And The Gears In The Brainbox Start Turning Once Again...
Like young Wessendorf, it's been a while since I've written anything remotely story length, and I've had an idea for an anti-utopian story for a while now. This is the prologue. Hope you enjoy it!
Prologue:
The room was a long, dark corridor, made of large plates of finely polished steel, held together by great rivets about an inch wide. Metal grating made up the floor of this room, and large fluorescent lamps hung bolted to similar grating on the ceiling, behind which tangled masses of twisting, turning pipes could be made out if one studied the area very closely. There was a door at the far end, a great, sturdy door made to slide into the walls for those permitted to enter, and this door did just that. With a loud clang, the door unlocked itself and slid slowly open, permitting the light from the lift behind it to flood into the corridor before betraying the silhouettes of seven men in military uniform. When the door had fully opened, the men strode into the corridor in perfect military unison.
In the dim light provided by the lift, the walls of the corridor could be made out to be giant doors, each designated by a letter followed by two numbers stenciled in white paint on the surface. As the men began to pass them, the doors opened one by one, revealing large rooms below. The first rooms the men passed were full of boys, some no older than seven, all in full military uniform and carrying wooden rifles. Several large men with sergeant’s stripes paraded up and down the columns of boy-soldiers, barking inaudible orders that the boys quickly obeyed.
“We seem to have a good batch of recruits this generation,” said one of the men in the corridor to the others. “Perhaps the plans our ancestors began centuries ago have finally born fruit.”
“Yes, Colonel Iseman,” another replied, “These boys are the products of uncounted years of selective breeding, using the strongest men and the most obedient women our civilization can offer. I’m certain that they will become fine soldiers someday.”
A third spoke up as they finished passing the last of the rooms full of small boys. “Perhaps, with their sacrifice, this damned war can finally end,” he said.
“Don’t be too optimistic about our advances, Commander Eschin,” the fourth said as the second batch of doors opened, revealing more training rooms filled with ranks of adolescent boys, most about eleven years old, carrying real rifles and practicing bayoneting drills on sandbags hanging from hooks and thick chains on the walls. Other rooms had boys of about the same age practicing marksmanship on paper targets. “The enemy have undoubtedly made as much progress as we have in the science of warfare, especially if you consider the number of new tanks and aircraft they have brought to the battlefield in recent years,” he continued.
A fifth man nodded in agreement. “The territory held by the Southern Coalition is quite wealthy in ores and raw fuel,” he said. “The only way they can hope to counter our superior numbers is with more and deadlier machines.”
“General Arkas,” a sixth man asked, “Why is it exactly that we are still fighting this long and bloody war? Haven’t enough generations of our young men fought and died without knowing why we fight?”
The seventh man chewed on his cigar before responding. “You are new to the government’s cabinet, as well as being a civilian, so I will explain all of this to you. But first, you must understand that everything said and done in this building is to be held in the strictest of confidence. We can’t have our men out fighting on the front lines thinking for themselves, now can we?
“But first, perhaps I need to explain our recruiting process, since you are undoubtedly unfamiliar with the subject.” The man nodded. “Our recruiting actually begins out on the front line, long before the recruits themselves are born. I trust you know that there is a women’s division to our military that provides support for the regular combat regiments out in the theatre of battle. As you can imagine, these women almost never see any action, since they are usually housed in our frontline bases and are well protected by the defenses there. This is deliberate: unlike men, women are not naturally suited for combat. Men are larger, stronger and tend to generally be more powerful than women in almost every respect. These women represent future generations yet unborn.”
The men passed by the rooms of the young men training and approached another series of doors, which like the others automatically opened. These rooms, while similar in size as the training rooms, were completely different than the stark, utilitarian steel grey walls of the previous chambers. These rooms were completely white, and were full of large beds on wheels, each bearing a pregnant woman dressed in a white gown. Their ages differed greatly: a young girl of about fourteen was seen conversing with a woman who looked to be twenty years her senior, probably about the younger girl’s anxiety over her first childbirth. Other women in nurse’s uniforms bore trays full of bowls of some unidentifiable soup and brought them to their charges. “As you can see, these women are all mothers to be,” the General continued, “They were all members of the women’s auxiliary regiments assigned to the front lines who were impregnated by soldiers at the base. As a precautionary measure, when a pregnancy is detected in even a single woman, her entire platoon are recalled to the central territories, and a fresh one is sent in their place. Those who are indeed pregnant spend their time in wards such as these while they carry their unborn children to term, and eventually give birth, while those that aren’t are granted some hard-earned R&R.
“These newborns are then assigned names and identification codes, and are kept under heavy guard while they mature into small children while their mothers are sent back into the field, usually to replace a unit that must come in due to a pregnancy.
