Regrets

The food wasn't that good.

I mean, it wasn't bad, it just had a lot of grease and oil on it. What could be seen as some mashed potatoes and gravy could also be taken for pressed rice with syrup. The little pebbles in the food reminded me of pumpkin seeds, although they tasted like nothing of the sort. It was just magnificently unknown and sickening. What was I eating? Was this really food? I swear, they never taught us how food was made. All I can remember is that wheat was used for bread. Besides, why should I care? I don't make the food. That was the job of the African nations. Our job was technology. We were supposed to create a fix to the poles, so we were all taught gravity and Newton's laws. Thermodynamics and magnetism, this was the real future. We were in the most advanced country on earth! I remember being taught about it as a kid, and my teacher exclaiming how while the rest of the world was in shock and terror, fighting for resources, the Republic of Calimet took to saving the planet through technology.

I stared at the half-eaten plate. I didn't want to eat it but I was hungry nonetheless. The paper plate the food stood on started becoming moist from the microwaved heat applied to the food. I pushed it away.

Connor, sitting across from me wasn't eating anything. His arm was still bloody from smashing down the mirror as it has taken most of the force. He had fallen down the ramp behind it, tumbling and rolling down until he reached the flat floor. Waiting on us to make it out was a few trained guards. The head guard walked up to Connor, who was still on the floor holding his bloody hand, took a long glance at him and sighed "finally."

He looked up to see me and a few others slowly walking out the broken mirror. Our eyes were mostly closed on the late spring day. It was very bright.

"Follow me inside," the man said.

He turned 180 degrees around and began marching forward. The other few guards waited for us to follow first. One of them ran inside to wake the ones who didn't wake up. Their yelling was quite audible even in the rushing wind. We were supposed to have landed in Carson City. It made sense. The desert could definitely be felt. Much more dry. Just breathing felt more different. The wind brushed our legs with sand that might have traveled miles to reach this place. The landscape was flat, barren, and boring. Nothing about this place made one think "Hey, let me build something here," or "This place has alot of this thing." It seemed one of those far away landscapes one sees on a long road trip. A place seen by many but never traveled to. I guess that was the point though. If you wanted to test people without having really anyone know what the tests are, you would build it in the most inconspicuous location. This was that place. Speaking of the place, what we saw walking in wasn't too impressive, as the building we were walking in seemed to be the size of an airplane hanger, and made of the same metal by the looks of it. Conner picked himself up just as Damian and I walked to him.

Damian began, "How did you know?" he slowed to ask Connor.

"I guessed," Connor replied shrugging.

"I mean okay, so how did the wall go up?"

"Well, that part was Kayne, I saw him messing with something on the ground and then next thing I know, the panel on the wall went up."

"There was a light on the ground," I clarified, "And it didn't follow the pattern of flickering like the other ones. I messed around with it till it clicked, and the wall came up."

Damian wasn't as shocked as disappointed.

"Man, I can't believe I didn't figure that out! So simple. I'm sure that was our first test."

Connor and I nodded.

We had come inside, taken random seats, and ate the food that had probably been sitting there for at least a few hours.

I stared at my plate while Damian began to gobble his food down incredibly fast.

I was just so out of it for some reason. I think that most people were as no one was too entrenched with their food. Even after tasting it, Damian, who would never question what he was eating, slowed his pace. The tables were the same ones used at our school's cafeteria. Long, white tables, with four seats attached per 6 feet of table, and it was like this for the entire 20 thousand square feet the hanger seemed to cover. I looked at Damian again. He had stopped eating.

"What's wrong Damian?" I asked. Even Connor stopped fidgeting around with his arm and looked at Damian.

Damian paused, thought about it, and asked, "What if she doesn't remember me?"

"Who?" inquired Connor.

"No one," he said, looking at my eyes. It was his one joy for most of the flight and now it had turned into his one sadness.

"She never would," I replied.

"But then why would she not tell me when she got safe?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"And," he continued, "why didn't she come with us to Wyoming in the first place? Maybe she didn't like us to begin with."

"Stop dude, that's not gonna help with anything. You don't know that. That could be further from the truth than anything."

"But you don't know that, do you? And by the way it looks, she left us. Tell me another story that sounds more plausible than the fact that she didn't care enough to come to us and at least let us know she was okay. I would've been much better off not thinking she had died and that she didn't like me, but she would rather us think she were dead"

"Damian..."

"No! Don't stand up for her like that. She's a piece of junk that left both of us. Do you understand that? Why should you stand up for her and not me? This is so stupid…"

He sighed and went back to eating.

I was about to respond when Connor, who had quieted down after being shunned from the conversation, pointed towards a door.

