or another, going back to Boot Camp. Harold was just the first to snap and do so in a bad moment.”
She put on her comprehensive, big-adoptive sister mask. “Oh, Santiago. I know it’s hard to adapt. You really need to try.”
“Please. Spare that.”
“I can take your order now.” One of the staff members walked over to them, apparently annoyed she had to go between so many free tables to get to the early customers. Santiago grunted since it was obvious he wanted some privacy. Only Janna seemed to get it.
“I will take… a Doble Macchiato Amber Latte. With cream. He will have a large Cappuccino. The Kremlin special. He could really use one.”
The barista smiled at her attitude as she took the orders, exchanging a compliment in silence. “Excellent. I will be right back!” She said, leaving the two back to their native language.
“You are paying.” She reminded him. Santiago grunted. “Listen, Santiago. We were child soldiers. That’s fucked up by any standard. Specialized ones. Even worse. And in order to break free we had to cut off from our families. It took a special kind of courage to do that.”
“Did your shrink tell you that?” They’d all been assigned therapists. Santiago was convinced they were partially tasked with assessing if they were dangerous.
“It has to be for something.” She admitted, shrugging. “Listen. You lost your mother and father, and you sat particularly high at Buller. My father was part of the cabinet, sure. But your dad was in charge of Australia at some point. And I don’t want to slide down the red slide of propaganda, but this is a classless society now.”
Classless Society was an euphemism for <<light communism>> for some of the peplinites. The ongoing attempt to create utopia doomed to always find the inherent limitations of society.
“It’s only natural it’s sort of hard for you. But what are you going to do? It’s over!”
They both were silent when the drinks came, and thanked the staff before sipping in silence half the cup. Santiago felt the rush of caffeine and remembered his mother didn’t like him drinking coffee.
“I dreamt of Federico the night before Beatrice told me of Harold. We were kids again. But he said he was going to die and that I would have to continue fighting. It felt like… like he was teasing me.” He said while she listened in silence. The mask was on again. “Then… He died. I don’t know how to explain it. It just sank on my mind that my brother was dead. Without a proof of explanation. And I just put on his uniform.”
“We don’t know what happened. He could still be a prisoner. Hell, he could be in our same situation.” She smiled, but Santiago looked up to her across the table with an expression of disdain for her theory.
“In the South American Reich?”
Her smile vanished. Silence ensued as they finished their cups. “I can pay my part.” She offered. Santiago nodded.
“No. Sorry for taking your time. I guess I should have thought not everybody has a free Wednesday. I am sorry.”
“I mean it…”
“I have a job. You won’t have an income until you settle at the university.” He regretted saying that, but Janna walked away from the table and left him to his thoughts.
Then she returned and placed another cup on the table. “I paid for it, Santi. Enjoy your free day. Please don’t be so tough on yourself. We will find a purpose.” She said before kissing him on the cheek. Then walked out through the door.
“I don’t know what weird customs you have in Spain.” The cashier said with a smirk across the empty tables. “But you really need to snap out of it, boy!”
It was early and Santiago didn’t have the motivation to feel insulted. He raised the cup and cheered to it. Then continued drinking as the first normal customers walked through the door.
