As I was pacing around my apartment, there was a knock on the door. Expecting my stepmom, I opened it, but to my surprise, it was Star. Her name always sounded more like a codename than a real one to me, but hey, who am I to judge?

Star wasted no time getting to the point. She reminded me of the favor I called in from Mitchell and now she needed my help. I thought about saying something sarcastic like, “A government spook needs help from a civilian?” But then I remembered Mitchell’s warning. Star, his mother-in-law, knows a hundred ways to kill someone and make it look like natural causes. So, I decided to keep my sarcasm in check.

I had a hunch Star was asking for my help because of that call I made the other day. The operator sounded like a customer service rep trying to keep a customer happy, which left me clueless about what was really going on. So, I asked Star directly, but she kept it vague, speaking in that cryptic way that made my brain spin. It felt like she was pulling the “I helped you twice, now you owe me” card.

I don’t know Star well, but since my cousin Mitchell is married to her daughter, I figured she must be pretty relaxed and nice. Maybe it’s that grandmotherly trope—women who are tough as nails with their kids but turn into softies with their grandkids. Some of my friends say their parents were strict, but their grandparents were lovable. Maybe it’s age, or maybe they just don’t want to overstep their boundaries as grandparents.

Star struck me as someone who might have wanted more kids but ended up with just one. A quick glance showed no engagement or wedding ring, which made me think she might have been married once, a one night stand, had a fling, or a short-lived relationship. But honestly, her personal life isn’t my business. She just seems like the kind of woman who would have wanted a big family. But again, that’s not for me to say.

I agreed to help Star because, well, she had helped me twice before. In this country, if someone calls in a favor and you help, you’re expected to return the favor. If you refuse, you can’t ask for their help again without repaying your debt. So, I figured it was best to help her out.

Star strikes me as the kind of mother who supports her daughter’s life choices. Cadence, her daughter, is a stay-at-home mom. Some of my friends back in the States might not approve of that, but to me, it’s all about personal choice. From what I know, Cadence is a great match for Mitchell.

I’ve seen some women back home who get caught up in messy situations, like wanting to marry an old fling while pregnant with their ex’s child, and then putting their current fiancé on the marriage certificate. It’s a recipe for disaster, especially in the age of social media where everyone shares their side of the story. People end up calling each other crazy for thinking such things are okay.

But Star, she seems different. She’s supportive and understanding, which is probably why Cadence is so happy. And honestly, that’s what matters most.

People have choices, and what they choose to do as a career is up to them. In my country, since the end of the First World War, women have outnumbered men. The ratio was 1.5:1 before the Second World War, and it became 2:1 before the Army allowed women in combat roles to fill vacant spots.

I told Star I’d help because she had helped me twice before. It was time to repay the favor.

After turning off the lights and locking my apartment door, I asked Star what was going on. She mentioned the corrupt cops that Mitchell and Starlight work with. They had targeted Cadence as payback against Mitchell and Starlight. They couldn’t get to Starlight because her family lives far away, and she’s the only one in Clearlake.

I shook my head and asked how Mitchell was handling it. Star told me that Mitchell’s best friend, Jack, had locked Mitchell in an empty spare room at his house. In his rage, Mitchell had caused $1,000 in damages to the room, which had nothing in it but walls and a door. Star translated that to $7,366.76 in US dollars. Clearly, Mitchell wasn’t taking it well. If someone can destroy an empty room, it speaks volumes about their state of mind.

I think they took Cadence because she’s a pacifist, someone who believes in non-violence, and she’s married to Mitchell, who is trained in the use of violence due to his military background. It’s a stark contrast that might have made her an easy target.

I asked Star what Jack and Sam were up to, and she was blunt. They thought locking Mitchell in an empty room at Jack’s wife’s house was the best way to handle him. Star mentioned that Jack is a lucky man because his wife is a Little Bird Marine instructor who trains the next class of Marines. Even though Jack and Sam are Little Bird Marine Commandos, Jack knows he has to keep his wife happy. She has a short temper, and the house actually belongs to her father, who bought it as a wedding gift for them. Her father, a mafioso, put her name on the lease.

It’s quite something that Jack’s wife is a Marine Drill Instructor and his father-in-law is a mafioso. I remember seeing military recruitment posters at Arcane University, and the Little Bird Marines one said, “Marines are the backbone of the Little Bird Armed Forces, either for national defense or first in any military offense.” It’s a tough world they live in, and it seems like everyone has their role to play.

I told Star that Jack was lucky his wife wasn’t home. She’s away for Marine training, which lasts fourteen weeks because the Little Bird Military avoids the number thirteen. If she were home, I’m sure she’d have some choice words for him.

Outside my apartment, I noticed another woman standing by Star’s car. I recognized her as my cousin by marriage, Emily, who’s married to my cousin Jimmy “James” Richard Waterson IV. Their marriage is like a match made in heaven. Emily comes from a toxic family, and James IV had an abusive mother and stepfather. Their similar but different backgrounds seem to have brought them closer together.

James IV’s story is quite something. His mom planned to take her then-husband’s military life insurance money, but James III knew about her infidelity with her boss. Tragically, James III died in an experimental aircraft accident, but not before changing his life insurance beneficiary to his son. Fourteen years later, James IV received $10,000 from the Air Force and another 17k from a person's life insurance, despite his mom and stepdad suing him for the money. It’s ironic how abusive parents want their kids’ money.

James IV’s mom and stepdad even tried to change his name to match his stepdad’s. Legally, they succeeded, but James IV kept signing his name as “Jimmy Richard Waterson IV.” They also got rid of everything his dad had given him, except for a luxury watch worn by military pilots. It’s the one thing they couldn’t take away, and he still wears it proudly.

I climbed into the backseat of Star’s car, a classic blue 1958 Wasp Air, which looked just like a 1958 Chevy Bel Air.

“So, who’s watching Rose, Platinum, McKinney, and Rose?” I asked.

Star replied, “Their aunts Ashley, Lucy, and Natalie. I would have Luna watch them, but she’s not really into kids. She’s two years younger than me and doesn’t want to have kids, which is her decision.”

“Is it because she’s getting too old?” I asked, a bit curious.

Star replied, “I’m thirty-eight, she’s thirty-six.”

I was taken aback. I had always thought Star was in her late forties. I started doing the math in my head, but Star clarified, “I was born in 1972, and it’s 2010 now. So that’s thirty eight years.”

As Star started to drive, I broke the silence. “So, what do you two want to talk about?”

Emily chimed in, “We can talk about carriers.”

“Like aircraft carriers or disease carriers?” I asked, half-jokingly.

Emily smirked, “What do you think?”

Given our backgrounds, I figured she meant the former. Aircraft carriers are always a fascinating topic, especially with our military connections.

As Star drove, Emily started talking about how, in late 1943 and early 1944, the Little Bird government gave Blister Canyon two C-Class Carriers. Back then, Blister Canyon didn't have the resources to build massive ships like battlecruisers, battleships, or aircraft carriers. They didn't realize how fragile carriers could be, even though Little Bird Naval Planners had considered hypothetical scenarios like rockets and planes crashing into ships, which became a reality during the Second World War.

In the summer of 1944, the Blister Canyon Navy made a critical mistake. They positioned an ammunition ship between the two carriers, and when the ammo ship exploded, it took out both carriers with it. It was a devastating loss.

I knew Emily was referring to the Cadence-Class carriers, but she just called them "C-Class Carriers" because Star's only daughter is named Cadence. It was a subtle nod to Star's family, and it made the conversation feel a bit more personal.

“Hey Star, if you don’t mind me asking, were you ever married?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Star glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Besides that being a personal question, yes, I was. But I left him faster than dropping a hot potato.”

I thought about probing further, but Star continued. She explained that she wasn’t going to stay married to someone who believed his word was law. Her husband never let her get a word in edgewise; it was always his way or the highway. Star decided to divorce him so she could raise Cadence in an environment where she wouldn’t grow up thinking the husband is always right and she should just do as he says.

I felt there was more to the story, but I decided not to press further. Star had her reasons, and I respected that.

Star then shared how her husband had told her that if she came home on her hands and knees, begging for forgiveness, he might consider letting her off the hook. He even threatened her with signed divorce papers, saying he could send them out and leave her on the streets. But the joke was on him—Star had already signed the divorce papers herself and sent him another copy. Somehow, she managed to keep the house.

It sounded like her husband wanted to mold her into a 1950s housewife or something out of a religious cult where women are seen as second-class citizens, expected to cook, clean, have kids, and obey their husbands. The husband would have the final say in everything.

It reminded me of some friends who are in religious cults that preach gender unity and a happy married life, but behind closed doors, it’s a much harsher version of a 1950s nuclear family. It’s a tough situation, but Star raising Cadence in a healthier environment is commendable.

I asked Star how she managed to keep the house, and she explained that it was under her name alone. By law, the house was hers. Even though she and Cadence moved out, she rented it out. As long as the bank got their monthly payments, they didn’t care, as long as the cops weren’t involved.

Curious, I asked if she would have put Cadence through college. Star said she would have, if Cadence wanted to go. She would have preferred a college with a high acceptance rate over a prestigious one. But she also mentioned that she didn’t care if Cadence went to college or not, pointing out that many people have successful lives without a college education. I agreed with her. Back at Arcane University, many of my classmates had parents who insisted on a college degree for a successful career. My dad, however, always said a college degree is a 50/50 shot—it might lead to a great career, or it might just land you a minimum wage job outside your field.

My professors echoed this sentiment. They said a college degree could be a golden ticket to your dream job, but it’s not a guarantee. Some jobs require experience or a degree within a certain timeframe. For example, becoming a therapist requires a degree in mental health and a license, but not everyone is hiring mental therapists. My girlfriend’s mother was a therapist for a while, but that’s another story.

Emily shared that she has a degree in business management, which she earned in just two years. She’s been helping her boss run his business since she was fifteen, back in 1995, and she’s still his employee. Her parents had forced her to go to college, but after a car accident with her friends, they saw it as a sign and refused to let her continue. So, she ran off to the Army and used her benefits to pay for college. Her boss never let go of her position and welcomed her back after four years, holding her spot.

He had considered replacing her, but most candidates were focused on rapid expansion—opening new cafes before the existing ones could pay off. Emily and I share the same mindset; open a place, make it profitable, and only then expand. It’s about ensuring each new venture is sustainable before moving on to the next. This approach ensures long-term success rather than quick, unstable growth.

Emily shared how, after she left the Army, her family came out of the woodwork demanding her “Army money.” She refused, and even when they sued her, their case fell apart because she wasn’t legally obligated to support them. She mentioned that she and James IV don’t have kids yet, partly because Ft. Suction is still under reconstruction from the war, and they’re not in the mood to have kids at the moment.

Then, Emily decided to tell the story of how she and James IV met. But she said that the moment she and James decided to marry she changed her surname faster than a heartbeat.

I then asked Emily to share how she and James IV met so she started a story starting on July 21st, 2005 starting at 8 AM but Emily did warn that she would be saying her maiden name not her husband’s last name. To me I didn’t care either way but to me it says something when a woman changes her maiden name to her husband’s name quicker than someone can blink or more faster than a millisecond that says how messed up her family is.

_________

EMILY THOMPSON’S POV, JULY 21ST, 2005

As I walked towards my job at the café, the distant sound of gunfire barely registered. Just another skirmish between the police and gangsters, I thought, something that had sadly become all too common.

But then, everything changed. The ground shook as artillery shells began to rain down, exploding with deafening roars. War might seem fascinating on TV, but up close, it’s a nightmare. People around me stood frozen in shock and disbelief. Imagine your workplace reduced to rubble, your car flipped over like a toy, and your friends lying lifeless in the streets.

The terrifying rumble of a tank echoed down the street, only to be silenced by a direct hit to its turret. I watched as members of the Ft. Suction Militia scrambled out of their damaged tank, abandoning it in a hurry. These militia members, often deemed unfit for active military service due to physical disabilities, were equipped with outdated gear from the early Cold War era, relics from 1945-1957.

The reality of war hit me hard that day, shattering any illusions I had about its distant, impersonal nature. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the chaos that can erupt without warning.

The tank exploded moments later, likely due to a fire reaching the wet ammo storage or a self-destruct mechanism. The Little Bird Military trains its armored units to destroy abandoned vehicles to prevent them from falling into enemy hands, so it could have been either or both.

Soon, the sky was filled with the roar of multirole jets from the Little Bird Air Force. They performed gun runs, unleashing their 30mm Gatling guns, dropping cluster munitions, and firing guided and unguided missiles. The chaos was overwhelming.

