The Academy System

The house felt different in the afternoon silence. Michael sat at his desk, surrounded by open books and scattered notes written in handwriting he was slowly beginning to recognize as his own. The morning's conversation with Sophie had given him a foundation, but now he needed details—real understanding of the world he'd inherited.

He picked up another book from the pile: "Modern Society Behind the Walls: A Comprehensive Guide." The cover was worn from frequent handling, and several pages had been bookmarked with strips of paper covered in careful annotations.

*The original Michael was serious about understanding this place,' he thought, flipping to a marked section titled "Post-Graduation Career Pathways."

The text was straightforward, almost clinical: *Upon completion of Academy education at age seventeen, all citizens are required to select from five official government-sanctioned career paths. These positions ensure the continued survival and prosperity of humanity's last sanctuary.*

Michael leaned back in his chair, processing this. Seventeen. He looked seventeen now, which meant this wasn't some distant future concern—this was his immediate reality. According to the book, he should be approaching graduation right now.

The five career paths were listed in order of apparent importance:

**Military Service (Omega Association)** - *The premier choice for young citizens. Military personnel receive triple standard wages, comprehensive benefits, advanced housing allocations, and significant social recognition. Military service is considered the highest honor available to citizens.*

**Medical Corps** - *Essential healthcare workers maintaining citizen wellness. Standard government wage with modest housing benefits. Respected but not celebrated.*

**Construction Division** - *Infrastructure maintenance and development specialists. Standard wage with limited advancement opportunities.*

**Mining Operations** - *Resource extraction to maintain city functions. Hazardous work with standard pay plus danger compensation.*

**Agricultural Sector** - *Food production and distribution. Basic wage with housing in Agricultural District.*

Michael stared at the stark descriptions. Even in the clinical language, the social hierarchy was obvious. Military first, everything else a distant second. He flipped through more pages, finding detailed breakdowns of each sector.

The Military section took up nearly half the book.

*The Omega Association represents humanity's shield against extinction. Founded in the aftermath of the Great War, the Association maintains three primary divisions: Combat Operations, Tactical Support, and Reconnaissance Units. All military personnel undergo intensive Symbolic compatibility testing, with successful bonding candidates receiving accelerated advancement and specialized training.*

*Current military benefits include:*

*- 300% standard citizen wage*

*- Priority housing in Central District*

*- Advanced medical coverage*

*- Social recognition programs*

*- Family support systems*

*- Post-service transition assistance*

The language grew more elaborate as it described military life, using words like "honor," "duty," and "heroic service." Michael noticed the contrast immediately—the other career descriptions were purely functional, but military service was presented as something almost sacred.

He found a section on public perception and social standing. Pictures showed uniformed soldiers being welcomed by crowds, children reaching out to touch their hands, families proudly displaying military service certificates on their walls. The accompanying text described "celebration parades," "community appreciation events," and "heroic recognition ceremonies."

'They're treated like celebrities,' Michael realized. 'Like movie stars or athletes back in... back in my old world.'

Another section detailed the economic realities. A military salary could support not just the soldier, but their entire extended family. The book showed comparison charts—a single Omega Association member earned more than three civilians combined. For families struggling to make ends meet, military service wasn't just attractive, it was transformative.

But beneath the promotional language, Michael found more sobering statistics. Casualty rates were listed in small print at the bottom of pages, hidden among the celebratory descriptions. Combat Operations showed a 23% fatality rate within the first five years of service. Reconnaissance Units had a 31% rate. The numbers were presented matter-of-factly, without commentary.

'People die doing this,' he thought grimly. 'A lot of people.'

He opened his notebook—apparently he'd been keeping detailed research notes—and found pages of calculations in his own handwriting. The original Michael had been analyzing cost-benefit ratios, comparing the financial benefits against survival statistics. Some notes were accompanied by question marks, as if he'd been wrestling with difficult decisions.

One page caught his attention: *"Is it worth the risk? Mom's medical bills are getting expensive. Sophie's trying to save for advanced certification. But 23% in five years... nearly one in four."*

Michael's chest tightened. The original Michael hadn't just been considering military service for glory or excitement—his family needed the money. The noble motivation of protecting humanity was complicated by very practical concerns about supporting the people he loved.

He found more personal notes scattered throughout the margins:*"Liam thinks I'm crazy after I told him I'm considering joining. Says it's too dangerous. Easy for him to say—his family doesn't need the income."*

'So Liam is against me joining,' Michael realized. 'But he doesn't understand my situation.'

