Voices float past, incoherent and faint. 

Muddled sounds and blinding lights. His mind 

Catches on the word, "Hold still."

The restraints pinch his arms and legs, bringing him back to reality. Bitter cold seeps past his armor plating, into his body. He shudders involuntarily, trying to wriggle away. 

"It's just a standard procedure." The voice belongs to a stranger in a lab. He can vaguely make out his face. There is a hint of sympathy in his optics, but he moves away, out of sight. 

There is no escape, He cries out in panic. There is something very, very wrong here, and a sickening feeling twists his stomach.

And then come the vibrations, pounding into his body, especially his head.

Pounding.

Thumping.

Stretching.

Squeezing.

A searing headache.

A harsh ringing.

And pain. All the pain. It spots his visions, clouds his thoughts. Someone screams.

Was that me?

His optics dart around, catching on a more familiar face, one he loved...who used to love him, too, he thinks. He should know this face, but his features are indistinguishable. He doesn't know. He doesn't remember. All he feel is a hole where he like should be in his memory, and bigger, and bigger in horror, he realizes everything is slipping away.

One memory after another slips out of her grasp is squeezed out of his brain by this machine of nightmares, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. It rattles he until there's nothing left.

A wave of emptiness tugs at he heart, lulling him asleep. Anything is better than this. He can't fight it anymore. Darkness beckons, and he follows, a shallow husk of the child he used to be.

"Hey. Hey, you. Wake up!"

Someone shoved him in the shoulder. Silas startled awake, swallowing a scream. Squeezing the arms of his chair, He looked around the room, struggling to reorient himself.

Silas sat in one of several rows of hard, metal seats. He heard the sounds of people sitting all around the waiting room, coughing, shifting in their seats, murmuring to one another in scattered conversations. He saw a screen mounted on the wall, in the corner to his left. The volume was just barely audible. To his right was a door leading to the offices inside the building.

It's okay. It's okay. I'm okay. It's not real. It's just that stupid nightmare again, he told himself with a shiver. He rubbed the back of his head, remembering the splitting headache with a grimace. Why do my nightmares always have to feel so damn real?

"Hey, are you okay?" the stranger from before prompted. "You sick or something?" He sat directly to Silas's left, staring at him.

Silas met his optics with a sheepish chuckle. "I'm fine, thanks. Just had a nightmare. It happens a lot when I'm stressed."

He grumbled in disgust, "Okay, whatever, I don't care, as long as you're not gonna hurl on me or somethin'. I just got this new jacket cleaned; I'm not about to let some outer prov' scum mess it up." He turned away to watch the news.

Silas's smile disappeared. "Sorry," he muttered, boring a furious gaze into the other man's outfit. His clothes were spotless-bright red leather, polished boots, not a single scuff. Of course he's spotless. Probably takes a taxi everywhere. Bet he's never walked through real dirt in his life.

Silas glanced down at his own worn boots, still dusty from days of traveling. His whole body was sore. He hadn't had time to wash up before this morning's interview. He had only arrived in Central City earlier that morning, and he'd spent the rest of his time wandering the maze-like streets looking for the Office of Public Service.

All I want right now is thirty minutes of uninterrupted, nightmare-free sleep. Is that too much to ask? he thought, crossing his arms and sinking into his chair.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard, "This just in: yet another mysterious attack at the Central Research and Development Facility, located in Outer District Twelve. Authorities are investigating the situation now. Chancellor Alastor has released the following statement..."

Another attack? Oh, come on, Silas worried silently, sitting up straighter. And so close to home, too — District Twelve is only a few miles from the border of my district.

He reminded himself with a shake, That's not my home anymore. I'm starting a new life now. Growing up there wasn't awful, but I sure hope I get stationed anywhere except District Thirteen. It's so boring there except when rebels start blowing things up. God, they're annoying.

"...and government troopers report there have been no known casualties so far. Officials say the situation is under control. Emergency Response Teams are searching for trapped civilians in the wreckage as we speak."

Silas watched the footage closely. He admired the troopers and emergency responders — the way they moved as one unit, their crisp uniforms, their fearless coordination. They were trained soldiers from all over the thirteen districts. If rebels caused trouble or disrupted the peace, these teams were the first to respond. And while both units were impressive, Silas was most captivated by the elite soldiers, The Dominion Guard. Joining the Guard was the highest honor a citizen could earn.

Silas looked at his bare shoulders no patches, no rank, no insignia. But one day soon, he promised himself, he would earn it. He had trained his entire life for that chance.

"Chancellor Alastor has announced that the culprits responsible for the attack are believed to be members of the rebel organization known as The Wreckers. Citizens, if you see anything suspicious, report it immediately through the emergency link displayed on-screen." The announcer pointed at the camera. "Only you can help keep our nation safe."

"I will. You can count on it," Silas whispered, a spark of determination lighting in his eyes.

He didn't realize he had spoken out loud.

"Oh, please," scoffed the rude man beside him. He rolled his eyes. "Like you could protect anybody. The day I see you fighting off a rebel is the day I eat my own boots. You'd get torn apart in five minutes."

"Oh yeah? We'll see about that," Silas shot back.

Before he could come up with a sharper retort, an authoritative voice called out, "Number 57?"

"Yes?" Silas answered, standing at attention. A woman wearing a crisp government uniform waited inside the doorway. Even though her rank was lower, officers like her were vital to enforcing peace. Which meant Silas needed to make a strong first impression.

He followed her down a brightly lit hallway. A flicker of unease tightened his chest, reminding him of his nightmare. His shoulders relaxed slightly when they entered a small office with a desk, a tablet, and a nameplate reading: Officer Fender Plate.

"State your name, identification number, and purpose," she said flatly, gesturing for him to sit.