Instead of heading to work, I decided to run back to my apartment, dodging falling bombs and artillery shells. It was unclear whether the artillery fire was from the Ft. Suction Militia or the invading army.

I used the buildings as cover, sprinting down the street. Suddenly, a loud, terrifying sound echoed as a building collapsed nearby. I kept moving, knowing that what was happening was beyond my control. It was clear this wasn’t a live-fire exercise; it was real, and it was terrifying.

After a while, I made it back to my apartment building. I told my neighbors to go back into their apartments, lock themselves in, and stay away from windows and anything glass to prevent injuries from concussion blasts. I warned them to stay away from the glass to avoid getting hurt.

I finally made it back to my apartment and headed straight to my bedroom. There, I pulled out my M1905 Bolt-Action rifle, the standard issue for the Little Bird Military from 1905 to 1935. The sniper variant, which has been in service since 1907, is still used today. This rifle is notorious for overshooting, requiring the shooter to aim lower to hit the target accurately. Fortunately, I was well-versed with it from my time as a Little Bird Army sniper from 2000 to 2002.

I enlisted for 36 months and used the Army money to go to college. However, an accident caused me to miss my college application finalization, including decisions about living arrangements. My friends and I were in a car accident, and while I was in the hospital, the police and hospital staff tried to contact my parents and other family members, but no one responded. The hospital asked for my consent for surgery, and I agreed because it was either get surgery to keep the ability to walk or delay it and risk permanent paralysis.

After the surgery, my parents found out and sued the hospital for "violating their wishes." They weren't religious, so it wasn't about that; they just wanted control. The case was thrown out because I was eighteen and legally an adult. Missing my college application deadline, my family claimed it was "a sign." Once I recovered, I decided to join the Army.

When I left the Army and started college for business management, I received a salary of $75 a week from the Army. Suddenly, my parents and the rest of my family reappeared, demanding my "government money" and Army benefits. It was clear they were only interested in what they could get from me.

I pulled open the bolt of my rifle, and a 220-grain Full Metal Jacket 7.62×63mm round ejected. I caught it mid-air and slid it back into the chamber, closing the bolt with a satisfying click. Little Bird Army snipers favor high-grain bullets for their extended range, and standard issue for all soldiers is FMJ ammo, except for CQB specialists who use double-ought buckshot.

As I grabbed a box of ammo, memories of my job at the café flooded back. My parents had tried to convince me to put their name on the café for "tax purposes," but I refused. I was just an assistant manager, not the owner, and even if I were, I wouldn't have agreed. They didn't understand the struggle of getting that job when the café first opened, barely scraping by with few customers. The owner couldn't afford ads in newspapers, radio, or TV. My cousin, who briefly worked there, hated the job and was fired after two weeks for demanding pay without doing any work.

Opening the ammo box, I thought about how my family always wanted more without putting in the effort. Many of their businesses failed because they were built on fraud and deceit. They even tried to convince me to "borrow" money from my boss, but I refused, knowing they would misuse it.

With as much ammo as I could carry, I prepared to fight the invaders. Living on the top floor of my apartment building provided a perfect sniper's perch. It was time to put my skills to use and defend my home.

The skyline was now a haunting orange, with smoke billowing in the distance—a stark contrast to the clear blue sky from earlier. I waited, rifle in hand, for the invaders to appear. Soon, I spotted soldiers accompanied by Infantry Fighting Vehicles. I took aim and began firing well-aimed shots.

As I fired, my mind wandered to my family. Some of them flaunted brand new luxury cars, while my parents, during my high school years, only got me a one-month bus pass, citing "financial hardships." Yet, they had no problem buying a vacation home. They even used wedding funds meant for one child to remodel another's house or fund their vacations.

In the Army, my true family was the men and women of E Company, 14th Infantry Regiment, 31st Infantry Battalion, 5th Infantry Division. We used the World War II Military Alphabet, so E stood for Easy, not Echo. Those bonds were forged in the toughest of times, and they meant more to me than any blood relation ever could.

As I continued to fire, I knew I was defending not just my home, but the values and camaraderie I found in the Army. Living on the top floor of my apartment building gave me a perfect sniper's perch, and I was determined to make every shot count.

The sniper variant of my rifle was ingeniously designed. The bolt was bent in a way that allowed me to load a five-round stripper clip without the scope getting in the way, making reloading much faster than loading individual rounds. Whoever came up with this design was a genius. If someone tried to put a sniper scope on a standard model, they’d have to load each round individually, which would be a nightmare in a firefight.

As I lined up my shots, aiming to hit two invaders with one bullet, my mind wandered to how inhumane and insensitive my family could be. Some of them, when they become grandparents, demand that their child and in-law give up their newborn to an infertile sibling. To me, that’s fifty shades of fucked up.

Each shot I took was calculated, with some bullets ricocheting off the armor of the Infantry Fighting Vehicles. When I reloaded for the third time, I heard running outside my apartment. I took cover behind my kitchen’s granite wall and aimed at the front door. When it was kicked open, I didn’t hesitate. I fired and cycled the bolt like it was second nature. There weren’t many invaders, just a few who had taken advantage of my reloading time to storm the building and run up the stairs.

It was time to move. Sniper training drilled into us the importance of relocating after each shot. My patio had been the best position, but now it was compromised. Shooting from the kitchen window would have been uncomfortable and exposed me too much. I grabbed my Phoenix pistol, the Little Bird licensed version of the M1911A1, a weapon issued only to Officers, Scouts, NCOs, Vehicle crews, Mechanics, Pilots, and snipers.

I closed my apartment door behind me, the sounds of gunfire and explosions still raging outside. As I made my way out, I couldn't help but think about how life throws us curveballs. My family has always been a source of frustration. They all showed up at my college graduation last year, demanding tuition money. I remember it like it was yesterday. I told them I worked hard, joined the military to get into college, and my job at the café paid the bills and groceries, leaving me with some money for myself.

I had consulted a lawyer, who confirmed that I wasn't obligated to help my family financially. If I chose to, it would be of my own accord. They couldn't force me to give them money; legally, that would be extortion.

With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I made my way out of the building, ready to find a new position and continue the fight.

When I reached the front door, I opened it just in time to hear the unmistakable rattle of a machine gun firing up the road.

"To hell with that," I muttered, quickly closing the door. I decided to head out the back, slipping into the alleyways to navigate around the chaos.

As I made my way through the alleys, I was stopped on the street by an Army guy on the back of a truck.

"Hey you! With the rifle! Hop in if you want to help!" he shouted.

I climbed onto the truck, joining several other civilians. As the truck started moving, the soldier introduced himself. "Alright, listen up. I’m Sgt. Carther, Ft. Suction Militia. I’m not keen on using untrained civilians, but the Soviets didn’t give us much time to mobilize."

After a few minutes, we arrived at a barricade near a subway station. The truck backed up, and Sgt. Carther gave us a choice: head down into the subway to grab a weapon and fight, or get on the subway train that would depart soon.

I chose to join the Ft. Suction Militia at the barricade. Some civilians joined us, even though here in Little Bird, men are required to serve in the military unless assigned to different careers. Regardless of their roles, everyone goes through the same basic training, so even military cooks and intelligence officers have fired a rifle.

With my rifle ready, I prepared to defend our position. The camaraderie and determination of the militia reminded me of my time in the Army, and I knew we had to stand together to protect our home.

In front of us were abandoned cars and trucks, engines still running, their occupants having fled in a panic. Luggage and personal belongings were left behind, scattered in the rush to escape. From what I know about military evacuations, people are told to “bring the important stuff”—identification and essential documents like birth certificates. The open doors of these vehicles were a testament to the chaos and fear gripping the city.

Many people likely ran down into the subway, hoping to catch a train south to Fisher Island. The island, 6.91 miles across, houses 25,730 people in prefabricated homes and apartments. The only ways to reach Fisher Island are via I-15 or the underground subway trains.

My time in the Army taught me that the Little Bird Armed Forces are trained to flood subway tunnels to slow down an enemy’s advance, a tactic reminiscent of the Germans during the Battle of Berlin. Flooding the tunnels would prevent the enemy from using them to move troops and supplies. Additionally, the Little Bird Air Force would likely use laser-guided bombs or strategic bombers to destroy the three asphalt bridges and four railroad bridges, further hindering the enemy’s progress.

As the invaders came into view, I took each shot with precision, but my mind kept drifting back to my toxic family. I remembered my short-lived relationship with a boyfriend who aspired to be an author. My family pressured us to break up, constantly saying, “Authors and writers don’t make a lot of money.” They ignored the fact that successful authors can earn a lot, especially if their books turn into movies. Ironically, many of the fantasy movies my parents enjoy originated from books.

Despite the breakup, my ex and I remained friends. He even used my first and middle name in a book series about a woman in a toxic family. Naturally, my family sued him, but they didn’t get far. Since he changed everyone’s names and details, and because of “freedom of speech” laws, they had no case.

Each shot I fired was a reminder of the battles I’ve fought, both on the battlefield and in my personal life. The invaders were just another enemy to face, but the real struggle was dealing with the people who were supposed to support me. As I continued to defend our position, I knew that my strength came from overcoming these challenges, and I was determined to protect my home and my future.

I know exactly how much I despise my toxic family. No matter how far I run or how much I try to stay under the radar, they always find a way to show up and cause trouble. I live a quiet life, and I'm well aware of how messed up they are. Thankfully, I don't have anything they can use as collateral, like a house or a car. They're the type to take out loans and put their property up as collateral without telling anyone. Worse, they take out loans in their kids' names, ruining their credit.

At least I live in an apartment and use public transit, so they can't use anything of mine for collateral. Plus, I've set up safeguards to protect my credit. I get notified if someone tries to use my credit, and I have two-factor verification in place. My bank also calls me to confirm if someone tries to take out a loan in my name.

Some of my family members have even had visits from the feds because here in Little Bird, taking a loan out in someone else's name without their knowledge or permission is a federal offense, treated as seriously as bank robbery. It's a small comfort knowing that there are consequences for their actions, but it doesn't erase the frustration and anger I feel towards them.

Sgt. Carther informed us that we needed to buy the Engineers at least fifteen minutes. They were double and triple-checking the wires, which meant they were preparing to cave in the tunnels and flood them with water from the river that connects to the Pacific. The Engineers had also turned off the pumps that normally prevent the tunnels from flooding.

Even though I joined the Ft. Suction Militia as part of a hasty defense, some civilians had also taken up arms with outdated military weapons. It reminded me of the Volkssturm, the German national militia formed during the last months of World War II. However, unlike the Volkssturm, these civilians already had military training unless they were labeled as 4F, unfit for service.

Here in Little Bird, every city and town has a Militia composed of men and women unfit for active military service. The Militia is similar to the British Home Guard during World War II. Little Bird used to have a Home Guard for each of its five Commonwealths, but they were disbanded and reorganized into individual town and city Militias.

We held the line, and a Militia member brought up an M241 General Purpose Machine Gun. That thing is heavy, but it's a beast—air-cooled, gas-operated, electrically fired, and linkless-fed, firing 7.62mm rounds. The Militiaman set it up in a position with a wide field of view, perfect for suppressing a large group of enemies. Machine gunners are trained to suppress multiple targets, not waste ammo on just one.

As I reloaded my sniper rifle, my thoughts drifted to my family. Some of my male relatives served their wives with divorce papers after accidents left them quadriplegic or needing help to move. My family shows their true colors eventually—they might seem charming, but they're like trolls under the bridge. Despite my toxic family background, I stayed friends with their ex-wives, showing them my true, kind nature.

Many of my family members are unfaithful spouses. In Little Bird, an "At Fault" country, divorce due to adultery leaves the cheater with nothing. Some of my female relatives are on the "false accuser" list, accusing others of serious crimes without proof. I've seen good men in the Army have their lives ruined by false accusations. The problem is, if someone transfers to a new command, even if they're found guilty of lying, it doesn't follow them.

I know men who deliberately hurt themselves to avoid military service because the military wouldn't act against false accusers under a new command. Some even sued the military, and it got so bad the government had to mediate. Little Bird has limited conscription in peacetime and extensive conscription during wartime or crises. If it got out that accusers could ruin lives and escape consequences, more men would injure themselves to be deemed unfit for service.

That's the thing about my brain—no matter how busy I am, something from my past always manages to creep in. When I was in the Army, Military Police Investigators often asked one-sided questions, clearly biased against the accused. They didn't like answers that painted the accused in a positive light. If it ever got out that an investigator asked misleading questions to make a false accuser look good, it would be a scandal. A skilled investigator should gather evidence from both sides and make informed decisions, then pass it up to the military equivalent of a District Attorney to decide on pressing charges. Watching old cop shows at friends' houses, I saw detectives doing thorough, unbiased investigations, unlike the biased questioning I experienced.