“At the age of three, these children are enrolled in a program where they go through a rigorous process of physical drills, discipline, indoctrination and learning of basic skills. The boys are taught to be courageous and strong, while the girls learn to be charming and compliant. Both sexes learn obedience and to reflexively act upon orders given to them by a superior. Their development is closely monitored by their instructors, who flag children that develop certain habits and aptitudes that either need correcting or improving, and these reports are filtered into a database that charts a child’s options for his future.
“After six years of primary schooling, the sexes are separated and ushered into basic training for the roles they will play when they become members of society. The boys begin instruction in the basics of combat and formation while the girls are tutored in the reproductive sciences, at first in theory, and eventually in practice.
“After two years of basic training, the boys are divided into the various branches of the military: those with strong leadership qualities go on to command school where they train to become officers, those who display exceptional intelligence are sent off to a specialist academy where they learn advanced skills such as engineering and vehicle operation, and the rest remain in facilities such as this one where they train to become infantrymen. They spend another three years training to become soldiers in the field they have been assigned, although the specialists often stay for up to ten years to perfect their trades. After a quick graduation ceremony, the new soldiers are organized into regiments and are sent off to the front lines.
“The girls spend more time in basic training than the boys do, but they also spend much less time perfecting their arts, namely various methods of… incentive for soldiers to help them carry out their sacred duty of producing the next generation of soldiers and mothers. A single woman often bears five or six children in her youth, and may even go as far as ten before she reaches menopause, at which point she retires from active duty and goes on to perform duties as a civilian, often as a nurse or a teacher to the younger generations.”
The younger man waited until the General finished his last sentence before speaking up. “But where do the civilians fit in with all this? Most of us are unable to bear children, so how are we able to have new generations of male civilians such as myself if all of the boys produced are turned into soldiers?”
The General smiled. This boy was thinking. Not a good quality for an ordinary soldier or civilian, but a fine trait in a cabinet member. “Not all of the children produced by the military are viable soldiers, you see. Some ten percent of all males produced are sterile, which is not good for the next generation of soldiers. Others are too weak or stupid to be of any use other than cannon fodder in an organization such as ours, so we discharge them and put them to work in the farms or the factories, or anywhere else where they might be useful. Every soul in the North Sphere Federation devotes his or her life to the war effort.”
“But what do we hope to gain by fighting in this way? What good will come of this war?”
The last bank of doors opened, revealing one massive, unified chamber. An entire battalion stood ready as the seven men stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the sea of men arrayed in broad ranks and deep columns, with thick phalanxes of dark, mottled grey battle tanks and other war machines separating the companies. All of the countless men on the floor below, even the crews of the fighting vehicles, stood up in perfect order and saluted the seven men high above them.
“We fight to restore our beautiful and green planet.”
So, what do you guys think?
Prologue:
The room was a long, dark corridor, made of large plates of finely polished steel, held together by great rivets about an inch wide. Metal grating made up the floor of this room, and large fluorescent lamps hung bolted to similar grating on the ceiling, behind which tangled masses of twisting, turning pipes could be made out if one studied the area very closely. There was a door at the far end, a great, sturdy door made to slide into the walls for those permitted to enter, and this door did just that. With a loud clang, the door unlocked itself and slid slowly open, permitting the light from the lift behind it to flood into the corridor before betraying the silhouettes of seven men in military uniform. When the door had fully opened, the men strode into the corridor in perfect military unison.
In the dim light provided by the lift, the walls of the corridor could be made out to be giant doors, each designated by a letter followed by two numbers stenciled in white paint on the surface. As the men began to pass them, the doors opened one by one, revealing large rooms below. The first rooms the men passed were full of boys, some no older than seven, all in full military uniform and carrying wooden rifles. Several large men with sergeant’s stripes paraded up and down the columns of boy-soldiers, barking inaudible orders that the boys quickly obeyed.
“We seem to have a good batch of recruits this generation,” said one of the men in the corridor to the others. “Perhaps the plans our ancestors began centuries ago have finally born fruit.”
“Yes, Colonel Iseman,” another replied, “These boys are the products of uncounted years of selective breeding, using the strongest men and the most obedient women our civilization can offer. I’m certain that they will become fine soldiers someday.”
A third spoke up as they finished passing the last of the rooms full of small boys. “Perhaps, with their sacrifice, this damned war can finally end,” he said.
“Don’t be too optimistic about our advances, Commander Eschin,” the fourth said as the second batch of doors opened, revealing more training rooms filled with ranks of adolescent boys, most about eleven years old, carrying real rifles and practicing bayoneting drills on sandbags hanging from hooks and thick chains on the walls. Other rooms had boys of about the same age practicing marksmanship on paper targets. “The enemy have undoubtedly made as much progress as we have in the science of warfare, especially if you consider the number of new tanks and aircraft they have brought to the battlefield in recent years,” he continued.
A fifth man nodded in agreement. “The territory held by the Southern Coalition is quite wealthy in ores and raw fuel,” he said. “The only way they can hope to counter our superior numbers is with more and deadlier machines.”
