POV Seth

Of the male population, ten percent never served thanks to the exemption laws that allowed the wealthy to buy their way out. The argument was that the high-price tag for freedom helped raise the standards of living for a huge segment of the population. In his bitterness, he supposed he ought to be thankful that the wealthy elite had to pay the full-four years per child. Having a large brood, all with paid exemptions, was one way for the elite to flaunt their wealth while claiming that they were re-investing in society. He supposed in their own way; they felt it was true. Whatever helped them sleep at night, while their children tormented those who had to serve the Nation.

Yet, there were no mental health services available for returning soldiers. As for health issues, most were forced into cyber genetics to compensate for loss of limbs or worse. The Cyber Enhanced were barely considered human, but were more accepted over their unhinged Genetically Enhanced counterparts.

Surviving the war was his first step. His quality of life post-war was likely going to be grim, but at least he’d be alive to complain about it.

“According to our records, your squad-mates had received no correspondence regarding the war notice.”

“You also have no records of the multiple instances of the notices I received. I think it is safe to say we can’t count on your records.” He couldn’t help himself. To him, the facts were clear as of the last session. He could not trust her or her interpretation of his situation.

Seth sat back in his uncomfortable, narrow, rigid designer chair. He crossed his arms, but dared not lean too far back for fear of falling out of the horrible piece of furniture. It, too, was a piece of psychological warfare, designed specifically to force him to lean forward in order to keep his balance. Forcing him into a position of supplication, subconsciously opening his receptiveness to her soft statements. The act of leaning forward toward the speaker is a sign of interest, if not in the conversation, then in the person themselves, which basically leads to the same result.

When he lifted one leg to rest across the other, he was happy that he hadn’t fallen over. He consciously took up as much room as he could in his small chair, subliminally boasting of his confidence. He was almost on par with the graceful dominance of the therapist’s chair. If he stood, he’d tower over her small stature, his chin reaching the height of her chair. Her dark throne demanded attention and exuded importance.

She lowered her tablet into her lap as her thin lips pinched together, silently telling him to remember her authority over him and that he must keep a respectful tone.

“Have you served?” He asked, feeling that she very much deserved every bit of his frustration. How could she possibly know what he’s going through if she felt that the notice was a trivial occurrence?

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Of course.” Her gaze returned to her tablet.

“You’re lying. You are not married; exemption status from mandatory breeding and exempt from the war efforts. It’s on your public record,” Seth countered. When he was given his first appointment, he researched his good doctor. She probably figured most wouldn’t have bothered, and she’d be right. This time her gamble betrayed her as a liar.

“You resent people who contribute to the war effort in other ways,” she stated, dulling her lack of contribution to something ephemeral.

“How many lives have you saved? Just so we have some sort of metric,” Seth spat.

“I save lives every day. With every story, every worry, every breakup. I help people like you navigate troubled periods in their lives. I’m here to help you get through your crisis.” Doctor Yan said it with a straight face but hadn’t bothered to so much as glance in his general direction. She must have rehearsed that tired speech a million times. She didn’t believe it, and neither did he.

Just like the bulk of his team, she had a way out, and she took it. She took it because they offered it to her, and she could afford it. Not just serving in the war; he couldn’t blame any woman who knew the odds of opting for a breeder’s track, but she shunned even the basic responsibilities of maintaining the population, let alone contributing to the viable soldier pool. By refusing to have children she ensured that the only person who could benefit from her wealth was her.

“Does your squad know that you resent them?”

No. He didn’t think he resented them. Although, given the way his hands shook, he knew that the mandatory service was going to change the way he looked at his teammates. He took a deep breath, not caring if it betrayed his annoyance with her. He wondered if he resented them deep down. Wallace, Gemma, and himself were the only three on his team obligated to serve. No one in their families had enough money to buy their freedom. Technically.

Seth’s father had plenty of resources to his name. Seth couldn’t recall when or how he had come to learn of the war and his service in it. He wasn’t sure when the fear of survival embedded itself so deep that it compelled him to find the optimal way to survive.

He hadn’t been aware of the exemption clause until long after Mallik Wright, his father, had stopped talking to him. Despite his fear of dying in the war, he was terrified of what his father would ask of him in exchange for the exemption. Afraid as he was of dying, bartering his survival in exchange with indentured servitude, under Mallik’s ever offended eye, didn’t strike him as a life worth living. He was lucky to have lasted this long. Mallik was exceptionally hard on his staff. Seth had seen what had remained of his nannies.

On the Killing Fields at least he had a chance of survival and freedom.

Seth smiled to himself, just a little, at the thought that he was perfectly okay with living without several of his limbs, and even dying if it meant he’d never see Mallik again.

He supposed he had that much in common with Hope. Hope’s family could afford the exemption and the tuition, but refused to pay for either. Hope refused to do the things her family wanted and opted to forge her own path. Every year, they’d welcome her back, hoping that she’d change her mind. She’d play with her legions of cousins and return to the Academy every year with new exciting stories of sibling rivalries and familial intrigue. All things Seth never had.

“I wonder if I made the right choice in recruiting people who have nothing to lose,” Seth admitted. It wasn’t an angle he considered before. It didn't matter. At least he didn’t think it mattered.