Just the other day, while closing up the café, my parents stormed in, demanding I pay for their vacation and house renovations. I told them to hit the road—literally. Things got heated, but my boss, a genuinely nice guy, stepped in. He warned my parents that if they didn't leave me alone, he'd get the company attorney involved. They weren't scared until he mentioned that the attorney charges $4k just for a consultation and $2k per hour. That got them to back off because they couldn't afford a legal fight against such a high-powered attorney.

My boss also pointed out that if the lawyer got involved, my parents might have to take out a loan to pay my legal fees. Given their credit, the bank would turn them down immediately. In fact, 99% of my family is blacklisted by every bank in Ft. Sunction. While it might sound like discrimination, banks are businesses that need to make money, not lose it. If a bank refuses to service someone, it's because they know they'll lose money, not make it. My entire family is in debt, the kind that’ll make a global recession blush in embarrassment.

Soon, the invaders brought up tanks and other vehicles. "T-55s!" Sgt. Carther shouted. Instead of waiting for the engineers to finish checking the wires, he ordered us to head down into the subway and get on the train. I refused, but then the two trucks we arrived in blew up. The Militia was following the Little Bird Military doctrine; destroy your own equipment rather than let it fall into enemy hands. Radios, vehicles, medical supplies, food, water, ammo—anything valuable to the enemy must be destroyed. I've heard stories of Little Birden soldiers throwing thermite grenades into their own artillery to make them inoperable, welding the guns shut.

While the Militia members and armed civilians headed for the subway, I decided to take a different route. I went underground through the sewers. It was a risky move, but I knew the sewers well enough to navigate them. As I moved through the dark, damp tunnels, my mind kept drifting back to my family and their relentless attempts to control and exploit me.

I thought about how they always managed to show up, no matter how far I ran or how much I tried to stay under the radar.

As I made my way through the sewers, I knew I was fighting not just the invaders, but also the ghosts of my past. The toxic family dynamics, the constant manipulation, and the relentless attempts to take advantage of me—all of it fueled my determination to survive and protect my home. The sewers were dark and treacherous, but they offered a path to safety and a chance to regroup and continue the fight.

I could hear the chaos above—gunfire and explosions echoing through the streets. But that’s the unpredictable nature of life; no two days are ever the same. The muffled explosions against the walls signaled the tunnels caving in, just as I suspected. The river water was flooding the Orange Subway line, cutting off a crucial route the invaders could have used to send troops and supplies to Fisher Island. With the tunnels flooded and the bridges soon to be destroyed by the Air Force, the invaders’ advance would be significantly hindered.

I had a feeling the Militia would try to bog down the invaders on the bridges, creating a perfect target for the Air Force to strike. Destroying the bridges while they were packed with enemy forces would be a devastating blow, killing two birds with one stone.

A few days later, we found ourselves holed up in an old mechanic shop, where we had set up a TV. The news was grim; the city now had a collaborator mayor who sided with the Communists. He was trying to make the Soviet invaders seem more palatable, urging resistance fighters and Militia members to lay down their arms, promising they’d be treated well if they surrendered voluntarily. To me, that was a load of baloney. The Soviets were broadcasting propaganda, encouraging us to surrender, but the guy doing the broadcasts sounded bored out of his mind. I wasn’t buying any of it.

The collaborating mayor also mentioned that those who surrendered would be held at the city’s detention center. Whether it was a slip or deliberate, it gave us a target. Now we knew where to strike to liberate those who surrendered or were captured.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that if the Soviets won, it would be like one of those late-night alternative reality shows where the USSR wins World War II and turns against the Western allies, forcing occupied populations into “re-education camps.” Those shows touch on non-family-friendly subjects like PTSD and the true horrors of war, things that daytime war shows and movies sanitize. They show the real, gritty side of conflict, which is why they’re aired late at night, away from young eyes.

I even read comics with an Adults Only rating because they depict the lawlessness of the wasteland and cover topics that most stores wouldn’t dare to sell. Mostly because said comics deal with things like with narcotics and nonconsensual sex.

I set up in a deserted office building, ready to provide sniper overwatch for our hit-and-run rescue raid. This time, I wouldn’t have the luxury of loud explosions to mask my shots. At least the sunlight wouldn’t reflect off my scope, unlike the unrealistic glints often shown in movies and fiction.

The plan was for me to take out the south-facing machine gunner first. I aimed carefully, and when I fired, the bullet pierced through the Soviet soldier, ricocheted off the asphalt, and hit the north-facing machine gunner in the leg, likely severing an artery.

That first shot signaled the assault to begin. Our team moved swiftly, overwhelming the two barricades with ease. The element of surprise and our coordinated efforts paid off, allowing us to free the captives and disrupt the Soviet forces.

Once both barricades were secured, I quickly joined the team, using a rope to navigate up and down an elevator cable. The Little Bird Air Force and Army Artillery had executed a scorched earth strategy, destroying fuel silos, electric substations, gas stations, and anything related to telecommunications, rail, and industrial resources. If the enemy could use it, we made sure it was destroyed.

I joined the assault teams as we stormed the place. The coordinated effort and the element of surprise were on our side. We moved swiftly and efficiently, taking down any resistance we encountered. The goal was clear: liberate the captives and disrupt the Soviet forces.

As we advanced, the chaos of battle surrounded us, but our determination and training kept us focused. Every step brought us closer to freeing those held by the Soviets and striking a blow against the invaders. The fight was far from over, but each victory, no matter how small, fueled our resolve to keep pushing forward.

We continued our systematic approach, clearing the building room by room to ensure each one was secure before moving on. In some rooms, we found captured Ft. Suction militia members tied to chairs. We freed them, one by one.

In one room, I found a guy dressed like an airman. I went behind him and used my knife to cut the ropes binding his wrists and arms, then moved to the front to cut the ropes around his legs.

“You okay, airman?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Fingers started to go numb,” he replied.

I knew he was a pilot when he put on a black leather jacket, the kind only Air Force pilots wear. He grabbed a pistol, the standard issue for pilots since cockpits are too cramped for long guns like carbines. Some might have compact submachine guns, but those are usually reserved for senior crew members on bombers or helicopters, not fighter pilots.

With the airman freed and armed, we continued our mission, determined to clear the building and rescue as many captives as possible. Each room we secured brought us closer to our goal and strengthened our resolve to keep fighting.

“What’s your name, airman?” I asked.

“4th, Waterson, Jimmy. Senior Airman, 32nd Multirole Fighter Wing, service number 77741980. I just need to get back up there,” he replied.

“You know how to use a gun?” I asked.

“Went through basic just like a normal infantryman,” Jimmy said.

“Sarge, we got company,” a resistance fighter called out.

I handed Jimmy an assault rifle.

“I got control of the stick now, Senior Airman. You’re just along for the ride,” I said with a no nonsense face expression.

“Yes ma’am,” Jimmy said, taking the rifle.

“What kind of Reds are we fighting?” I asked.

“Intel reports the Soviet 5th Shock Army. But with the rail tunnel flooded and bridges blown, the 5th Shock Army is stuck. The Air Force sank the ships they arrived on before they could unload much of their equipment, so they’re severely lacking in artillery and infantry support vehicles,” Jimmy replied.

That was good to know. The enemy wouldn’t be fully supplied and would have to make do with what they had, which was rapidly dwindling.

“Well, at least you haven’t said anything about getting out of here yet,” I said.

Jimmy sighed. “Lost some friends in the past and my father by tempting fate. Friends who were boots on the ground, saying they’d make it home from the war, only to be taken out by a mortar, artillery, or sniper strike. No points for guessing what happened to them. I’d rather keep my mouth shut. I’m the kind who just wants to see where today takes me, not make plans for a future I might not see. Had friends who always talked about their plans, and I’d just say, ‘We’ll see.’ Why make plans if you’re not sure you’ll make it back?”

His words resonated with me. In the chaos of war, the future was uncertain. All we could do was focus on the present and fight to survive another day.

I can make sense of that because why make plans for after a war if you don’t know that at any moment you can die in it. Yeah it’s good to have better thoughts but at the same time it’s better to think not too far ahead. Because nothing is set in stone.

Instead of engaging the enemy reinforcements, we opted for a tactical retreat, weaving through the urban jungle to lose any tails before making it back to our hideout.

I told Jimmy we could get him back across the river to rejoin the Air Force, but it would have to wait until nightfall to make the crossing easier. As darkness fell, we set out, navigating the shadows and avoiding patrols. Once we reached the river, we helped Jimmy regroup with the Army, ensuring he could be sent back on his way.

The night provided the cover we needed, and as we watched Jimmy disappear into the night, I felt a sense of accomplishment. We had managed to rescue captives, disrupt the enemy, and get one of our own back to safety.

Before Jimmy left, he shared some startling news. The President of Little Bird, who was asleep at the time, received a rude awakening from the General of the Army, who happens to be his half great-granduncle. The General informed the President that Soviet soldiers had used cargo ships to invade. He also delivered the shocking news that the Army was severely understrength because many soldiers were on furlough. The Army had to issue a massive recall, sending Military Police Officers to revoke furloughs and passes.

The President faced two tough options: pull the 15th to 19th Infantry Divisions from Europe, leaving their European allies defenseless, or use the available forces to barricade the Soviets in Fort Suction until the Army and other units could reach full combat strength for a counterattack. The President chose the latter, especially since the 15th, 17th, 18th, and 19th Divisions had already made an unapproved offensive move across the Iron Curtain from Southern West Germany into East Germany.

Jimmy mentioned that Little Bird’s allies have offered to send volunteers. Blister Canyon and Lava Falls, being in a military alliance with Little Bird, form a defense pact that I like to think of as “The Pacific response to NATO and the Warsaw Pact.” While NATO was founded in 1949 and the Warsaw Pact in 1955, the Blister Canyon Lava Falls Blister Canyon Defense Force (BCLFLBDF) was organized much earlier, around 1904. To me, the BCLFLBDF operates like a tactical game of rock, paper, scissors: Lava Falls specializes in heavy armor and weapons, Blister Canyon excels in electronic warfare and high-speed operations, and Little Bird focuses on precision fire, fast deployment, stealth, and robotics.

I do feel bad for the men and women of the Army who were on furlough or had approved passes only to have them revoked. I can imagine a guy walking out of a church with his bride, only to be approached by a 4x4 vehicle with Military Policemen informing him that his furlough or pass has been canceled. It’s a tough situation, but necessary given the circumstances.

As we continue to fight and adapt, the support from our allies and the resilience of our forces give me hope. Every decision and action we take is crucial in defending our home and ensuring a future free from oppression.

Jimmy handed me a radio, explaining that it could be used by the resistance to call in artillery strikes, precision artillery, airstrikes of all kinds, and request supply drops. I mentioned how friendly artillery had been landing all around the city, to which he replied, “No duh.” He explained that forward observers can only see what’s in their line of sight, so many shells land in parks or other unseen areas based on educated guesses from maps.

He also mentioned another option: paradropping the Tridents, Little Bird Navy’s equivalent to the American Navy SEALs, or the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th Special Forces Groups, and Operation Department Specialized Troopers also known as Silent Serpents. These elite troops can carry small walkie-talkie radios to call in direct artillery strikes in small areas, like parks or baseball fields.

With the radio in hand. We had powerful tools at our disposal, and every bit of coordination and communication could make a significant difference in our fight. The chaos of war was ever-present, but with allies like Jimmy and the resources we had, we stood a fighting chance.

But he also said not to be around where Soviet Artillery is because of Counter Battery fire because the Soviet artillery can reach and hit the Little Birden 105mm and 155mm guns and those guns can fire back at the Soviet guns but the Soviet artillery lack the range to hit the Little Bird Army and Marines 190mm and 210mm artillery guns which do have the range to hit the Soviet batteries.

Of course he also said how the military won’t give them a GPMG because some of them used captured American Machine Gun, Caliber .30, Browning, M1919A6 from World War 2 to Vietnam and that many of the GPMG are the type not used for covert action for obvious reasons.

________

Mackenzie “Macaroni” Waterson POV.

“So, Star, Mitchell tells me you have a file on me,” I said, curiosity piqued.