“General Arkas,” a sixth man asked, “Why is it exactly that we are still fighting this long and bloody war? Haven’t enough generations of our young men fought and died without knowing why we fight?”
The seventh man chewed on his cigar before responding. “You are new to the government’s cabinet, as well as being a civilian, so I will explain all of this to you. But first, you must understand that everything said and done in this building is to be held in the strictest of confidence. We can’t have our men out fighting on the front lines thinking for themselves, now can we?
“But first, perhaps I need to explain our recruiting process, since you are undoubtedly unfamiliar with the subject.” The man nodded. “Our recruiting actually begins out on the front line, long before the recruits themselves are born. I trust you know that there is a women’s division to our military that provides support for the regular combat regiments out in the theatre of battle. As you can imagine, these women almost never see any action, since they are usually housed in our frontline bases and are well protected by the defenses there. This is deliberate: unlike men, women are not naturally suited for combat. Men are larger, stronger and tend to generally be more powerful than women in almost every respect. These women represent future generations yet unborn.”
The men passed by the rooms of the young men training and approached another series of doors, which like the others automatically opened. These rooms, while similar in size as the training rooms, were completely different than the stark, utilitarian steel grey walls of the previous chambers. These rooms were completely white, and were full of large beds on wheels, each bearing a pregnant woman dressed in a white gown. Their ages differed greatly: a young girl of about fourteen was seen conversing with a woman who looked to be twenty years her senior, probably about the younger girl’s anxiety over her first childbirth. Other women in nurse’s uniforms bore trays full of bowls of some unidentifiable soup and brought them to their charges. “As you can see, these women are all mothers to be,” the General continued, “They were all members of the women’s auxiliary regiments assigned to the front lines who were impregnated by soldiers at the base. As a precautionary measure, when a pregnancy is detected in even a single woman, her entire platoon are recalled to the central territories, and a fresh one is sent in their place. Those who are indeed pregnant spend their time in wards such as these while they carry their unborn children to term, and eventually give birth, while those that aren’t are granted some hard-earned R&R.
“These newborns are then assigned names and identification codes, and are kept under heavy guard while they mature into small children while their mothers are sent back into the field, usually to replace a unit that must come in due to a pregnancy.
“At the age of three, these children are enrolled in a program where they go through a rigorous process of physical drills, discipline, indoctrination and learning of basic skills. The boys are taught to be courageous and strong, while the girls learn to be charming and compliant. Both sexes learn obedience and to reflexively act upon orders given to them by a superior. Their development is closely monitored by their instructors, who flag children that develop certain habits and aptitudes that either need correcting or improving, and these reports are filtered into a database that charts a child’s options for his future.
“After six years of primary schooling, the sexes are separated and ushered into basic training for the roles they will play when they become members of society. The boys begin instruction in the basics of combat and formation while the girls are tutored in the reproductive sciences, at first in theory, and eventually in practice.
“After two years of basic training, the boys are divided into the various branches of the military: those with strong leadership qualities go on to command school where they train to become officers, those who display exceptional intelligence are sent off to a specialist academy where they learn advanced skills such as engineering and vehicle operation, and the rest remain in facilities such as this one where they train to become infantrymen. They spend another three years training to become soldiers in the field they have been assigned, although the specialists often stay for up to ten years to perfect their trades. After a quick graduation ceremony, the new soldiers are organized into regiments and are sent off to the front lines.
“The girls spend more time in basic training than the boys do, but they also spend much less time perfecting their arts, namely various methods of… incentive for soldiers to help them carry out their sacred duty of producing the next generation of soldiers and mothers. A single woman often bears five or six children in her youth, and may even go as far as ten before she reaches menopause, at which point she retires from active duty and goes on to perform duties as a civilian, often as a nurse or a teacher to the younger generations.”
The younger man waited until the General finished his last sentence before speaking up. “But where do the civilians fit in with all this? Most of us are unable to bear children, so how are we able to have new generations of male civilians such as myself if all of the boys produced are turned into soldiers?”
The General smiled. This boy was thinking. Not a good quality for an ordinary soldier or civilian, but a fine trait in a cabinet member. “Not all of the children produced by the military are viable soldiers, you see. Some ten percent of all males produced are sterile, which is not good for the next generation of soldiers. Others are too weak or stupid to be of any use other than cannon fodder in an organization such as ours, so we discharge them and put them to work in the farms or the factories, or anywhere else where they might be useful. Every soul in the North Sphere Federation devotes his or her life to the war effort.”
“But what do we hope to gain by fighting in this way? What good will come of this war?”
The last bank of doors opened, revealing one massive, unified chamber. An entire battalion stood ready as the seven men stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the sea of men arrayed in broad ranks and deep columns, with thick phalanxes of dark, mottled grey battle tanks and other war machines separating the companies. All of the countless men on the floor below, even the crews of the fighting vehicles, stood up in perfect order and saluted the seven men high above them.
“We fight to restore our beautiful and green planet.”
So, what do you guys think?