John was hungry, incredibly hungry as if he hadn’t eaten for decades. Twenty or so blocks of rations in his ward? All gone, including their matte green wrappings. He bit everything in the room but evidently metals weren’t tasty or edible. The data slate gave him a toothache. Cloths? He would be naked then.

The only way he could and had stave this unnatural hunger was to mentally calculate whatever equations given by the data slate. With no pen to write, he was forced to remember everything lest he forgot everything. He was battered by hunger at one side and plagued with numbers on other side.

The door to his room clacked open, “Well met, Recruit. You’ve recovered faster than I expected!”

“S…sir? Do you have, uh, more rations?” John was clutching his head.

The voice continued, “Hmm, no surprise here. Rations?”

“Y-yes. Rations. I’m starving, Sir. Please, please give me more.” He began to rock back and forth on his bed.

Said voice came closer, “Well…”

“Sir? Please, Sir. Plea- “John felt a cold prick on his neck.

Within seconds, John drifted into dreamland and collapsed on the bed. The visiting person took away his bare exo-skeleton and the data slate. Several hours passed until he was in possession of his senses again. What…what’s happening? He felt that he forgotten something but he didn’t know what was it.

When he opened his eyes, a familiar figure entered his vision. “Rise and shine, Recruit. It had been seven days.”

“Major? Uh…” John glanced at Karamazov, seated close to his bed.

“How many fingers is this?” The Major raised some of his fingers.

John was still groggy, “Er…three. Three fingers.”

“Three huh. Feeling great, young man?” The buff military man smiled at him.

He rubbed his eyes, “I…I think so? About the dicot thing…”

“Decon, Recruit. Decon-tami-nation.” Karamazov stared at John, “Like I said before, I saw potential in you, young man. But there’s a tiny problem with you.”

John’s stomach roared as the Major paused, “Because…where I lived, Major?”

“Exactly. Lieutenant Sasha broke some protocols-” Karamazov opened a ration bar and gave it to him, “by using what was for vehicles, on you. So, I reprimanded her and fixed you up. Feeling better?”

“Famished-” He ravished the bar and continued, “Uh…what’s important is…I am alive, right?”

“I like your optimism, Recruit John Smith. Thought you’ll be in lalaland or something.” The Major laughed.

He swallowed the last bit of the ration bar, “Uh Major…it doesn’t like I have any choice…am I? But it doesn’t change the fact that Lieutenant Sasha and…Major, saved my life.”

“Well let’s put it that way. Still, we’re in the Army, you’re in the Army, and you need to be prepared.” Karamazov leaned back on his chair.

John looked at the tough man, “Can’t I know…why? Why me? Why recruit?”

“The fact that you’re good at math skills is good enough for a reason.” Karamazov gave John a slight nod before turning serious, “As for why, why we’re recruiting…I can’t divulge that, Recruit. Orders from the top. Not until you meet our standards.”

“Umm…okay. So…what should I do now?” John glanced around, trying to look for the white data slate.

Karamazov stood up, “Same as before; build up your stamina and muscles. Can you stand up, Recruit? Still hungry?”

“I’m not as hungry anymore, Major.” John complied and stood next to the Major, “What about my friends?”

“Friends? Oh, you mean Recruit Gunther and Lucas? They’re fine, just some bruises and two.” The Major left the room, “Nothing our triage can’t fix, haha.”

“Okay, Sir. Should I visit them? Lieutenant Sasha said…” John followed the bulky man.

“You can, if you want. But I want you to build your muscles, or at least stamina.” Karamazov lead John out of the triage station, “If you can’t run, you’re dead. Ought to have some stamina, young man.”

The ex-slum dweller was more confused, “Run, Sir? Why run? We, uh, have exo-skeletons, right?”

“So, you can escape better. Like you said, what’s important is that you’re alive and you stay alive.” The Major stopped in front of an electric cab.

John sat behind him in the cab, “Major, why am I hungry? Too hungry before?”

“Humm, how do I put this-” Karamazov scratched his non-existent beard, “As I said before, we had some liberty with you. As it was, a single punch will send you to the E.R. So, we did something to help you.”

He swayed his arms and legs but there was nothing different about them, “Am I a robot now?”

“Close, but not close.” The Major nodded at passing personnel, “You’ll find out soon. Right now, focus on bulking those scrawny muscles.”

“Why can’t I know now, Major?” John exited the transport with Karamazov, “Uh…somehow, you made me able to make a data slate do stuff, is it? Remotely?”