Star nodded, “That’s true.” She handed me a folder, and I opened it. The top paper read in bold:

LITTLE BIRD OFFICE OF INTELLIGENCE AND STRATEGIC ACTIONS

PERSONNEL FILE

LAST NAME: Waterson

FIRST NAME: Mackenzie

MIDDLE NAME: Nova

NICKNAME: Macaroni

GENDER: Female

COUNTRY OF BIRTH: United States, North America

DATE OF BIRTH: May 17, 1984

PLACE OF BIRTH: Ft. Bragg, North Carolina, USA

PLACE OF RESIDENCE (1992-2003): Killen, Lauderdale County, Alabama, USA

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

* Skin Tone: 02 (Caucasian, slightly sun-tanned)

* Height: 5’10.5” (179.07 cm)

* Weight: 210 pounds (95.25 kg)

* Eye Color: Emerald Green

* Hair Color: Dark Brown

* Hairstyle: Short Pixie

* Blood Type: AB- (AB Negative)

NATIONALITY: American

CITIZENSHIP: American-Little Birden Dual Citizen

MILITARY BACKGROUND:

* Branch: Navy, U.S.

* Role: Fire Controlman

* Assignment: USS Tricongdona

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE:

* Personality Type: Lone Wolf

* IQ: 103

EDUCATION:

GENERAL GRADES IN ELEMENTARY, JUNIOR HIGH AND HIGH SCHOOL: B and A minus

GENERAL GRADES IN ARCANE UNIVERSITY: B and A+

HONOR ROLL: EIGHT TIMES, FOUR BACK TO BACK FOR ALL FOUR QUARTERS IN SEVENTH GRADE.

I glanced up at Star, wondering what else was in the file and why she had it.

“Lone wolf?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emily explained, “Lone wolf means someone who works alone.”

“I have no problem working with a team,” I countered.

Star chimed in, “It’s because you’re not in a relationship where your girlfriend lives under the same roof. Hence the ‘lone’ part.”

“How do you have such detailed information on me?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Star replied, “The Office of Intelligence is more effective than the CIA and KGB/SVR RF combined. Mitchell probably mentioned how the Little Bird Office of Intelligence and Strategic Actions has eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Mitchell did vaguely say something about a ‘robust network of informants’ and how the country knows if an ally or neutral country is working against Little Bird interests. Sounds like something out of a bad CoD plot or if the Cold War was still going,” I said.

Star nodded, “Well, it’s like that because those who are close to you, those you think are your friends, can hurt you the most. As they say, keep your enemies close but your friends closer.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around—keeping your friends close but your enemies closer,” I corrected.

Emily jumped in, “No, it’s about who you associate with. Many so-called friends I had welcomed the Soviets as friends when they came to Little Bird back in ‘05. They quickly jumped ship and sided with the enemy, cheering them on. When they were later rounded up by Military Police from the 2nd, 5th, and 19th Infantry Divisions, they were executed for treason. They had been feeding intel to the Soviets, claiming to be resistance members. Aiding the enemy is a capital offense here in Little Bird.”

I was about to say something when Emily cut in, “Mac, you live in a country that has the death penalty for a lot of things—aggravated murder, the death of a peace officer, treason, aiding the enemy in time of war, contract killing, trying to or actually killing a high-ranking official. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

I hate when people call me “Mac,” but I’ve learned to live with it.

“So, Star, do your parents approve of you being a spook?” I asked.

Star replied, “My father died before I was born. When my parents crossed the Berlin Wall in 1971, my dad was shot in the back by an East Berlin border guard. My mom used the money they had to take a boat to New York City. Eight months later, in May of 1972, I was born. Two years later, in 1974, my sister Luna was born. We don’t know who Luna’s father is—either our mom didn’t want to say or just didn’t care. Luna doesn’t lose any sleep over it. She always thought we had the same father, but in reality, we’re half-sisters.”

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“My entire family, except for my husband and his extended family, is beyond toxic,” Emily began. “Calling them toxic doesn’t even do it justice. They do whatever they please, and when you need help, whether it’s mental or not, they don’t care. Seriously, they’re the kind who will ruin their kids’ lives for their own pleasure—taking loans out in their kids’ names and ruining their credit, or taking their vehicle without permission. When they get into an accident or do something that makes their kids’ car insurance premiums go up, they don’t care. They’ll do anything drastic to ruin their kids’ lives.”

Emily paused, her voice heavy with emotion. “I’ve got family members who escaped the toxicity by either going to a mental hospital or assaulting a cop just to get locked up. Instead of getting legal help, they’d refuse a trial by jury, admit to assaulting an officer, and ask for the maximum punishment just to escape. And just to make sure they don’t get out on good behavior they do the opposite like start fights with other inmates or attack Corrections Officers to keep adding charges to make their sentence as long as possible and if they were going to get parole they would do something to make the parole board revoke their parole,”

Emily shared more about her family, mentioning that some of her cousins, nephews, and nieces are in medium security prisons. She explained that in Little Bird, the guard-to-inmate ratios vary; one guard to eight prisoners in minimum security, one-to-one in medium security, eight guards to one prisoner in maximum security, and twenty guards to one prisoner in supermax. Her family members in prison for assaulting peace officers often pick fights to extend their sentences, but they’re smart enough not to mess with murderers or prison gang members.

It’s a drastic way to escape a toxic family—either by going to a mental hospital or assaulting a peace officer. Emily also mentioned how her parents would interrupt her and James IV’s dinners or outings, insisting that their future kids be named after them. But Emily and James IV aren’t rushing to have kids. They’re still deciding if they want children at all.

I suggested that Emily could live on base with James IV. From what I’ve heard, visitors on military bases need a month’s approval from the base commander and must wear a badge indicating they have permission to be there. Sneaking onto a military installation is a terrible idea, as it’s considered a serious offense, often resulting in being shot on sight. Only troublemakers and spies would attempt something so reckless.

Emily mentioned that any “disagreements” in her family are handled internally, much like how some churches, colleges, and police departments protect their own. She explained how accusations are often retracted through gaslighting or involuntary commitments to psych wards, similar to how dirty cops are shielded by the blue wall of silence and families protect abusers.

Emily also pointed out that colleges with low crime stats are often viewed suspiciously because many just sweep student reports of crimes under the rug. Fraternities and sororities, with alumni on the board, often get protected. I shared that Arcane University has the same problem. Senior students advise newcomers to go directly to the police instead of campus security, who often dismiss complaints and gaslight victims. Campus security is paid by the college, so they tend to follow the directives of those who sign their paychecks. In contrast, police officers are paid by taxpayers and generally held to a higher standard.

Star explained that she convinced Cadence not to go to college or university, not because she’s overprotective, but because she knows Cadence won’t fight back in tough situations. Cadence relies on her mother or husband for protection. Star mentioned that while she has the authority to use a $50,000 UAV drone with precision missiles, Mitchell’s response would be far more severe. He would make the wrath of God look mild in comparison. Star likened Mitchell’s potential reaction to the deluge myth, where a deity destroys civilization as an act of divine retribution.

Star shared a story about Luna trying to force Cadence to shoot a gun. The gun accidentally went off in Cadence’s hand, and the bullet hit Mitchell in the foot. Luna’s handgun uses frangible .45 rounds. Cadence apologized profusely, but Mitchell wasn’t mad at her. He supported Cadence, understanding that she wasn’t comfortable with guns.

Emily chimed in, saying, “Every yin has a yang.” Cadence is a pacifist who refuses to fight, even to protect herself, while Mitchell is the opposite—ready to fight anyone who threatens his family. Despite their differences, their relationship works because they love each other deeply. It’s a perfect example of how opposites can complement each other.

“How did Mitchell and Cadence meet?” I asked.

Star smiled, “They’ve been friends for a long time, since 1994 when they were four. They met in kindergarten. Their birthdays are close too—Cadence was born on January 20th and Mitchell on January 17th. They were friends for years but didn’t start dating until high school. Cadence had a boyfriend before Mitchell, but…”

“Let me guess, he used Cadence as arm candy?” I interjected.

Star nodded. “Yeah, Buck Withers was a jock who never really cared for her. Cadence had a lot of fake friends because she was dating a popular jock. When she broke up with him and started dating Mitchell, those fake friends disappeared. Mitchell and his friends were better football players than Buck anyway. Have you seen his friend Jack throw a Hail Mary? He can throw it 68 yards, while Buck can’t even manage two. Mitchell was a wide receiver in high school, and once he had the ball, he was gone like greased lightning. Buck, on the other hand, was such a terrible runner that the defense could walk and still catch up to him. Seriously, the defense could leave the game, get milkshakes, come back, and the same play would still be going on.”

I told Star that my dad and the rest of my family would hate Buck. They’re huge NFL fans, and many people here in Little Bird love to watch and play football too, often placing bets on games or the Super Bowl. If Buck had gone to college and tried to get scouted for football, no scout would have picked him. No one wants a player who can’t throw a football two yards or run so poorly that a snail could catch up.

Star laughed, “A four-year-old could do better than a 5’9.4, 195-pound man like Buck.” She went on to explain how the coach had to deal with Buck’s father, who was the principal and wanted Buck on the football team. The coach only selected players who showed real skill, so Buck ended up on the sidelines. The coach told the principal, “Buck is on the team, but nobody said he had to play.”

Emily explained that in Native Little Birden culture, particularly among the Aurora and Mountaneses tribes, kids have to earn their own merit rather than relying on their parents’ status. Being the son or daughter of the chieftain doesn’t grant any special privileges. In the Nightingale tribe, the culture is different: sons live with their mothers and daughters with their fathers, but they still have to earn their own merit.

I mentioned that my girlfriend’s mother is from the Nightingale tribe but didn’t bring that part of their culture into their household. She married a Caucasian man, and they decided to raise their daughter, Claire, together, respecting each other’s cultural beliefs.

Emily noted that the Nightingale tribe is the most militaristic of the four tribes and are always ready to fight. I agreed, adding that my girlfriend had told me the same thing, and it definitely shows in her personality.

“I know all about your girlfriend,” Star said. “Like how her daughter Lily had a bully, and Lusty went straight to the bully’s house to confront the parents. When they threatened to call the cops, your girlfriend told them that by the time the cops arrived, it would be 5-10 minutes, and if she got arrested, she’d make a public statement about how schools and the justice system turn a blind eye to bullies but blame the victim when they fight back. She’s from a district where people don’t just talk—they act. They’re not afraid to stand up to anyone, even the cops or the military.”

“How did that go?” I asked.

Star continued, “Lily’s bully never bothered her again. When you have 60,000 people ready to back you up and go to the media, it grabs attention. The kind of attention that makes even powerful people look foolish. Eventually, when the bully kept at it, Lusty’s old neighbors and friends from Eastside followed through on their threats. The bully’s parents were laid off from their jobs, and their social circle shunned them.”

Emily added, “Lily’s bully’s parents are the type who believe in being friends with their kids and never putting their foot down. When their kid turns out spoiled or entitled, they get a rude awakening when others enforce boundaries. Because that spoiled or entitled kid their parents pulled the ‘They’re kids’ card or pull the ‘Kids will be kids’ card and because those parents think it’s funny when their kids do it when they’re young but it’s not fun when they get older and by then it’s too late to punish because their parents normalized of not setting rules and saying what’s wrong and right until it’s too late.”

“Lily’s former bully sounds like the type who will grow up expecting everything handed to them,” I said. “Parents who don’t set boundaries often end up with kids who expect the world. They’ll want the most expensive car when they get their driver’s license and a hefty allowance that’s more than their parents make in a month.”

Star nodded in agreement. She mentioned that she never had to set strict rules for Cadence. Cadence was the kind of child who preferred staying indoors, which suited her well as a stay-at-home mom.

I told Star that many parents in America face the opposite problem now. They want their kids to go outside instead of staying in all day playing video games. Star laughed and said, “Parents got their wish, but now it’s biting them on the ass.”

Star mentioned that their mom was the opposite, always wanting them out of the house. Star admitted she loved hanging around the local firehouse as a kid and teenager, while Luna had her own crowd of tough kids. Star wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to the firehouse, but she just liked being there, especially at Engine 209 and Ladder Company 102.

I suggested to Star that it might be the classic trope of kids wanting to become firefighters. Firefighters are often seen in a more positive light than cops because they run into burning buildings to save people, doing things most people would run away from. It’s a heroic image that resonates with many children.

I asked how they felt about people who hoard things. Emily shared that she still lives as if wartime rationing is in effect. She drives exactly the speed limit, buys small amounts of sugar, and makes T-bone steaks out of ground beef. She prefers to save resources like synthetic rubber used for tires rather than speeding down the road. Emily also mentioned that she often makes cakes without eggs, using a wartime cookbook with recipes designed for rationing.

Even though wartime rationing ended almost a year ago, Emily’s habits persist. She recalled how fresh items like milk, fruits, and vegetables weren’t rationed because they were available daily and couldn’t be easily sent to troops far away without spoiling. It’s interesting how those experiences have shaped her approach to everyday life, emphasizing resourcefulness and conservation.

