It's been ten years since I was a broken thirteen-year-old in that prison. It's been ten years since I was a new recruit trying to find my place in the rebellion. It's been ten years since Ari and I first realized we could die together. 

It's been ten years since the communist resistance was just starting to blossom into a formidable storm of rage. It's been ten years since we were just an annoyance to the status quo. It's been ten years since they underestimated us. 

It's been ten years since I first picked up that high school chemistry book and read it in the sun by a window. 

The resistance really started picking up speed the year that I joined it. Veritas, the land controlled by resistance fighters, grew more and more each day. The borders we had to patrol and secure grew longer and longer, grew more numerous. And so did the fabric of people patrolling them. 

We kept getting new recruits. Recruits we rescued from prison. Recruits we freed when we took control of the land of their ex-owners. Recruits that escaped by themselves and found their own ways of joining us. 

Of course, many people who were rescued by us didn't join the resistance. We forged them secret identities. Our IT people are really amazing. The legend is that the resistance itself was founded by a pair of synths who secretly learned how to code. Anyways. We forged them secret identities. And they lived their lives pretending to be freeborn citizens out in the world. Often they spied for us here and there, and helped our operations in other ways. That help was invaluable. 

As more and more territory fell under our control, the government tried harder and hard to bring us down. And missions got more dangerous. Mark, myself, and the other medical staff always had our hands full with patients after most missions. But we had more medical personnel too. And better-trained personnel. We could save most people. 

I am a fully-formed doctor now. I read all the textbooks and learned all the things. I also learned so much by helping and watching the nurses and doctors as they treated injuries and diseases. All this hands-on practice gave me the guts I needed to be an effective medical professional. 

I love my job. It's beyond my wildest dreams to get to be doing this work. And I'm an inspiration to the new generation of young, freed synths who want to pursue education. 

I am also able to have my voice heard. And my poems circulate throughout the resistance, being told by word of mouth from one neighbourhood to another. It helps keep the morale up. To share poems and sing songs. I try to not let the praise get to my head. It's just my way of contributing. Everyone has their own way of contributing. 

I'm not just a doctor and a poet but also a soldier. We all are. Ari and I go into battle together. With our laser guns and jet packs and shields and bombs and grenades and sonic piercers. There are so many weapons. And new weapons to learn about each year as the rebels and the government compete in an arms race. Battle is chaotic and terrifying and difficult. But it's thrilling in its own way. 

And my parents escaped too. Three years after I initially joined the resistance, three years after I was rescued from the prison cell and the prison of my childhood, Ella and Sam joined us here in Veritas. Three years of missing them terribly, finally over. I visit them very often, trying to make up for the many years where I didn't have them nearly as much as I needed. And I'm glad they haven't died yet.

Ari's parents died, in an attempt to escape, but they saved his sister Laurie, and she's here with us now. I hugged them both as they were grieving. The grieving will never truly end. 

I've watched dozens of comrades die. The grief is almost unbearable. When I was a young recruit I was never prepared for this sort of grief. Not when I was a thirteen-year-old deciding to stay with the resistance. But at the same time there's a sort of victory to the loss. They died. Of course. But they died as free people. They died standing on their feet and standing against those who sought to oppress them. 

I'd be honoured to die in such a way. Even though I still fear death. We all do. 

Elsa died. She died honourably, shielding her unit from radiation. She was an IT person before her death. And she helped dozens of people get onto official registers and into a free life as citizens. She was a fighter, through and through. In every part of her life. And she always told us that it was her destiny to die in the war. 

We'll see her again in the Green Place. 

Finn is still with us. They are an agricultural specialist. They work hard and they fight harder. But they work and they fight freely and with dignity. For a cause they truly believe in. Thanks to them all of our people are fed. All of our people can stay healthy. They can heal. Finn is also a very selfless, brave soldier. They've gotten injured so many times trying to keep others safe. And thankfully, thankfully, they've healed each and every time. 

Ryden died. David died. But Rachel is still with us. Aside from being our unofficial leader, though she denies this vehemently, she's also a super soldier. She's a force to be reckoned with. 

Ari is a weapons technologist when he's not in battle. It takes such a sharp, complex mind and such a fine hand to be able to manufacture weapons that can take on the government and its militaries. Ari's ex-owner would never dream of him being able to do this. 

Besides being a weapons technologist, Ari is also my husband. It gives me such joy to be able to call him this. Him and I got married on my eighteenth birthday. There were some people who told us to wait. Told us that this was too early. But we'd been together for five years at that point. And we'd known each other for eight. More waiting seemed like overkill. 

Our wedding was done in the traditional Veritas way in the traditional Veritas religion. Under a half-dome formed by people's joined, raised up hands and with a cutting and joining of our ring fingers to mingle our blood. We looked into each other's eyes and we spoke our vows and it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. 

There was singing and dancing and laughter all over the block. A Veritasian priest made a speech about the transformative power of love and how it can heal all wounds and right all wrongs. Ari and I felt the love we had for each other. Felt the love that the community had for us and that we had for them. Felt the love that united all synths and freedom fighters the whole world over. And we danced. 

Our wedding night was in the medical supply room. Next to the pile of textbooks I got my education from. It was the perfect place. 

We attended other weddings. And they were all such joyful, momentous occasions. 

I've also attended victory celebrations for when a major battle was won. They were meant to boost morale and celebrate our sacrifices. But they never had that effect. They were always celebrated when the memories of fallen comrades were fresh in our minds like blood on the pavement. But still, there was dancing. And there was a sense of relief. 

