Gaius coughed awkwardly. I rate this pick-up line one out of five. You sound like a shady slave-trader, even if you clearly aren’t!
Nakama, however, clearly had a different reaction. “Is there food?”
“Yes!”
“Are there beds?”
“Yes!”
“Do we get to go to school?”
“Yes!”
“Do you want to be my dad?”
“Ye—No! What are you trying to make me say?!” The man shot a pleading glance at Gaius, clearly perplexed by his little partner.
“But doesn’t a dad do all these?”
“The government wants to do all these for you, not me!” replied the flustered soldier. “We’re just here to shelter people and provide a social safety net for children!”
Social safety net…Gaius repeated that phrase in his mind. There was something anachronic about this concept, as though as someone had introduced it on purpose.
“But you are part of the government, right?” The little girl pressed on. “So you’re part of dad!”
“I can’t take this anymore, Sergeant! Help!”
An old man walked out and rapped the soldier’s head. “How useless, even a little girl could turn you insane. Go run laps around the parade square until I’m done!”
“Yes, sergeant!” The young man bolted off, clearly relieved to be freed from that little demon in disguise.
“Humph. Anyway, I’m Sergeant Wayne.” The old man squatted down, so that he was eye-to-eye with Nakama. “What’s yours?”
“Nakama, Sergeant Wayne!” Nakama’s chin was tilted upwards, as though as she was expecting praise, and Gaius trembled as he tried to restrain his laughter.
“Sergeant will do, little miss, but good answer. How ‘bout you, boy?”
“Gaius, sergeant!” Gaius himself found it odd that those words were rather natural to him, but he had treated everything in stride anyway. One more thing wouldn’t make a difference anyway, not with a bowl of steaming hot porridge within arm’s reach.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Wayne chuckled as he followed their line-of-sight to the bowl of porridge. With a simple snap of his hand, it flew over to an open table and landed solidly there. Nakama squealed and ran over; but Gaius’ eyes were wide open, his mind replaying what he’d just seen.
“Boy, have you never seen people use qi before?”
Gaius blinked once. Qi…was a type of energy whose conception had came from China. He had read a couple of Chinese novels about people whose lives revolved around qi cultivation as they sought immortality. But such a thing was reality here.
“Do I get to learn how to use qi too?” Gaius’ eyes blazed with fervour, and Wayne took a step back unconsciously.
“Naturally. It’s part of what makes a soldier a soldier. But even if you didn’t enlist, it’s under Common Law to teach all twelve-year olds how to cultivate.” Wayne sighed. “Although I wish we didn’t have to. Too many people die from being overconfident every year.”
Gaius’ reply was muffled — Nakama was currently forcing half a bowl of porridge down his throat. Wayne shook his head at this spectacle. For a moment, he was reminded of the children he’d recruited from orphanages years ago. Less than a quarter were still alive today.
He sat down on the table and waited. The war had ended as abruptly as it had started. The hole in his abdomen had barely begun to heal when his battalion had received new marching orders: to maintain law and order in the Ark City, and help clean up the streets by providing the homeless with a roof over their head.
Wayne’s mood turned bleak at the last part. The bunks that the homeless would be placed in used to house soldiers, who had later died in war. It was rather ironic that the aftermath of war would be used to fuel social initiatives later on, and to gather new blood.
But he had his orders. Wayne’s lips twitched slightly as he saw the bowl being licked clean, and said, “If the two of you are interested in being part of our social program, or to enter the military, come follow me.”
The little duo exchanged glances and hopped off the chair together.
Gaius, under a façade he couldn’t believe he had to use anymore, followed Wayne as he led them through a sea of round tents that looked Mongolian in origin. Their destination was a smaller lake of tents that surrounded a stone building around ten metres high. As they approached, two soldiers leaning against a fence straightened up.
“Sergeant, here’s the logbook.”
“Very good.” Wayne produced something that looked suspiciously like a pen to Gaius, and scribbled in the book that the taller of the two sentries passed over to him.
“Huh. There’s a lot of security here,” said Gaius, having decided to ignore the pen Sergeant Wayne had used. “What’s going on?”
Wayne kept the pen in his pocket. “The Congress…or whatever members of the Congress that are trapped here wanted to ensure that the quarters housing the homeless are free from non-governmental influence.”
“Why now?” responded Gaius. “What happened in the war that us homeless people became treasured commodities?”
Wayne glanced at Gaius. Silently, he led the duo past the sentries, towards a small tent and opened the flap. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? Basically, what happened was that we took a lot of casualties, and the higher-ups aren’t feeling really secure now.”
“I see.” Gaius released Nakama’s hand, and she promptly began to explore the tent. “Is there anything else we need to know?”
“The timetable for classes, if you want to attend them, are to the left of the entrance. Same goes for the rules.” The sergeant waved a hand. “See you around.”
Gaius’ eyes lit up as he examined the wooden tablet. “History, English, cooking, martial arts, cultivation, soldiering…and a whole bunch of odd jobs.”
“Gaius, Gaius! What’re you looking at?”
“Classes and odd-jobs we can do. Also, these are the guidelines…”