Star was pretty clear about her feelings on hoarding—she thinks there’s a special place in hell for people who hoard things from others. She believes it’s unfair, even though life isn’t always fair. She and Emily both agreed on this point.

They explained how, during the war, the government issued ration stamps similar to food stamps, but with a crucial difference, these stamps expired every month. This meant you couldn’t save them up. The number of stamps varied depending on the household size—a single person got twenty stamps, while a family with two kids got eighty. Each item had a point value, and you needed the corresponding number of stamps to buy it, along with actual money or food stamps. For example, a steak costing 12 points required 12 stamps. If you didn’t have enough stamps, you couldn’t buy it, even if you had the money.

Emily mentioned that booklets were created to simplify the process, explaining how many stamps were needed for each item. This system ensured that resources were distributed more evenly, preventing hoarding and encouraging fair use.

Emily explained that during rationing, the most expensive items were meats like pork, chicken, and ground beef, which cost 7 points, while sausages and bacon were around 10 points, and all kinds of steak were 12 points. Fruits, veggies, butter, canned goods, and cheeses ranged from 1 to 10 points, with canned goods being more expensive than fresh items. Fresh milk and bread weren’t rationed because they arrived at stores regularly. Any unsold fresh milk would be given a point value after a few days. Evaporated and powdered milk were mostly sent to troops on the front lines. Eggs were scarce, with people only allowed one tin or packet of powdered eggs or one box of dried eggs every two months. Many people kept chickens in their backyards to get around this.

Star mentioned how she missed having bacon, sausage, and egg sandwiches for breakfast but found oatmeal to be a good alternative. She also noted that soldiers had to wait for food because, although it was grown locally, most of it had to be freeze-dried and flown out to them. The food was then distributed equally among the divisions and companies.

“Well, Emily, I know you’d hate it back home where I’m from,” I said, shaking my head.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Back in the States, driving can be a nightmare. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been cut off or nearly crashed because someone was on their cell phone, doing 105 MPH on the Interstate. And now, with touch screens, people are texting and driving even more. It’s terrifying how often I’ve been cut off by speed demons who don’t even bother using their turn signals,” I explained, frustration creeping into my voice.

Emily nodded knowingly. “Let me guess, they end up having blowouts or flipping their cars?”

“Mostly, I see cops pulling them over. My dad used to want to do a PIT maneuver to stop them and go after them with a bat. But he’s not a cop, and that would be assault with a deadly weapon, so he never did it,” I said with a wry smile.

“I’ve seen people speeding like that too,” Emily said. “Sometimes they blow a tire and flip their car. By law, bystanders have to help because just standing around is a violation of the Duty to Rescue law.”

“Yeah, but I have a feeling that back home in America, with everyone having cell phones with cameras, people would just stand around recording instead of helping. They probably think it would make good video content,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

Emily’s expression turned cold. “People like that can burn in Hell for all eternity. The world’s a bad enough place without folks just standing around when others need help. I don’t like speeders, but if they get into an accident, I’ll still help them until Fire, Police, and EMS arrive. If they try to sue me, they don’t have a case because I’m following the Good Samaritan and Duty to Rescue laws.”

Star was on a roll, ranting about how some people are just too clueless to get involved. But then she switched gears, saying how glad she was to have brought her daughter and husband here. She mentioned how her husband had handled all the paperwork to make both her and Cadence legal citizens. Before I could chime in, Star added that Cadence was born in Queens, New York, so she’s already an American.

Star went on about how if her daughter worked, she’d probably land a job with long hours but be home most of the year. I figured she meant Cadence would end up working at a food stand in a football, baseball, or soccer stadium. Football games here in Little Bird have 15 games in 18 weeks before the championship, similar to the NFL back in the States during the 1967-1977 seasons. Baseball has 162 games, and like football and soccer here, there are seven teams each, with teams often playing each other twice until a winner emerges at the end of the season.

I pointed out that while regular restaurants have a whole year to make money, those at stadiums have to rake in their earnings during games. The season finales are their big money-makers because of the larger crowds. They have to sell a ton of food and drinks in a short time, and each stadium’s capacity varies. Typically, they need to hit around $135,744.95 in sales to stay profitable.

Emily asked how they decide what kind of food to serve, and I explained that it’s a lot like running a convenience store with a concession stand. They focus on food that can be cooked quickly and served fast because speed is key. Most of the food is pre-made and packaged, so they just hand it out to customers within a minute or two. It’s not like a regular restaurant where you can wait for your meal to be prepared.

Each year, they have to estimate how many people will show up and adjust their food supply based on what sold quickly and what didn’t. Typically, they cater to about 18,000 people per game, but on holidays and for the final game, that number can skyrocket to around 100,000. They have to make educated guesses on what people will want, but it’s usually hot dogs and burgers because they’re quick and easy to prepare.

Star and Emily mentioned that in Little Bird, hot dogs are seen as kids’ food. Adults prefer juicy burgers and will only opt for hot dogs if there are no burgers or other alternatives like chicken tenders available.

Star and Emily also said how each one has a role to do from the burger stand to the hot dog stand to the chicken stand and the beverage stand. Each one is different but do it in a way to make the service faster than having a few people run around trying to do everything at once. So everything is more or less streamlined to be fast service but Star also said how if you want something on it or not then the customer has to say what they want because if you just say hot dog then you get ketchup, mustard, relish, pickle slice, and onion on it or just say hamburger you get a plain hamburger or say cheeseburger you get a cheeseburger with onion and pickles on it so you have to say what you want on it or remove it or I put it as every fast food joint because they already throw what they want onto it and the customer has to say what to take off or to add.

I decided to lay down on the seats to get some rest.

________

Several hours later, the darkness had settled in. I woke up to the sound of the car transitioning from asphalt to dirt. Star brought the car to a halt, and we all got out—Star, Emily, and me. We met up with Jack, Sam, Mitchell, and two women I didn’t recognize.

“So, Sam? Jack? Did you two do any recon on the defenders?” Star asked.

Sam shook his head. “Nope, it was these two. Jack and I have been busy holding Mitchell back from charging in there like a one-man army.”

“Sounds like something out of a multiplayer game but it’s a broken secondary,” I quipped.

Star turned to the newcomers. “Alright, Sergeant, what do you have?”

The woman stepped forward. “Just a ragtag group, nothing much. They’re armed with low-caliber, low-capacity weapons.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And who the hell are you two?”

Sam introduced them. “Macaroni, meet Sergeant Sonata Jackson from the 1st Special Forces Group and Private First Class Julia Vance from the 5th Special Forces Group.”

From what I’ve heard, the Little Bird Army Special Forces Group is not to be trifled with. These men and women are top-tier operators, trained in everything from assassination and reconnaissance to intelligence gathering, sabotage, and search and rescue. They’re skilled trackers who can navigate by the stars, using techniques that date back to the Renaissance.

Sonata continued, “Sam and I will head up the hill to provide sniper overwatch. We’ve also got weapons.”

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it. A friend was asking me to cover a $6,000 bill at a fancy restaurant and wanted my card info. I texted back, telling her to hit the road—no way that was happening.

“My dad captured a Fusil semi-automatique 7 mm 5 M. 49 during his time in the Marines in 'Nam,” Sam said.

Jack cut in, “So, what’s the tactic?”

“Teams of two will hit them before they know what’s coming,” PFC Julia Vance briefed us. “PFC Skybolt will lay down suppressive fire straight down the center, while CPL Hartstock snipes from a distance. Sgt. Waterson and I will flank left, and you two will flank right. No heroics. No prisoners.”

Just then, the bushes rustled, and out stepped Twilight—Mitchell’s sister.

Sam and Sonata headed up the hill, Sonata pulling out a spotter scope. They were the perfect sniper-spotter team.

Julia popped open the car trunk. “Take what you need,” she said. Inside were S-System and S-System Commando rifles, two snubnosed .44 magnum revolvers, a combat shotgun, and several submachine guns. I grabbed the shotgun.

“Reminds me of hunting with my family back home the day before Thanksgiving,” I said, picking up the semi-automatic combat shotgun. I performed a brass check, pulling back the slide. The shell flew out, but I caught it and slid it back into the chamber.

Star and I moved to the right flank while Mitchell and Julia took the left. Twilight stayed with Jack. We waited for Sam to take the first shot. After a tense moment, he did.

The moment Sam took the shot, Jack opened fire, suppressing our opponents. It was like clockwork—the four F’s of combat in motion. We found the enemy, Jack fixed them with suppressive fire, and Star, Mitchell, Julia, and I flanked them to finish them off.

We eliminated the bad guys outside. They had only slightly fortified one way, leaving their flanks exposed. We dealt with them quickly and made our way to the front door of the rundown plantation house. Mitchell and Julia went around back. After a few seconds, we heard nine loud bangs—like a Nine Bang, used by Little Bird Army Special Forces and police departments. It temporarily blinds and deafens targets, making snatch-and-grabs smoother or disorienting targets to speed up room clearing without them shooting back.

As soon as the Nine Bang went off, we stormed in. Star and I cleared the living room and non-side rooms, while Mitchell and Julia handled the side rooms. We regrouped at the stairs, where Julia expertly bounced another Nine Bang off the ceiling. It reminded me more of a frag grenade tactic, but it worked.

When the second Nine Bang detonated, I couldn’t help but wonder if the bad guys had called for reinforcements. I voiced my concern, but Julia reminded me that we were Special Forces, and unconventional warfare was their game. She and Sonata planned to booby trap the dead after the rest of us—Star, Mitchell, Sam, Jack, Twilight, Cadence, and I—had left.

I was about to argue about the legality and the Geneva Convention, but the looks from Star and Julia said it all. “Illegal and against the Laws and Customs of War? Like we cared.”

Living in a country that calls out Germany’s hypocrisy in World War One, I can’t help but think about how Germany condemned the U.S. for using shotguns while they launched chlorine gas shells. History books here often highlight how Germany argued that shotguns caused unnecessary harm, all while using chemicals that led to inhumane deaths.

When the Nine Bang finally went off after a delay, we stormed the second floor. We moved quickly, clearing each room methodically, saving the last room for, well, last.

Mitchell kicked the door open, revealing a guy holding his wife, Cadence, hostage. He had her positioned so we couldn’t get a clear shot without risking her. But then, as if the universe aligned, Cadence managed to move just enough for Mitchell and Julia to take a clean shot without hitting her.

Star rushed over to Cadence, taking her outside. I figured either she, Sam, or Sonata would check on her. My theory is that since Jack, Sam, Julia, and Sonata are Special Forces, they don’t have designated medics. Instead, each one is trained to be a medic in their own right, probably carrying two medkits and four bandage packs each. Here in Little Bird, military medics wear an unremovable white armband with a red cross, respecting the law of not shooting a combat medic unless they’re actively engaging in combat, which would revoke their non-combatant status. Soldiers here honor the cross but target RTOs (Radio Operators) since they’re combatants and not protected by the Geneva Convention.

Mitchell emptied his clip into the hostage taker, ensuring he was eliminated. When he ran out of ammo, he didn’t stop—he used the butt of his gun, hitting the body repeatedly until he finally stopped.

We left the scene, and I got into the back seat of Star’s car with Mitchell, Twilight, and Cadence. Jack and Sam had their own ride home on Army Scouts—motorcycles from the 1930s used for scouting enemy positions. Those bikes are slick and have a low profile, perfect for staying under the radar.

“Dad died near the beginning of the year. I had a feeling he really wanted to walk me down the aisle. Well, I don’t really plan to walk down there either, so I guess maybe one day I’ll have to ask my brother to do so,” Twilight muttered.

Sonata and Julia did as they said, setting the traps before getting into their vehicle. This beast of a machine is 20 feet long, 10 feet high, and weighs about 3 tons. It’s powered by a 14.0 L engine and serves multiple roles: internal security, military patrol, rapid transport, reconnaissance, anti-armor, anti-aircraft, and anti-personnel. There are variants equipped with a chain gun, a gauss cannon, rockets, or just used as a troop transport.

Thanks to my cousin Visala, we have the gauss cannon here in Little Bird. It fires a hyper-velocity, high-density projectile at 13.7 kilometers per second—or 30,645.91 miles per hour. Yes, the Little Bird Military uses the Imperial system, not Metric.

Julia and Sonata’s vehicle is the troop transport variant, ready to carry us wherever we need to go.