And we celebrated victory celebration after victory celebration after victory celebration. 

Meanwhile the Veritas religion also grew and developed along with the resistance. People got visions of the afterlife and visits from the dead. We congregated together to decide what our values were and what we stood for. New forces and experiences joined us and fleshed out our worldview. 

Just like the old-time communists we based ourselves off of, the central tenants of our worldview are always equality, community, and universal love. 

Slowly my faith grew along with our faith. I became more secure. More sure. That the good in this would was more powerful than the bad in it. That we would ultimately win. I became more sure of the afterlife and of miracles and of the overcoming power of love. 

And my spirit soared. It hurt and grieved and feared and remembered the past. But it also raged and danced and soared. 

And I was exactly who I was meant to be in this world. 

A warrior, a husband, a friend, a poet and a healer. 

And here I am now. In the back of a transporter. In my light body armour that protects my core. Beside Ari and Davina and Colton and Trissa and Valencia and so many other people. We are on our way to a communications tower controlled by the government. If we can get that tower a large chunk of the government's communications will be cut off. That will be a huge win for us. 

The transporter we're all standing in rocks this way and that as it gets hit with enemy fire. It's strong enough to withstand almost anything though, and just keeps going. If only our armour were made of such strong materials.

We all sing a Veritasian prayer as we fly closer and closer to where the battle is already raging. Our voices are low and solemn and beautiful. I make sure to get a good look at my comrades, because this might be the last time I see them. 

The determination and the fear are almost tangible. 

Finally the transporter wall lifts open and we stream out into the battle occurring within the control rooms of the communication tower. There are people sprawled out all across the floor and around the sky, and laser shots flying in every direction, with deflection walls coming into existence and being cancelled out and misdirectors firing every which way. It's fast-paced and confusing and chaos. 

Deadly, beautiful chaos. 

Adrenaline sings through me as I activate my shield by pressing my chest controls and and take to the air on my jet pack by lifting my shoulders. Immediately my shield is hit by shield cancelling rays from the enemy side. I duck and weave through enemy lasers as they fly all around me. I throw sheild cancelling rays at enemy shields and shoot at them before they get their shields back up. I try to avoid shield cancelling rays from the other side. 

Lasers burst against my shield in small explosions of light. Weapons sing and scream around me. Everything inside me is on high, precise alert. It's exhausting and terrifying and maddening and magnificent. My breath catches in my chest as lasers bounce off the very edges of my shield. Mere millimeters awy from gaining access to my soft, fragile body. 

I spin and turn and duck and bend and zip and glide my way through the cavernous light gray. 

I see Colton get hit by a laser. 

"For Veritas!" He screams with the last edges of his life. My heart thuds in my chest. It's a horrible, ghastly sight. The blood spilling from him bright red against the gray floor.

I see an enemy soldier die too. It soothes my heart. I suppose that's awefully callous of me. But I have no kindness left over for those who have taken so much from me. From us. 

We press forwards, getting farther and farther down the large gray halls until the huge metallic feet of the communications tower is within sight. All we have to do is fly up and blast the tower. Once we gain access to it. Which won't be easy at all. 

The owners bring in reinforcements, just as our own side did with us. Soldiers dressed in the burning red of the government forces tumble in and take flight. I barely notice their faces. Only their positions and their aims. 

But one of the soldiers makes me do a double take. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Straight nose. Is that Arden?! It doesn't matter. I just have to keep pressing forwards. 

Suddenly the enemy soldier that looks like Arden does something that surprises all of us. He flies up to the top of the tower and hits it with his ray gun and lasers. 

The enemies are flabbergasted, and they still for a moment. Us rebels use this moment to shoot many of them. It's a chance we've never had before. One we may never have again. To kill so very many soldiers.Once their numbers thin out, we fly towards the communications tower. 

In this moment they come back to their senses and start shooting at us. But we shoot back. They're outnumbered and outmatched. We keep on gaining ground. 

The traitor soldier is shot out of the sky and he falls to the ground. It's only a shoulder wound, thankfully, but those can hurt. But two of our soldiers take his place at the top of the tower. 

The battle rages on and my armour gets torn and my ribs get grazed. But eventually, eventually, we take out the tower. We fight our way back to the transporter. And we bring the traitor with us, still bleeding. 

We are unable to take Colton's corpse. We will have to hold the funeral without a body. Something that we have to do far too often. Something that Veritas has a ceremony for. 

He's in the Green Place now, with the martyrs and yearners. 

I do first aid to all the injured soldiers. Pressing bandages onto their wounds. Rubbing poultices onto their cuts. Getting the injured into resting positions. Soothing people's minds. 

I get to take a good look at the soldier who betrayed the government as I press healing creams and cotton onto his shoulder, holding them in place with medical tape. He looks strikingly like Arden. Like an adult version of Arden. 

But no. That can't be. Arden would never betray the government. Would never fight for the rebels. But still my past rears its ugly head to haunt me. I feel so small in front of him. But I do my job. Because I have to. 

Just like when I was a child. 

Soon enough all the soldiers are dropped off into their own compounds and the medical rooms of our compounds are full. I go from compound to compound treating the most serious afflictions while nurses work around me. 

The traitor soldier is kept in an isolated closet, because people don't fully trust him yet. He's not injured seriously enough to warrant my seeing to him. It would be better if I saw him but he'll survive as he is. Even if he has to fight for it. 

He creeps me out too much. So I try my best to ignore him. 

Once everyone is in a stable condition, us medical personnel can rest.

So I sleep.