"Look!" he said.

Only a select few realized she was there. Most were too busy talking to others about the wonderful plane food or what the drama at school was or whatever. I could hear Adira a ways down the row of people chatting up a storm. Out of the door came the lady in black, with her broad shoulders and her jet black hair. It was Dr. Berryman. She walked out and to the center of the room where she stood and said nothing.

As time progressed, each second dragged on to the next; and as the clock on the wall called the future into the present with each electrical movement, more people began to fall silent and look at her. Eyes darted away from the individuals' conversations and rotated to the husky woman that still stood still, motionless like a robot. Her smile was peculiar, it was one of not ironic contempt or joy, but of personal acceptance and pleasure. She loved what she was doing. After what might have been a minute or even an eternity the entire crowd of 150 people hushed to silence. Dr. Berryman moved ever so slightly forward and corrected her posture, and addressed us:

"Hello students of Calimet. I know that you might be wondering what is going on. I know that you are tired. I understand that you do not like the food. I want to tell you individuals what we will be doing over these next few months. We will be testing you like we said, and we will find those special ones that deserve more than they have. You all have already passed the first test, thanks to Mr. Hope and Mr. Powell's efforts."

She glanced at me and Connor and I felt all 148 eyes look right at us. It felt so weird. I looked at Connor who had refocused himself to his arm. It was drying up and the clotting was beginning.

The doctor continued, "In a few moments, you will have the opportunity to clean up and we will take you to your dormitories. It is time to enter the future. Why be stuck in the past? Why worry every day why food is hard to get on the table? We shouldn't, right? I mean, Our country has the marvelous job of controlling technology in the world. But we can't control what food is going to be produced? Our country's founder and leader, president Carder, believed that people of the same job ought to be working together, and we take it very seriously. We do not want another calamity. We are the reason why children born down in Australia have transportation that exceeds 150 miles per hour! We invented that! You will invent that! Without us the parents in New Mongolia would never have had information to begin with! We invented the Learning Pads, which are over 254% more efficient than traditional learning. Now it is time to do the same with our country. We have misled our own country in pursuing others. We WILL make this Republic, the one that has won EVERY war since its beginning, in pursuing ultimate justice and right, guarding technology with all our STRENGTH and our will and our divinity, a country that will DOMINATE the world!"

She was yelling by this point, no longer talking to us but rather to herself. It seemed that she had lost control in her passion for the subject. She was sweating bullets and breathing so heavy that one understood as panting. She was passionate enough to love and care for what she believed in, but I still did not understand what she believed in. She had been classically conditioned with passion for what she said.

" You will save us! You will! I will show you. You, children, will follow and create a society that we can be perfect in, where we can live in peace and dominance. It is unfair that we make all the technology and all the ideas in the world. You see?"

Everyone was very interested in what she had to say. As I took just one glance around I noticed that most looked like they disagreed, me among them. However, out of every few faces were certain individuals who started to nod. Among them was Adira. She nodded so eloquently that I could've sworn that I'd nod too. What the hell! No I wouldn't! Why was she nodding? This made no sense. That was literally world domination she was talking about.

"Now I know it sounds a bit crazy, but hear me out." she asked. "What have you been given by anyone? Has Calimet been fair to you? Your families? Did everyone's parents here make it out of the floods? We need to remake Calimet. It was supposed to be better than the United States. Calimet is supposed to be strong where the US was weak. Calimet is the promise of a better future for our people. How do we make that? President Carder has ensured us that we will not go back to the old days, and we won't. Over the next sets of weeks we will come together to make our society what it needs to be. To make the world what it needs to be."

She paused, took a breath, and took a look around.

Pleased by what she saw, she said, " Think about it, am I really wrong?"

She walked out the room very speedily and the guards that had brought us in, closed the door behind her and guarded it.

"What… the…" was all I could manage in words.

Damian agreed with my sentiment. "Well," he said, "They could be testing us if you think about it. I mean, no one really agrees with that. We know that world domination is wrong, right?"

"Definitely-" was all I could say before I heard some yelling a few tables down from us.

"Bro, what the hell are you talking about?!" said a boy with blond hair.

His question was quickly overpowered by a response from a redheaded guy, "We need better food god dammit! That's what! And I can't stand when I'm over here eating all this crappy excuse of food and I bet that these stupid Africans are hoarding it from us!"

He had stopped addressing the blond boy and was addressing everyone, who had fallen quiet.