As we drove, I decided to ask Mitchell about his and Cadence’s kids and their first words. Mitchell couldn’t say because he wasn’t there, but Cadence filled in the blanks. Platinum and McKinney’s first words were “Mama.” Rose, on the other hand, was a late talker. Mitchell speculates that Rose might be gifted, as Star mentioned that late talkers often have brains focused on learning other things. Rose’s first word was “Daddy.”

Star speculated that their first words might define whom they would love the most. She guessed that McKinney and Platinum are a Mommy’s Boy and Girl, while Rose is destined to be a Daddy’s Girl. When I asked about their youngest, Flurry, Cadence mentioned that she’s only five months old, born back in May—on my birthday, actually. So, Flurry hasn’t said her first word yet.

Star mentioned she could see Rose becoming a football player like her dad. Mitchell, feeling old at just 20, joked about how what’s cool now will be outdated when they get older. Cadence, however, was firm that Rose, Flurry, and Platinum would never be soldiers or cops.

Mitchell pointed out that while there are many cops, it’s not as many as people think. He explained that Little Bird’s justice system focuses on rehabilitating criminals rather than just locking them up. Here, inmates have the title “Ex-Convict” and are given opportunities to work—laundry, cooking, cleaning, groundskeeping, workshops, and more. They earn a small wage, about 10 cents an hour for eight hours, which isn’t forced labor but a choice, making it far from slavery. They’re also learning a skill that also gets put on their record.

Mitchell found it hypocritical of Cadence to say Rose and Platinum can’t be cops or soldiers but had no issue with Rose playing football, despite the risk of concussions or torn muscles. Cadence felt their kids might inherit Waterson's knack for bait-and-switch comments. Whenever Cadence is at the store and friends come over, Mitchell would say, “If only Cadence was still with us. But she left for the store/doctor’s/dentist a few minutes ago.”

Mitchell said he’s fine with whatever their kids choose to do as long as it’s legal, even if they become soldiers. Cadence, however, views soldiers as mass serial killers. I chimed in, saying war is legalized murder that only psychopaths and sociopaths enjoy, but reminded her that even in war, there are rules and laws soldiers must follow.

When I asked Cadence if she saw her aunt, a Lieutenant, or her husband Mitchell, a Sergeant, as mass serial killers, she said no because they’re family. But when I asked about Mitchell’s half-sister, Cadenza, she said, “In another life,” and admitted that Cadenza is scary. That’s true—Cadenza is the type who would throw someone into a wall or send them to a shock trauma center.

I then asked how she viewed Nataline “Nat,” Lucy, and Ashley Waterson, her sisters-in-law who are also soldiers. Cadence had mixed feelings, even though they’re Project Phoenix supersoldiers.

When I asked why Cadenza and Francis weren’t with us, Mitchell explained that Cadenza went to another place, and Francis had a family dinner with his adoptive parents. Francis had offered to cancel, but Mitchell insisted on the importance of family.

As we talked, Jack and Sam flew by on their motorcycles. Mitchell mentioned he had to pay for the repairs he did to the empty room in Jack’s house—one thousand dollars worth of damage.

We finally made it back to Mitchell and Cadence’s place. It was late, but we still managed to have pork chops for dinner. They were a bit chewy but still good enough to enjoy without needing a steak knife. I even made a pork chop sandwich with some bread and dipped it in the juices—delicious.

I asked Mitchell and Cadence if they were planning to pick up their kids from Mitchell’s older sisters. Mitchell quickly shut that down, saying Natalie, Lucy, and Ashley were already in bed. They need their beauty sleep unless there’s an emergency. He figured it was best for the kids to stay with their aunts since it was already a quarter to ten. The kids usually go to bed around 9:30, so they were probably already asleep.

We then shifted the conversation to careers. Cadence mentioned she could never be a network censor. They have to decide what’s acceptable for TV or movies, avoiding anything controversial like narcotics or non-family-friendly values. War shows wouldn’t show gore or swearing, and censors have to watch pre-final copies of episodes and movies, deciding what needs to be edited or cut. They avoid showing things like adultery, open marriages, drinking, gore, swearing, depression, divorce, or sex, focusing instead on happy marriages and other family-friendly themes.

I get why they avoid showing open marriages. To me, open marriages are just a way for couples to cheat without feeling guilty. If people don’t want to be committed, they shouldn’t be married. Open relationships mean someone or both partners are together but also seeing other people. Sure, it’s the 21st century, but if someone wants to date others while in a relationship, they shouldn’t be in one.

Mitchell and Cadence agreed, saying open marriages are a sham. It’s not really a marriage if you’re dating or seeing others and being unfaithful. Many people here, and many I know, are in traditional relationships, loyal to their partners and not dating behind their backs. I do have some friends who want open relationships but only on their terms—they can date others, but their partner can’t. That just doesn’t sit right with me.

Mitchell and Cadence have a traditional relationship, like a family from a ‘50s sitcom. Mitchell works, and Cadence is a stay-at-home mom by choice because that’s where she feels most comfortable. I noticed a board on the kitchen wall with the week’s meals planned out:

* MON: Meatloaf

* TUES: Breakfast

* WED: Salisbury Steak with Mac and Cheese

* THURS: Pork Chops

* FRI: Leftovers

* SAT: Veggie Stew

* SUN: Leftover Stew

“That’s new,” I said, pointing to the calendar. Mitchell explained they got it a few weeks back while I was still in the hospital. The calendar helps them plan their shopping trips, making it easier to know what they need for the week instead of wandering the store wondering what to have for dinner.

Mitchell mentioned that Cadence’s IQ is in the early 90s, meaning she’d be a semi-skilled worker (like a truck driver or factory worker). But she’s the type who spends a lot of time at the store on Saturdays, comparing prices to get the best deals for the following week’s meals.

I can see why the calendar is helpful. It makes shopping quicker and more efficient because you know exactly what you need. Studies here in Little Bird show that the longer people spend in stores, the more money they tend to spend. If you don’t know what you want, you end up wandering the aisles longer. So, by planning their meals, they avoid overspending. Mitchell said Cadence might be naive, but she’s smart about planning around sales and getting the best deals. Sometimes, name-brand items on sale are cheaper than generic brands, which is a nice bonus.

Cadence thanked her mother for teaching her how to shop smart. She remembered her father, who was around until she was four, as the kind of guy who grabbed the first thing he saw without checking the price. He often bought the most expensive items. Cadence recalled him buying a pack of ground beef for around $2.50, which made me nearly choke. Here in Little Bird, a three-pound pack of ground beef costs 86 cents, so $2.50 must have been for a much larger amount.

When I asked about snacks, Cadence explained they buy family-sized products because they’re 10 cents cheaper than the regular-sized ones. She gets chips and pretzels in family-sized packs for $3, whereas the normal-sized variants would cost around $4 or $5. She buys them every other Saturday since their eldest three kids, who are in kindergarten, don’t eat much and spend more time napping.

I mentioned that as the kids get older, those naps will turn into running around with friends, being more physically active, and eating more. Mitchell agreed but said he would enforce a rule of not eating 30 minutes before dinner. It’s a rule his mother, aunt, and uncle all had—no eating half an hour to an hour before dinner.

When I asked Cadence what happened to her father, she said her mother gives her a different story each time. One story is that he got into a car crash, another is that he did something stupid like climbing into a lion exhibit, and yet another is that he wanted a separation from Star instead of a divorce to be with someone else. The story changes every time, so Cadence gave up asking. I actually agree with Star’s approach—giving different stories might be her way of protecting Cadence’s feelings and preserving her image of her father.

Mitchell chimed in, saying that sometimes not speaking the truth is better. While us Watersons prefer the harsh truth over a comforting lie, there are times when we even lie, depending on who we’re talking to. Sometimes lying is a better alternative, but other times, the truth is necessary. It all depends on the situation.

When I asked Cadence about her dad, she said he wouldn’t win any “Dad of the Year” awards. He was the kind of father who let her have whatever she wanted—junk food and candy. He often forgot about her dentist and doctor appointments, preferring to crack open a soda and watch TV. Cadence said Mitchell is a much better father. He would leave work without telling his boss to take Rose, McKinney, and Platinum to the doctor or dentist, even if he had just gotten home from work. He’d refuse to relax until the visit was over.

Cadence also mentioned that her dad never got her up on time for school. She nearly had to repeat kindergarten, first grade, and second grade because of his poor time management. He would wait until the last minute, making it impossible for her to change from pajamas to day clothes, eat breakfast, or brush her teeth without missing the bus. The house was too far for her to walk to school without being an hour late. Her only option was to change and walk to catch the bus or walk to school without breakfast or brushing her teeth. Her dad would get mad at her for not doing both. Cadence said it was bad when a four, five, or six-year-old had better priorities than a man in his late 20s.

I said that’s how parenting is—when people become parents, life is no longer all about them. Many parents live like their life is more important than their kids and do everything a normal parent wouldn’t do. Mitchell added that there are two kinds of family members; those who want their kids or other family members to do what they want at the cost of others’ happiness, and those who put their own happiness and well-being over anyone else.

I countered, saying there are two kinds of people; those who like me, and those who can go to hell. But Mitchell had a valid point about those who want others to make them happy at the cost of their own happiness and those who want others to make themselves happy and live their own life.

When I asked Cadence about her morning routine, she mentioned that Mitchell gets up at 5:00 AM sharp, while she wakes up an hour and a half later to prepare the kids’ school supplies and make their lunches. She makes a variety of sandwiches—turkey, bologna, ham, or PB&J—but has to keep the peanut butter away from Mitchell due to his allergy. Although Mitchell is careful, there was an incident in school where his bully, Buck, smeared peanut butter on his cheese sandwich. Mitchell had a severe allergic reaction and was lucky the school had EpiPens.

Despite Mitchell’s aunt claiming he was faking it, no one else believed her. Cadence mentioned that Mitchell and Twilight’s eldest sisters said the school could have faced a lawsuit if they hadn’t administered the EpiPen. Mitchell’s friends, Sam and Jack, noted that he avoids anything with nuts unless someone sneaks it into his food, which is considered a felony of attempted poisoning or even attempted murder in Little Bird, depending on the severity of the reaction.

Mitchell explained that the allergic reaction was so severe it could have been classified as attempted murder. He had to be taken out of school and monitored by a doctor for the rest of the day. The doctor said that if Mitchell hadn’t received the EpiPen when he did, he could have suffered an asthma attack or cardiac arrest within thirty seconds. As a precaution, the doctor prescribed him an inhaler, even though Mitchell doesn’t have asthma, because of how close he was to having an asthma attack.

Cadence shared that Buck once tried to sue Mitchell for “taking” her from him. Legally, Buck had no case since Cadence broke up with him and chose to be with Mitchell on her own. Mitchell summed it up perfectly. “Suing someone because their girlfriend left you for someone who treats them better is like suing for slavery.”

It’s a ridiculous lawsuit because you can’t sue an ex-lover for moving on, even if you offer to pay their new partner to give them back. Mitchell told Buck, “I didn’t realize we were at a slave auction. Last I checked, buying and selling human beings is illegal in this country.”

Cadence described her time with Buck as a literal nightmare. He was such a narcissistic jerk that calling him narcissistic doesn’t even do it justice—he made narcissists look likable.

I mentioned that most shows in Little Bird portray people in stereotypical ways. The positive ones are hardworking, love their jobs, and have great time management. The negative ones love to fight and have short tempers. But people here just laugh and don’t get their underwear in a bunch.

Cadence mentioned how ironic it is that she and Mitchell are friends with Buck’s mother and sister. Buck’s mother married into old money, but instead of splurging, she took over her husband’s business and made him work, eventually becoming the school principal. This might be because the town didn’t require many qualifications for the role, or he was simply the best option available.

Buck’s sister, Sarah, is the complete opposite of him. While Buck uses his family’s money and power to get out of trouble, Sarah is kind, lovable, and prefers to make her own way in life. She doesn’t rely on her father’s position or the family’s wealth to bail her out. She believes in taking responsibility for her actions and working for what she wants.

It’s quite amusing how the father and son use their money and influence to avoid consequences, while the mother and sister are all about hard work and accountability. It’s a stark contrast that makes you appreciate the different paths people choose, even within the same family.

When I asked Cadence about her and Mitchell’s wedding, she told me her mother walked her down the aisle. She doesn’t know where her father is, but she knows he’s not at Clearlake Cemetery. She visits the cemetery with Mitchell on his birthday and whenever he goes to put flowers on his mother’s grave, which he does twice a month—on the first and in the middle of the month.