“One of its perks.” The Major stood in front of John’s quarters, “But knowing too much, too soon is also not good. Build up yourself first, physically. I’ll double your rations too, so don’t worry about that part.”

“I am being tested, am I?” The ex-slum dweller entered his quarters at Karamazov’s gesture.

The Major smiled at his question, “Always, young man, since you’re a special case. What allowed you to be here is your math skills. Whether you last or not, depends on you. Or, your muscles.”

“Sir said I am conscripted?” John asked and stopped Karamazov from leaving.

The buff man had another chuckle, “Yes, conscripted. Make full use of this chance, Recruit John. Usually we use guys like you as target practice.”

“I... I will do my best, Sir.” He said after the departing figure of Karamazov.

John took a deep breath; there was again something different about himself but he can’t point what was it. He was still feeling hungry, feeling pain from his empty stomach and can walk just fine. Oh, this hunger, twisting hunger. He quickly ran into his kitchenette and saw Major Karamazov did upheld his promise.

There were forty ration blocks now, all lined neat and clean in the shelving. Propelled by his hunger, John ate four blocks until he choked on the fifth one. Keuk! Where’s water?!! It took two glasses of water to stop the coughing. With that done, he put the half-eaten fifth ration down as he was satiated.

“A new data slate?” John saw a purple object on his table, “Uh…no. Better if I leave it alone. How can I build my muscles?”

Apart from the kitchenette’s pantry and the new data slate, there was no other visible changes. Wait. Major said I’m still being tested. John opened his personal closet and found there was a new addition of stuff, a set of exercise devices next to his Recruit Kit. His bathroom had more towels than before.

“Should I run...or lift weights?” He stared at the exercise device and then the data slate, “Or learn? Why with this secrecy?”

His door ringed, “Private Gunther requests da-permission to enter.”

“Wait a moment-” John moved closer to the door and it opened automatically, “Uh, never mind. Well met, Private…Gun-ter?”

“Oi! Lucky you! You got your own dumbbell set huh?!!” The blond Gunther forced his way in and grabbed some of the dumbbells.

John slowly backed away, “Well uh…yeah? So…why are you here, Sir?”

“Gunther’s fine.” Gunther began to flex his muscles with it, “Lieutenant Sasha told me to check you.”

“Oh…well, I’m fine as a horse! Ha-ha…sort of.” Sasha did? John found it hard to believe.

The blond muscle man put down the dumbbell, “Me under you now, Boss. Heard Major Karamazov like you. Lucky man.”

“I’m not sure about that, Sir. Major gave me a mission-” John replied.

Gunther interrupted, “Gunther, Boss. No need for Sir this, Sir that.”

“Okay? So…why boss?” John watched him putting the dumbbell back down.

Gunther tilted his head upwards, “Cause that’s what da-Army said, Boss. You’re da-boss.”

“Uh, okay. So…where’s Lucas?” John asked in return.

The muscled recruit sat on John’s chair. It creaked. “That sissy boy? Stuck in his quarters, saying this and that. He’s angry, Boss.”

“He wanted to be the leader?” John raised his eyebrows, “He can be one, if he wants-”

“Yeah no, Boss. Army rules’s rules. Nuthin’ that sissy can do, ha!” Gunther interjected again.

John facepalmed, “Right…the Army. We’re in the Army. So…what’s next?”

“What’s next? Aren’t you da-leader or sumthin, Boss?” Gunther flexed his biceps at him, “Train muscles, Boss? Be like me!”

“Err…Major Karamazov did say I need to have some muscles. What do you think, Si-, I mean, Gun-ter?” The ex-slum dweller glanced at Gunther’s bulging muscles.

For some reason, he continued to flex despite being seated. “Esy-pisi, Boss. You got da-communicator, right? And da-slate.”

“Yes, I do.” John rummaged his closet and found it, “But…. I have a question.”

“Shoot. Anythin’ I know, Boss.” Gunther stood up as the chair was dangerously bent.

John focused his mind and the new data slate lit up, “You see?”

“See what?” Gunther looked at him with confusion.

He sighed, “The data slate lit up when I think about it.”

“OH! That’s what you want to know, Boss?” Gunther wore a sagely expression, “It’s nothin’ big. Standard issue too!”

“Standard issue…. what?” This time it was John’s turn to be perplexed.