Another note: *"Sophie doesn't know I'm considering it. She thinks I'll go Medical Corps like Mom. But doctors make standard wage. How long before we can't afford rent in this district?"*

The weight of inherited responsibility settled on Michael's shoulders. This wasn't just about choosing a career—it was about choosing whether to risk his life for his family's financial security. The original Michael had been carrying this burden alone, unable to share his concerns without worrying the people he was trying to protect.

Michael turned to a section on Academy graduation procedures. The process was more complex than he'd expected. Students didn't simply choose their career path—they underwent evaluation testing, aptitude assessments, and something called "preliminary compatibility screening."

*All graduating students undergo comprehensive evaluation to determine optimal career placement. While student preference is considered, final assignments are made based on aptitude scores, psychological profiles, and societal needs. Students showing exceptional potential for military service may be recommended for accelerated Symbolic compatibility testing.*

The phrase "may be recommended" stood out. It suggested that military service wasn't entirely voluntary—exceptional students could be pushed toward it regardless of their personal preferences. Michael found a footnote explaining that "students with high combat potential have a social obligation to serve in humanity's defense."

'Social obligation.' The words felt heavy with implied pressure.

He flipped to information about Symbolic compatibility testing and found the most intriguing section yet. The process was described in almost mystical terms, as if the writers didn't fully understand what they were documenting.

*Symbolic entities maintain strict selection criteria for bonding candidates. The process cannot be forced, predicted, or artificially influenced. Candidates are exposed to contained Symbolic entities under controlled conditions. Successful bonding occurs in approximately 12% of tested individuals, with no identifiable pattern determining selection.*

*Bonded individuals demonstrate enhanced physical capabilities, unique supernatural abilities, and extended lifespans. However, bonding also carries significant risks, including psychological integration challenges and potential for Symbolic rejection syndrome.*

Thirty-eight percent. Michael did the math quickly—more than one in three people successfully bonded with a Symbolic. The odds were actually quite good, and there was no risk involved in trying.

The afternoon light was fading as Michael continued reading. He found sections on Academy curriculum, graduation ceremonies, and post-assignment transition periods. The educational system was designed around practical survival skills rather than traditional academics. Students learned combat techniques, Hollow anatomy, tactical planning, and resource management alongside basic mathematics and literacy.

*Every citizen receives basic emergency protocols training. In extreme situations where the walls are breached, civilians may be called upon to assist in evacuation and basic defense efforts.*

Even doctors and farmers were expected to fight if necessary. This wasn't just a city—it was a fortress where everyone was a potential soldier.

Michael closed the book and rubbed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed by everything he'd learned. The original Michael had been facing an impossible choice between family financial security and personal survival. Military service offered wealth and honor, but came with significant risk of death. Other careers provided safety but might not generate enough income to support his mother and sister.

He looked around the room—at the modest furniture, the carefully maintained clothes, the evidence of a family making do with limited resources. Sophie worked filing paperwork for standard wages. Their mother pulled night shifts at the hospital. The original Michael had been studying these books because he was trying to find a way to lift his family out of financial struggle.

'And now that responsibility is mine,' Michael realized.

The weight of it settled on him like a physical burden. In his old life as Joe, he'd only had to worry about himself. Martha had made it clear he wasn't her responsibility, and he'd had no one depending on him. But now he had people who loved him, people who needed him to succeed.

The front door opened downstairs, followed by familiar footsteps and the sound of keys being set on a table. Sophie was home from work.

"Michael?" her voice called up the stairs. "How was your day?"

"Fine," he called back, though he felt anything but fine. "Just reading."

He could hear her moving around the kitchen, probably starting dinner preparations. Normal evening routine in a normal family—except nothing about this situation was normal. He was an impostor wearing a dead boy's face, inheriting not just his relationships but his obligations and difficult choices.

Michael gathered the scattered books and notes, organizing them back into neat piles on the desk. The original Michael had been methodical in his research, and the least he could do was maintain that organization.

Tomorrow he would need to learn more about the Omega Association, about what military life actually entailed beyond the propaganda and statistics. He would need to understand the social dynamics, the daily realities, the human cost of humanity's survival.

But tonight, he would have dinner with his sister and try to be the brother she deserved—even if he had no idea how to carry the weight of the decisions looming ahead of him.