Mitchell shared that his mother and stepfather died on his sixth birthday. At that time, Lucy and Natalie were 27, Ashley was 23, Mitchell had just turned 6, Twilight was almost 4, and their half-sister Mackenzie was 1. After their parents’ death, Ashley, Mitchell, Twilight, and Mackenzie were taken in by their Aunt and Uncle Orange. Lucy was undergoing a psych evaluation to stay in the army, and Natalie was off the grid, honing her survival skills.

Mitchell mentioned he would have preferred living with Lucy because she’s the cool, supportive sister. She always puts her siblings’ mental health first, letting them talk to her about anything and offering a shoulder to cry on. When Mitchell and his friends played baseball in junior high and football in high school, Lucy, who works at a little pizzeria, would treat them to freshly made pizza bagels or give them two XL pizzas for half the price, often covering the rest herself.

Lucy only had one serious boyfriend, and they were supposed to marry. However, she broke up with him because he would defend her against others but always bent to his parents’ whims. The final straw was when she overheard him telling his mother that if they had a child, he would give the baby to his sister to raise. That was too much for Lucy. My dad always said, “When you marry someone, you also marry their family, so be careful who you marry.” Lucy definitely dodged a bullet there. She even got an indefinite restraining order against her ex-boyfriend and his entire family.

In a small town like Clearlake, where everyone knows each other and the town center is the hub, it’s hard to avoid running into people. The roads are designed to lead to the town center, where the town hall and main stores are located. With a population of 5,500, everyone passes through the town plaza, whether by car, on foot, or by bike.

Absolutely, the layout of Clearlake really does make it a close-knit community. With Main Street, 2nd St, 4th St, and 5th Street surrounding the town plaza, and connecting roads like Bacon St, Blueberry St, and 7th St linking everything together.

In a town of 5,500 people, rumors and truths spread like wildfire. When people heard about a man wanting to give his future child to his sister, it definitely stirred up some negative gossip. But the folks in Clearlake are smart—they don’t blame products for bad outcomes. They understand that it’s the actions of individuals that matter. They won’t blame a car for vehicular manslaughter or a violent video game for someone’s actions. As Mitchell puts it, “We’re not the top species on the planet because we’re nice. We’re the top species on the planet of fighting and killing.”

Mitchell shared that his father, a Vietnam veteran, was quite different from his grandfather and uncles. While his father was pro-war, he didn’t want his medals and got rid of them, which offended some people. However, his grandfather, a veteran of World War I, World War II, and the Korean War, along with his brothers who fought in World War II and the Korean War, supported his decision. They believed that if he wasn’t comfortable with the medals, he had the right to get rid of them. They even said that medals should be awarded for playing sports, not for killing others. They wore their medals with pride, seeing themselves as part of a larger effort to fight tyranny.

Mitchell has mixed feelings about medals. He believes that while many soldiers do the same things, medals and trophies should be reserved for achievements in sports.

When I asked Mitchell and Cadence about loans, they both emphasized the importance of getting everything in writing. In Little Bird, verbal contracts aren’t valid in court because they can lead to confusion and disputes. Cadence, despite her IQ being in the early 90s, wisely pointed out that oral contracts are difficult to enforce and can lead to inconsistent outcomes. Mitchell agreed, noting that recorded oral contracts are valid, but it’s always better to have things in writing.

I brought this up because my stepmom, Martha, wanted me to help pay for my stepbrother’s college tuition. I took her to a lawyer to get a written contract, with the lawyer acting as a third party. Mitchell said that was a smart move, ensuring everything was clear and legally binding and having a witness and an unbiased third party.

I asked Mitchell about his experience in the military, and he had some strong opinions. He appreciates the uniformity but dislikes the fanaticism among leaders. He explained that squad, platoon, company, battalion, and regimental leaders often push their soldiers to fight to the death, even against stronger units. This fanaticism means that soldiers who flee without orders can be executed for desertion, which is considered a capital offense.

Mitchell also talked about the cooperation between the different divisions in Little Bird. Infantry protects armor, armor protects infantry, and air supports both. He emphasized, “For plans to work, cooperation must be perfect.” However, he noted that armored vehicles and aircraft are prohibited from firing on buildings unless engaged by enemy combatants inside, to prevent civilian casualties.

Cadence likened this cooperation to a ballet, but I pointed out that soldiers aren’t dancers.

Mitchell mentioned the capabilities of Little Bird’s tanks. The M1 and M1A1 Main Battle Tanks have a firing range of one mile, while the M2 and M2A2 can fire up to two miles. However, in urban combat, this range isn’t as impressive since enemy combatants can be hidden in any building, making it difficult to distinguish between combatants and civilians.

I switched the conversation back to shopping and asked why they go on Saturdays. Mitchell explained that he’s been in Clearlake for twenty years, and when he used to shop with his mom before she passed, they noticed that items not sold from Monday to Friday get marked down for the weekend. This helps clear out inventory for new stock arriving on Friday nights. People take advantage of sales like “buy two, get one free,” making their money go further. For example, canned goods usually cost 12 cents each, but sometimes they drop to three cents, allowing people to buy four cans for the price of one. Mitchell summed it up, “Saturday is the best” because that’s when grocery stores want to sell off their remaining stock, and people do most of their shopping after getting paid on Fridays.

Mitchell and Cadence are savvy shoppers, comparing prices to get the best deals. Little Bird’s currency is backed by gold, which limits the government’s ability to print money and keeps the national debt in check. This makes the dollar here worth more than elsewhere. Specialists work to keep inflation low, even during wartime, ensuring prices remain realistic. No one wants to pay three bucks for a loaf of bread or twenty bucks for a pound of ground beef.

Emily, who had been quiet, chimed in, mentioning that in the comic book she reads, money is backed by water because it’s set in a wasteland.

I asked Emily about the comic book she reads about the wasteland. She says it’s a good comic book but it touches on touchy subjects like narcotics so it’s not sold in comic book stores or anywhere else that sells comic books. Only a select few places are willing to sell anything with the AO rating then if a store does sell anything with the AO rating then no one under eighteen is allowed to enter without a parent or legal guardian for obvious reasons.

I shifted the conversation to school, and Emily, Cadence, and Mitchell shared their thoughts on the education system here. They acknowledged that while it’s not perfect, it’s different. Schools teach basic life skills and general knowledge, preparing students who enter the workforce right after high school. They explained that the education system caters to different learning speeds—fast learners, slow learners, and those in between. Teachers here encourage creativity rather than strict adherence to instructions.

Mitchell added that education is a lifelong process. People teach their babies, teachers educate kids and teenagers, and adults continue learning through work or further education. Emily emphasized that it’s okay to think creatively and learn from failure. She mentioned that famous scientists, artists, and musicians never gave up on their ideas, even when they faced setbacks.

Emily also shared a historical tidbit about Little Bird experimenting with “salted bombs” in the late 1930s for homeland defense. However, the idea was shelved due to the inability to control radiation. Mitchell explained that during the final months of World War II, Little Bird’s military and government were working on nuclear weapons prototypes. Experts had to convince military leaders about the dangers of radiation, explaining it in simple terms like, “Radiation blowing onto enemies is good. Radiation blowing onto our own troops is bad.”

Mitchell and Emily went on about how Little Bird tried to create an atomic bomb in the 1930s but lacked enough educated people in radioactivity and nuclear theory. Near the end of World War II, efforts were made to capture German nuclear secrets, equipment, and personnel. The LBIAOSA (Little Bird Intelligence Agency Office of Strategic Actions) was ahead of the Soviets in retrieving or eliminating Nazi scientists. They warned the scientists that the Soviets would likely kill them once they were no longer useful. Of course they didn’t know at the time that the Soviets sent said scientists to East Germany in the early 50s.

Mitchell also mentioned that the LBIAOSA isn’t as incompetent as the media portrays. They’re cautious about defectors, ensuring they’re trustworthy and not relaying information back to their own troops.

I changed the subject to family. Cadence only knows her mom and aunt, with little knowledge of her father’s side. Mitchell’s family, the Watersons, are close-knit. Emily described her family as toxic, sharing how her aunt wanted her to let her niece, her deadbeat boyfriend, and their eight kids move into the penthouse she shares with James Waterson 4th. Emily refused, pointing out that James is the main renter and breaking the lease would incur hefty fines. She also mentioned that some family members have been institutionalized or imprisoned, highlighting the dysfunction.

I was shocked, “A family of ten people begging to live rent-free and be 100% financially supported?”

Emily replied, “Yes, my aunt called me a few times wanting me to take in my niece, her deadbeat boyfriend, and their eight kids because their house is too small. If they stopped having babies every eighteen months, they’d have the space. Just because someone runs out of space in their house doesn’t mean they should keep having kids.”

Mitchell believes that people should only have kids if they can support them. He pointed out that constantly having children, especially if one parent refuses to work and the other is frequently on maternity leave, isn’t sustainable. In Little Bird, maternity leave typically starts between the 20th and 30th week of pregnancy and lasts until two months after the baby is born, depending on the company. Most companies start leave around the 25th week and extend it for a month after birth. To prevent abuse of this benefit, there’s a “Cooldown effect” in place, which dictates how long an employee must wait before they can use the benefit again. This ensures that employees, regardless of gender, can’t misuse their paid time off (PTO).

When I asked about their living space, Emily explained that her niece and her family live in a starter apartment. It’s a small, cramped place meant for one or two people, with a narrow kitchen and combined laundry room. It’s the kind of place people get when they first move out of their parents’ house, saving up until they can afford a house.

In Little Bird, apartments are a cheaper alternative to houses and are often the first step towards independence. People save up to either put a down payment on a house or cover the security deposit and first month’s rent. Houses are seen as the big leagues, offering more space and privacy but also more responsibilities, like lawn care. Apartments, on the other hand, are more affordable and practical for those starting out.

When I asked Emily about their living space, she shared that her niece and her family are in one of those classic starter apartments. You know the type, small, cramped, meant for one or two people. It has a narrow kitchen and a combined laundry room. It’s the kind of place you get right after moving out of your parents’ house, a stepping stone until you save up for something bigger.

For me, apartment life isn't just about cost. I have my deluxe apartment with its black-and-white tiled kitchen floor, hardwood elsewhere, and wallpapered rooms. It’s designed for a small family, but my extra room is my armory since I'm not married and don’t have kids. I love how low maintenance it is compared to a house. Plus, everything's within walking distance. My building even has an on-site laundromat in the basement.

Emily and James? Their apartment's got a laundromat just across the street and they're lucky enough to live across the street from a strip mall with a bank, laundromat, gas station, warehouse supermarket, and an appliance store. Their building has this little club where everyone swaps tips on bulk shopping to make things last longer.

I just shook my head, thinking about how different everyone is. Emily went on about her messed-up family, mentioning relatives in mental hospitals or prisons for various offenses. She explained that some got locked up for attacking peace officers, like throwing coffee at a cop, which is considered assault. Her family members in prison often extend their sentences by attacking weaker inmates or corrections officers before meeting the parole board.

Emily said the women in her family are even worse than the men. When I asked how bad, she compared them to Veruca Salt from “Willy Wonka,” but even more insane. They’re mean, evil, and will defend each other’s crimes, committing perjury without a second thought. Emily considers herself the only sane one, with a career and a clean record. Her family, on the other hand, acts without thinking about consequences, doing illegal and stupid things just because they can.

She shared a story about a cousin who robbed a convenience store to impress friends. The store was packed, and customers jumped him, calling the cops. When he broke free, he ran straight into the waiting police. Emily said her family makes amateur criminals look like pros, which is saying something.

I nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity. The idea of someone being so foolish as to rob a store full of people, only to get caught immediately, was just too much. It really highlighted the lack of planning and sheer stupidity involved.

Emily also shared how insensitive her family can be. Some of her nephews met her husband, Jimmy “James” Richard Waterson IV, and they cruelly reminded him of his father’s tragic death. James IV lost his father, Jimmy “James” Richard Waterson III, in 1984 when an experimental aircraft he was testing exploded on the runway. Her nephews even suggested that if Emily and James IV had kids, they might meet the same fate. Emily had to stop James IV from responding harshly, but she warned her nieces that next time, she wouldn’t hold him back.

Emily’s family also keeps suggesting baby names, but she and James IV don’t care if they have children or not. If they do, they’ll choose the names themselves.

Emily emphasized that her family doesn’t teach accountability. They get a rude awakening when society holds them accountable, which isn’t pleasant. Kids fighting is one thing, but when they start assaulting others, it becomes a serious issue. Her family doesn’t care about morals or consequences, and many of them end up in trouble with the law. Emily considers herself the only sane one, with a career and a clean record. She shared a story about borrowing a pencil from her 5th-grade teacher and returning it a year later, highlighting her sense of responsibility.