Gunther tapped his own head, “Standard issue noggin. What, you didn’t read about it? It’s in da-black slate.”

“Major Karamazov didn’t tell me. Lieutenant Sasha neither-” John frowned, “They only gave me missions.”

“Ugh, where do me start-” Gunther crossed his arms, “Boss, think it as remote in your brain, like, open da-slate.”

“Okay. Then what?” The ex-slum dweller became more confused.

His guest shrugged his shoulder, “That’s it. That’s what I know, Boss. Anything else, they told us to train first. Build muscles. I already have them muscles, so they told me.”

“Really? Why can’t they tell it from the beginning?” John shook his head in disbelief.

Gunther shook his head too, “Compatibility they said. Not everyone makes the cut, Boss. And then stuff like oposux, opesec or sumthin-”

“What happens to them that faile-wait, I don’t want to know.” John then changed the subject, “Are you okay with me being the leader, Gun-ter?”

“Hey, rules’s rules. Me thinks I’m one but if da-Army said so, that’s it.” Gunther pointed at himself and then pointed at John.

After an awkward pause, John replied. “Er…. okay? So…err…training?”

“Yeah, boss. Big and strong. Bigger, stronger, faster. Like me!” For some reason, Gunther slammed the floor and began posing in all sorts of styles.

John backed away again. What’s the deal with this muscle freak? “Your…. recommendation? Oh wai-”

“Glad you asked, Boss! One hundred sit ups, one hundred crunches and one hundred paces!” Gunther switched from doing sit-ups to running in place.

John facepalmed again, “Uhh…okay. If you look at the time, it’s curfew time Gun-ter!”

“Really? Tally ho then, boss! Look at da-communicator later!” Gunther left as fast as he came.

What a weird guy. It wasn’t even the designated curfew time and yet Gunther believed him. John felt better that he’s smarter than the muscle brain but at the same time he feared for the future. Lieutenant Sasha said Gunther was from a noble house and that left it wanting; he was too gullible.

When he thought what Gunther had said, goosebumps were raised on his skin. A chip in the brain and you didn’t even know or ask for it? This wasn’t what he expected, no, not at all. He washed his face for a refresher as things were hard to accept. Were the Army recruiting for soldiers or test subjects?

Words from Major Glapov came into view; he should think on how he would survive this. Major Karamazov had hinted that if he managed to achieve the Major’s expectations, perhaps he could learn more. He looked at the so-called communicator, some sort of black box no larger than his own palm.

With a click sound, the box revealed a platinum-coloured, one-eyed piece. This certainly looked different from the fin-like thing he found in the slums, that was some kind of communicator albeit broken. He put it on his left ear and it projected a holographic visor and extended a microphone tip.

“I see you know how to use the communicator.”

John felt his heart jump, “Major?!”

“Yes, one and only, Major Karamazov. Next time, read the operations’ manual, young man.” The Major chided him.

The ex-slum dweller looked to the side, “Uh…okay. Wait, I have a question, Sir.”

“Tell me, Recruit. About your training routine? It’s in your new data slate.”

“Um no. Just now, Gun-ter visited me and said-” He looked at the slate and found said information, “That I have a ‘noggin’ in my head? A chip?”

“He did?” The voice paused a bit, “About the ‘noggin’, don’t worry about it, Recruit. Build up your muscles and stamina first. That’s an order. I expect you to finish what’s listed. You have one month.”

“Yes…yes, Sir.” John replied before the connection was cut off from the other side.

Another grumble from his stomach. John put the device back to its box and perused the pantry. It took two more ration blocks to quell the protest. How will I train if I keep eating? Yet another conundrum as when he put two by two together, he would spend more time to eat rather than training muscles.

John looked at the data slate again and reviewed what he should do; there were five regimens being listed. One item caught his attention, fasting. One of the training regimens apparently included fasting for some reason he cannot fathom. He ignored that first and decided to lift some weights, half a kilo dumbbell.

Evidently it wasn’t the best of ideas; the dumbbell slipped his hands and nearly flattened his foot. He picked a lighter one this time, half the previous weight. It took some effort to start but gradually he became accustomed to it. He worked this out for an hour before taking a break as sweat had built up.

A quick shower later and a change of clothes, John paused the training regimen; if he blindly followed it, it will make him a muscle freak like Gunther. No. I still like math more but…A tough decision. After several minutes, he threw all caution to the wind, to do both at once. And this prompted a new plan of training.