The clock struck six, Lsis woke up from her slumber, put on her clothes and went into the living room. Her parents and, for some reason, her younger brother Ngulo were already at the dining table. Their pet pig Smooch lay languidly next to Ngulo’s chair, its snout dirty with mud; the cretin must have gone out digging a snow pit for itself again. The tiny radiobox sitting on the shelf next to a bag of dry lichen powder was broadcasting their company’s morning news; Lsis knew her mother was not fond of the Division broadcast, always insisting that the more local news source the more useful the information. The newscaster’s dulcet voice echoed between the roof beams:
“...in other news, as for Thirteen 27th, the motion filed by He. Boroxao for the Geneticist faction of Medicalism to establish their own Discipline of study has once again been struck down by the Church. The Interdisciplinary Congress announced on Monday that the Geneticists have still yet to provide a satisfying scientific proof that falsifies the uniformity of human race across all genuses. The spokesperson from the Discipline of History spoke out against the Geneticist in a public statement, stating that there hasn’t been an unalloyed genus haplogroup amidst human population since the prehistoric Insula civilization. Suffice it to say, the debate of Geneticism goes on…”
“Have some breakfast before you go, bud.” Her mother said to her, “long trip ahead.”
“It’s only three hours, ma. I’m just heading to the capital to buy some groceries.”
“And that’s a long trip, like I said.” Her mother laid out some food for her, protein bars, curdled milk and meal bugs, “your brother was quite envious of you heading for the capital.”
“Ngulo couldn’t even speak properly ma! Besides, he is going to school soon, no?”
“Your madam was just jesting,” said her father, who pulled down all the curtains before seating, “now, let’s eat. May the light of Falsification help us confute the famine.”
“Umkalib, Shumzukly (defuse the truth, believe in falsehood).” The family said their prayer and ate. Everyone kept their eyes on their own plate, even Ngulo kept his ingestion to himself and remained as quiet as a three years old could be; last time Lsis was home, Ngulo was staring at her eating, making everyone at the table uncomfortable.
After the meal, Lsis got dressed and packed up for her trip to the capital. Her father handed her a few boxes of ammo.
“Barter for some quilts and silk. Your mother’s company saw quite a drop in their down production this year. Not as many ducklings running around as we would have hoped.” Her father said, “don’t get frostbite. Oh,” he seemingly recalled something, went to fetch a tiny medal with the phrase Highest Production of the Week Award inscribed on top and handed it to her, “get a snack or two in the capital. There won’t be many chances for you to saunter the downtown street this leisurely.”
“Pa, this is your bonus of the week.”
“Yes, I know,” her father simply smiled, “and my daughter is home this week, and she is going to a university next month. Confident about the upcoming final exam?”
“Yes, papa.” Should she tell him? About her wanting to pursue the Discipline of History as a liturgical clerk? Her father was a proud assembly line soldier, seeing that this wasn't the first week he had earned that medal; what would he feel if he was to know her daughter would abandon the military and turn to the church, adopt the prefix H.?
Well, she was his daughter, afterall; at least when women entered the church they tended to ascend through the democratic chain of command rather than descend it. Lsis decided against telling her father and simply gave the old man a quick hug. Smooch ran to her feet.
“I’m sorry Smooch. Don’t got no snacks on me.”
The pig just nuzzled her on the leg; combing through its bristled hair with one’s hand felt funny. Smooch was a special one, a runt of the litter, Lsis’ mother took the thing in out of sheer pity, ready to send it back to the offering quarter once it matured, yet it had been living under this roof ever since. Lsis ruffled its tummy a little before putting on her insulated coat, kissed her mother goodbye and exited the building.
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It was minus twenty degree celsius out, and at least minus one point five on the sunlight. The Bhgau Index, named after its creator the venerated saint Bhgau the founder of the Discipline of Geology, was a metric measurement of sunlight availability (3+: The sky is entirely clear and the sun is clearly visible. 2+: The shape of the sun could be made out through the clouds. 1+: Some areas of the sky are significantly brighter than others. 0: The sun’s exact celestial location cannot be identified with bare eyes. -1: The dust clouds are pigmented or dark gray to black. -2: Unsafe without man-made light sources. -3: Indistinguishable from midnight). As an avid history student, Lsis read that there hadn’t been a single day in human history when a two plus or above was recorded; scientians believed that there hadn’t been a three plus day on Stripea since the Illadst eruption.