Trying to sound confident and professional, Silas replied, "My name is Silas. Identification number 120-1200-120. I'm here to receive my first assignment."

"I see." She typed into the computer. "Name of biological parents?"

"I—I don't know. I was found abandoned as a child with no ID, so I was raised in the state system. My supervisor gave me the name Silas." He watched her face, trying to read her expression through her emotionless demeanor. She didn't press further, which suited him fine. Pity made him uncomfortable. Judgment made him angry.

His situation wasn't uncommon. Orphans were becoming more frequent. Some parents died, others disappeared, and many were forced to abandon children after breaking strict population limits. Resources were scarce, and after decades of mismanagement by the old council, the country had been suffering food and fuel shortages. The government was forced to impose strict regulations until supplies stabilized.

Families who exceeded the child limit had two options: surrender the child for medical research... or surrender them to the state to be trained for public service. Every child trained by the state took a standardized exam at age eighteen. Passing meant earning a career a chance to contribute to society.

"Hey. Pay attention, kid. Are you trying to waste my time?"

"No, ma'am! Sorry, ma'am," Silas blurted out, cheeks burning. Exhaustion was making his thoughts drift.

"I said: do you remember the name of any relatives?"

"Oh—uh, yes! I mean—no. No, I don't. Sorry."

"Most recent address?"

"District Thirteen, ma'am. The orphanage."

Officer Fender Plate paused to compare his digital ID to his face. His picture was old and awful a weird half-smile frozen forever. She finally grunted in approval.

"Let's see... you passed the state exam with extremely high marks." She frowned. "How did you manage that?"

Silas blinked. "I—I don't understand the question."

"The average score is 70%. You scored 93%. In an outer district."

"Well, I just studied and trained really hard. That test was only the beginning. This assignment is what really matters."

He couldn't stop his foot from tapping anxiously. "Yes, I've been stuck in the outer districts my whole life. But that doesn't mean I don't have what it takes to serve my country. Ma'am, I've dreamed of this since I was a kid. I want to go out there and help people. Just like you do."

The officer studied him for a long moment, trying to judge his honesty.

Silas's heart pounded. This is it. Please let this be it.

Finally she sighed. "Look, here's all I can give you. Choose from this list and you'll be done."

She slid the tablet across the desk. 

Silas grabbed it eagerly and scrolled through the list:

Computer assistant, data clerk, lab tech, janitorial crew, factory worker, mineral extraction, medical aide, sanitation staff...None of these were what he had worked for. With his scores, he expected high-skill roles engineer, researcher, instructor or the most coveted position of all:

"Excuse me," he said slowly, "there must be a mistake. Where's the option for the Dominion Guard?"

"That position is unavailable right now," the officer replied flatly.

Silas sat back, stunned. "But, that's impossible! My instructors back in District Thirteen said you were recruiting for the new class at the Elite Guard Academy!"

"We were, but now we're not. The Chancellor isn't looking for any more recruits this year. And honestly..." Officer Fender Plate looked him over doubtfully. "I just don't think you're built for that sort of job. Take it from me; you're better off doing something else."

"What? No!" Silas balled his hands into fists on top of the tablet. "I took that entry test to get my first assignment just like everyone else. I met all the requirements. I got all the right grades. I trained in every physical education class my facility offered." Hurt flashed in his eyes. "Look, I know I may not be the biggest or the strongest guy, but being a soldier takes more than brute strength and growing up in the privileged inner districts. It takes heart, cleverness, courage, compassion and I have that. I know I do."

The officer looked down at her folded hands. She said nothing.

Silas couldn't believe this. He had come all this way and trained for years for this moment, and now the opportunity he had dreamed of his whole life was slipping through his fingers like water. He leaned forward, desperate.

"I've trained for this my whole life. I can do this. I am ready. There's more to me than what you see at first glance. Just please. Give me a chance to prove myself." Officer Fender Plate stared down at the tablet, then slowly met Silas's eyes.

The young man held her gaze, refusing to back down. They examined each other wordlessly for a long moment. Finally, she sighed. "You seem to have a pretty clear idea of what you want, don't you?" Silas nodded.

She pulled the tablet out of his hands. "Silas, was it? I hate to burst your bubble, but life isn't that simple or that fair. Determination and training may have gotten you this far, kid, but they can't magically turn you into someone you're not. I'm sorry, but we really don't have a place for you at the Elite Guard Academy."

Silas's heart sank.

"However..." she continued, "there may be something else that fits you better." She scrolled to the bottom of the list and pointed to a selection. Silas stared at it, then nodded weakly.

"Good choice," she said. "You'll receive a message with more details about your assignment in an hour. Thank you, and enjoy your stay in MetroCity."

"Thank you," Silas replied softly. He shook her hand and left the Office of Public Service.

He tried to keep his chin up. He was lucky, all things considered he could've been assigned to sewage duty or factory shifts. Still, the encounter left him more discouraged than he wanted to admit. An hour and a half later, because government officials were never on time. Silas was waiting in line for his morning ration in the dining hall when he finally heard the notification chime in his earpiece.

"Silas from District Thirteen, your assignment is the Emergency Rescue Division, based in Central Metrocity of District One. Report for training next sunrise at 6:00 A.M. at the MetroCity Rescue Training Facility, Room 4A. Visit the Department of Housing before 4:00 P.M. today to secure your living quarters."

All right! First day of the rest of my life, here I come! Get ready, MetroCity you're about to get the best rescue worker you've ever seen! Silas cheered internally, fighting to stay optimistic. He looked out the window at the busy, unfamiliar streets of the massive city and smiled nervously. Right after I figure out where the Department of Housing is. And this time, I'm not getting lost!