"And anyone of y'all that disagree with me are stupid cowards. Your weak. Like the lady said, we have won every war up until now and that is not about to stop now! My fucking mom died because she did not have food! If we had better control of the world she wouldn't have! Maybe the world would finally do something that helped us! We get nothing in return from the other countries than death. My dad died in the floods! Bet you bunch of losers can relate! Y'all's hearts died in the flood! Your passion is weakened! You reason is wrong! Yet you ask me what's wrong? What's wrong is you! I will not lose this country! It's what makes us who we are! And if you idiots had any brain of any sort you would agree."

Tears began to drip from his eyes, moving slowly downwards on his cheek, and falling in slow motion to hit the table, which he was now standing on. His sneakers left a shaded footprint on the table, more opaque on the edges to account for his slight sway from side to side when he stood up. The people at his table had become silent except for his friend who reassured him.

"I…I… just wanted to say goodbye man…" he cried.

He sat down, in tears.

"I just wanted to be in a family," he clarified.

"You are," said a voice behind us.

It was Dr. Berryman. She had snuck back in without us noticing.

"It's time to go children" she said as she threw open the doors she had come from and beckoned us forward. Past the doors, the building turned from white walls to black walls with teal LED's lining the edges of the walkways. There were people that looked like waiters walking around carrying food to unseen rooms. We were given no time to think about what had just happened. I was not given enough time to think about what was said.

▲ ▲ ▲

The rooms were all white, plastered from top to bottom in very thick, newly-washed, paint that triggered and alarmed the noses of all who were in its vicinity. The rooms themselves had three beds in each, parallel to each other with white sheets and a small, unrespected semi-white pillow that seemingly screamed agonizingly to us for a change in its lifestyle. Destined to be in an enclosed room forever, away from society, from action, or from any meaning or purpose. It's life was a long one. It was the oldest thing in the room. There were no decorations in that sense, otherwise it might not have been. The three beds, three people, three pillows, and three sets of sheets in a set of 9 visible long hallways were all that I could see.

I was put in the room with B-23 and Connor, B-25. Made sense. Connor and I said our hellos to our roommate and he introduced himself as Kamil. Kamil had moved to Calimet as a baby to escape the revolution in then India. The mass overpopulation did not do well for their country until the people revolted. He didn't tell us more, as he seemed more introverted. I did feel bad for Damian though. We were supposed to take the tests together. That's what we had planned out in our minds at least. He was in a different hall now. And he was scared, very scared.

"What if I don't know anyone?" Was the last question he asked me before we departed down different hallways, guided by guards that took us one by one to our rooms.

I gave him a response that I still am mad at myself for. Had I known the amount of time that would pass before I saw him again, I would have been more concise and honest and understanding. I would have been more caring. I would have been a better friend. But alas, I was not. I was stubborn and weak minded, only caring for myself and what my problems were. That was my life. I did not care. Life is a witch that must be mastered. She leaves you alone for time to build potions in her hut of fate. Combining a mystery and another to interlock your fate with someone else's. Her potion is nothing to scoff at, as it is constructed of the finest hopes and dreams one could ask for. The desire for more of attention, love, and peace of mind. Her face is beautiful and simple and is something to be desired. We all desire her. We all fail. We all fail because life only loves the daring who tease life away and near. Her husband is death. He laughs and scoffs at us in our attempts. There is no happiness in life because there is the certainty of death at the end of the day, coming home, catching us in the act of teasing. He takes us and moves us away because only he, death, alone can fully understand life and appreciate her. I knocked on the door of life, and death answered the door. It was his day off.

"So what?" I had told Damian.

I got shoved in my room by the guard and had the door shut behind me almost immediately. I sat on my bed that night wondering what the following months would ensue. I had aspirations of something great. Could I prove myself good enough to make a change in the world? Would I do something great? Can an individual know for sure if he will be remembered throughout history, or does fate play a drunken game of chance? Did I have the knowledge to pass the tests? I didn't even know what they were, but something told me that Damian would be top of the class. And it was reassuring. It was reassuring to me that he was my friend. He was nice like that. I felt a little sad though. Was it sadness? I knew he'd do well. I knew it. I'd be along for the ride. Again. All aboard the Damian train. Was it maybe disappointment in myself? Everyone here seemed smart enough to be here except for me. Damian would be the best, I was sure. He'd make sure of it. He wanted to make the world a better place. Of course he did, he was a great person. Was it maybe regret? Did I think that Damian was better than me by default, as chosen by God or was it his drive and passion in school? Damian did spend more time studying than me. Of course he did. That's what smart kids do. Was it? Was it instead anger? I'm not quite sure. But the blood flowing in my veins had been ignited. I wanted the change, I wanted to do something of note. I wanted whatever was good and fruitful. What is fruitfulness?