It took a good twenty minutes walk for Lsis to reach the village’s main road where the company truck was waiting; her hands were freezing beneath the thick down gloves, and her boots were wet with snow. The driver poked his head out the window and greeted her: “Good health, lass! You’ve been home this week? Haven't seen you around much, miss uncle Ou’s driving yet?”
“Someone is gonna get tossed off the cargo bed today, ain’t it?” Lsis tossed the man a bullet, “that’s all I got today.”
“Full metal jacket?” The driver moaned loudly, “good girl, you know these things are going cheaper these days right? Can’t even get a scoop of powder from this thing!”
“I guess you just have to pray the tribesmen ramp up their assault again,” Lsis said, “what, are you not gonna take me on? That’s really all I got!”
“Yeah, right. You mother is gonna kill me before I reach 54,” the driver rolled the window back up, “hop on in. Don’t knock the cargo.”
The truck’s cargo bed was seated with children of Lsis’ age, all heading back to their school, and boxed cargos, the labels on which Lsis could barely understand; they were minerals, coals, and mainly drinkable water, all turn-in for the capital. A small fire barrel sat in the center of the cargo bed, a small ruby gem could be seen reflecting crimson light amidst the fire; the ruby-lite essentia stones were good for increasing heat radiation, and not much else. The younger kids clustered around the fire while the older ones sat on the edge to shield the young from the breeze. Lsis sat at the tail end, her legs hanging off the ledge of the truck.
“You lass all good back there?” The driver’s voice was muffled by the glass window.
“Aye aye!” The children shouted in unison.
“Alright! Here goes!”
The Ishkau tundra was seemingly boundless; the once green savannah that gave birth to humanity was now just a cold, lifeless desert. Only cypress, creepers, and inedible lichen occasionally breaking the monotonous of the gray snow; the pictures on Lsis’ history textbook looked straight out of a pulp fantasy fiction, how the megafaunas roamed the savannah without human ever needing to intervene for their survival; they called them “wild animals.” On the horizon, the artificial light of nearby companies and battalions struggled against the darkness, even the truck’s headlight could barely light up the snow plain ahead. Lsis started to regret only giving old Ou one bullet, truck drivers must be some of the toughest occupations within the army.
The children on deck were all mutual acquaintances, most coming from the same school in Company 36, which left Lsis in a pretty awkward position. To combat boredom, she decided to eavesdrop the conversation between the two older children standing right behind her; not an easy task amidst the deafening noise of the truck’s engine and its wheels plowing through the snow.
“So did Jwemb fall through, or nah?”
“No… I don’t think so. Jwemb of company 39, right? I know at least three different Jwembs from my class.”
“Yeah, company 39, kinda tall, protruding brows, collapsed forehead?”
“Em… yeah, no. Sista didn’t even manage to make it to the clerical exam, I don’t think. I even bloody told him. Discipline of Mathematica, yeah alright, the guy couldn’t even pass a seventh grade advanced geometry course.”
“So where is he going?”
“I don’t know. They said he would be a great fit for an assault soldier…”
“Arky…” The voice noticeably shuddered, certainly not from the wind or snow, “I don’t want to bear the guns… if they send you to the eastern front you will be so screwed, I tell ya.”
“They could also send you to the eastern front without a gun, you know, they can just enlist you as a farmer or a miner. Unless you somehow convince them you are ethnic, hey, there’s an out for ya. If you ask me I would much rather bear the gun than heading East with a goddamn spade.”
“Easy for you to say! You are a girl!”
“We have male commanders and saints, Pabmai, you don’t have to fret?”
Lsis’ eyelids were heavy. She scooped herself closer to the fire and slumbered against her ginormous backpack; it was getting colder, despite their truck heading North, not a good sign, and the sunlight was dropping, this would be a dark day. Everytime she thought she could get used to the trip to the capital she was proven wrong; might as well get some sleep in then. She asked the young kid sitting right next to her, who looked not a day over nine years old, to watch over her so she would slip off the truck. The kid simply nodded and Lsis went sound asleep.