Her family, on the other hand, acts without thinking about the consequences, doing illegal and stupid things. Emily mentioned a cousin who robbed a convenience store to impress friends, only to get caught immediately. It’s a stark contrast to her own approach to life, where she values accountability and responsibility.

Emily shared how her family expects her to take in her niece, her lazy boyfriend, and their eight kids. They live in a one-bedroom starter apartment, which is meant for people just starting out, not for a family of ten. Mitchell asked what the boyfriend does all day, and Emily said he just sits at home watching TV, not even helping with chores. He was classified as 4F by the military because he can’t walk straight, but he uses his supposed disability as an excuse to avoid work, even though he can walk normally.

Cadence pointed out that there are genuinely disabled people who still work and live independently. She mentioned a girl from school whose father, despite having only one hand, works as a groundskeeper at a cemetery. Mitchell, Cadence, and I all agreed that the boyfriend just wants people to feel sorry for him, while truly disabled people don’t seek pity and live their lives as normally as possible. Mitchell mentioned that many men in his platoon had to leave the military due to injuries that required them to use wheelchairs.

Emily also mentioned that her niece is on food stamps to get more food, but they still go to the store every other day because the boyfriend eats most of it. It’s frustrating to see someone take advantage of the system while others genuinely need help and make the most of their situations.

Mitchell and I suggested that Emily’s niece and her boyfriend look into public housing or housing projects, which are half the price of normal rent. They might also qualify for subsidized housing.

Curious, I asked Emily about her and James IV’s rent. She explained they live in a fancy apartment building with on-site security, reception, and CCTV. The basic rent is $90/month, but their penthouse costs $105/month. The extra cost is worth it for the security and monitoring. Recently, Emily’s mother called to say her niece and her lazy boyfriend broke into Emily’s house. Emily laughed it off, saying they were lucky the homeowner didn’t press charges. Her actual house is in the forest, requiring a half-hour hike from the parking lot, and her family doesn’t know where it is.

Mitchell remarked that Emily’s niece and her boyfriend were lucky. He would have pressed charges. Emily told her family that if they want her to take in her niece and her family, they should do it themselves. They always stutter or hang up because they don’t practice what they preach, even though they have space.

Emily shared that some family members lost their businesses due to poor decisions, like showing up drunk to meetings with high-paying clients. When they sued the clients who pulled out, they made fools of themselves in court.

For her bachelorette party, some female family members took Emily to a luxury restaurant. They wanted a single bill, hoping Emily would pay for everyone. When the $6,000 bill came, Emily only paid for her portion. The others walked out without paying and were arrested for dine and dashing. Mitchell joked, asking if the food came on gold platters. Emily explained that her family ordered multiple expensive items.

Before the dining fiasco, her family tried to convince her to cheat on James IV, saying it was her last chance before marriage. Emily refused, sticking to her principles. They claimed James IV was cheating during his bachelor party, but Emily didn’t care as long as he didn’t cheat. She later found out they just had a few drinks, watched a sports game, had some chicken wings, chips, dip and a few cold beers, and had no inappropriate interactions.

I tried to wrap my head around the $6,000 bill, but Mitchell pointed out that Emily’s family members committed grand larceny. In the Boroughs of Mountain, Starfish, and Cascade, grand larceny is anything over $50. Emily lives in Starfish, which is about a 12-hour drive from here, depending on traffic and weather. Mitchell added that in the Boroughs of Bluejay and Strawberry, grand larceny is $25 and $60 or higher, respectively.

Mitchell found it amusing that Emily’s family expected her to pay the entire bill for her bachelorette party. In their town, it’s customary for the friends and family to cover the cost so the bride or groom can save for their honeymoon. It’s the opposite of what Emily’s family did.

When we asked about Mitchell and Cadence’s bachelor and bachelorette parties, Mitchell said he was just playing football and baseball with friends and family. Cadence spent hers at home playing board games with her mother.

I shared how, back in America, I used to watch tabloid talk shows filled with controversial topics, profanity, fights, and scantily clad guests. Mitchell, Cadence, and Emily were taken aback. In Little Bird, TV shows focus on family-friendly values, and anything as controversial as those American shows wouldn’t fly here. While shows here might depict fighting, it’s never as extreme as what I used to watch.

The pork chops were so good that I wanted more, but Mitchell said they were all gone. I thanked Cadence for making them, but she told me it was actually Mitchell who cooked them, using his mother’s recipe for tender and juicy pork chops. I have no idea what’s in that recipe book, but it must be something special. His mother had years of experience, cooking from 1961 at the age of seventeen until her death in 1996 at fifty-two.

Maybe one day I’ll try to make them myself, either diving in headfirst or asking Mitchell for the recipe. It would be nice to recreate that delicious meal.

Mitchell shared how his mother loved to cook and experiment with new recipes. She worked as a cook at his friend Sam’s father’s restaurant and was often up at 2 or 3 in the morning trying out new dishes. One of her experiments was a steak and pork chop mix, which Mitchell said was just okay. However, her Salisbury steak with mac and cheese was a hit, especially with the mac and cheese covered in Salisbury steak gravy. We all agreed that it was a delicious combination.

Emily mentioned that she still lives as if wartime rationing is in effect. She sometimes makes a T-bone steak out of ground beef, which ends up tasting like meatloaf. She’s eco-friendly but not a vegetarian, and she likes to make more out of less. Emily still uses her wartime rationing cookbook and believes in making things last longer, unlike many people who quickly replace what they run out of.

Emily also talked about how, during the war, gas was rationed. Single people or those without kids got an “A” sticker for 4 gallons of gas per week. Workers in the military industry got a “B” sticker for up to 8 gallons, and essential personnel like doctors got a “C” sticker. Clergy, police, firemen, and civil defense workers had “X” stickers for unlimited supplies. Little Bird has issued rationing before, learning from the UK and the US to make the process smoother.

Emily likes to live as if wartime rationing is still in effect. It helps her drive more carefully, saving fuel and tires. She’s seen too many people speeding, getting pulled over, or blowing out their tires from reckless driving. She mostly buys fruits and veggies, with a few meat products, because meat is expensive. This forces her to think about whether to spend more on meat or find cheaper alternatives. It’s a way to shop more logically, using ration stamps and cash wisely.

Emily and Cadence talked about how, during the war, meat and canned goods were the most expensive because they were also sent to the troops. People even gave their grease and fats to the military to make glycerin for explosives. Mitchell added that wars are fought by public opinion, especially since the mid 20th century that war can be broadcasted from the front lines into people’s homes. This connection makes those working in defense factories and on farms feel more involved in the war effort.

Mitchell mentioned how, before TV, citizens had to rely on government-controlled newspapers, which often censored information to keep morale high. Even if the war was going poorly, the government would claim they were winning to maintain public support. Nowadays, even with some censorship, the horrors of war can be broadcasted directly into people’s homes, allowing them to see the reality and judge the government’s truthfulness. I added that Vietnam was the first televised war, and we all know how that ended.

When we talked about holidays, I shared how, back in America, my family would eat Thanksgiving dinner quickly to catch the football game. Kids and teenagers ate in the dining room, while adults could eat in the living room with the game on.

Little Bird has “Little Bird Unification Day,” which sounds like something from a horror show but actually celebrates the unification of the five tribes. It’s a mix of Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July, celebrating unity and independence.

One thing I love about Little Bird is the emphasis on economic value and skill. At Arcane University, I learned that sports teams pay more for skilled players, just like businesses value experienced employees. We were also taught the importance of independent thinking over tribalism. It’s better to form your own opinions rather than just going along with the majority, much like how Galileo challenged the belief that the Sun revolved around the Earth.

Living in Little Bird feels like being in a superpower country, similar to the United States before World War I and in the Interwar period. Little Bird has a strong military, a robust economy, and abundant resources. The country is always prepared for war, with ten million soldiers, half of whom are regular soldiers and marines, and the other half are militia. The industrial capacity to replace anything is impressive, ensuring readiness at all times.

Emily asked me about my time at Arcane University, and I couldn’t help but share the reality check it provided. Many of my classmates quickly learned that excuses like “My dog ate my homework” didn’t cut it. Balancing classes and part-time jobs was tough, and when they asked for extensions, professors would often respond with, “It’s not my problem that you can’t manage your time.” It was a stark reminder that in the real world, deadlines are strict, and extensions aren’t always granted.

In high school, we were used to having plenty of free time after classes. But at Arcane University, it was a different story. Between classes, work, and for some, sports practice, free time became a rare luxury. It was a tough adjustment for many who struggled to balance everything.

My professors also emphasized the importance of not surrendering too much power to the government during crises, as it often leads to a long-term loss of freedoms. They taught us to rely on our communities rather than the government to get through tough times. This lesson was tied to the causes of many revolutions and civil wars, where people rise up against oppressive governments.

I really felt for the student-athletes. Their schedules were brutal—practice on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, with a game on Friday. If it was a home game, they had a warm-up game, but no real rest unless they were on defense. For away games, at least they could rest on the bus.

I also encountered a few entitled students who thought they could slack off and rely on their parents to bail them out if they failed. They expected their parents to pressure the school into changing their grades or letting them retake tests. Some professors were kind enough to offer make-up tests, but that was rare. At Arcane University, you needed an 80% to pass, and some entitled students scored as low as 5% because they didn’t take it seriously. While some students were allowed to retake the final before grades were finalized, the entitled ones weren’t. They couldn’t make up for all the missed tests and the finals within 48 hours.

I had professors who dealt with parents feeding into their child’s entitlement, demanding to know why their son or daughter wasn’t passing. Some professors were willing to let students redo tests for a better grade, but not for those who skipped every Friday to avoid tests and only showed up for the final. These entitled students learned the hard way that the real world doesn’t cater to them. If you don’t play by the rules, you face the consequences.

On the first day, my professors emphasized that tests were 30% of our grades, classwork was 20%, and finals were 50%. There were five finals—one for each semester and one comprehensive final at the end of the year.

I was about to say something, but Mitchell jumped in, explaining that once a grade is entered into the system, it can’t be changed. If it were altered to make a student look better without doing the work, that would be a crime. My father always says, “Once it’s done, it’s done. Nothing you can do about it,” and that’s true. Some of my professors were kind enough to let students take missed tests in the hallway, but many entitled students blew off these opportunities, thinking they didn’t need to do the tests.

Even almost a decade later, I remember how tests and finals made up the majority of our grades. Most professors weren’t lenient; if you missed a test or final, it was held against you. Some professors allowed make-up tests on Monday for those who missed Friday’s test, but it was up to the students to take advantage of that. Refusing to take the make-up test meant losing 30% of their grade.

I told them about some guys who tried to flirt with me into doing their schoolwork. I told them to beat it because balancing university work, a part-time job, and life was already hard enough. I worked as a grocery store stocker, either at night or during the day, depending on the schedule. I mostly studied during lunch breaks or on the bus to and from work and my great-granduncle Jimmy “James” Waterson I’s villa, which he let me use to live off-campus. Balancing school, work, and life was tough, but I managed.

I shared a story about missing a test due to being under the weather. Despite having a doctor’s note, my professor pulled me aside and gave me the option to make up the test or skip it and fail. I chose to take the test, sitting in the hallway for an hour. It was better than being distracted in the classroom, and my classes were two hours each.

I really disliked my entitled classmates. Their parents spoiled them, giving them money and buying them whatever they wanted without considering the consequences. Some even made fun of me for working as a supermarket stocker. Thankfully, some parents called out their spoiled kids for mocking those who worked to put themselves through school, but others didn’t care.

I appreciated everything I earned through hard work. Some entitled kids eventually had their parents cut them off, forcing them to get jobs. They quickly learned that making money is hard, but losing it is easy. Many business owners here in Little Bird and across the world went to school for business and finance while working part-time jobs. When entitled kids finally got jobs, they realized the pay wasn’t as high as their allowance and learned the value of money the hard way.

I knew entitled kids at Arcane University whose parents gave them credit cards for emergencies with $5,000 or $10,000 limits. They blew through that money in a single day, showing their lack of money management. In Little Bird, where prices haven’t changed since 1960, that’s a lot of money to waste so quickly.

Mitchell, Cadence, and Emily said in unison that if their professor allowed them to make up a missed test, they would take it. They wouldn’t just say “Oh well” and skip it, especially since tests and exams made up the majority of their grade.

Cadence, despite having a low IQ, said she would try to catch up on what she missed instead of slacking off. When report cards came out, she wouldn’t lie to her mother, saying she wanted to do it but the professor wouldn’t let her. At a university where many professors say, “Well, it’s your fault,” and won’t let you make up missed work, it’s crucial to take advantage of any opportunity to catch up. Those who blew off these chances learned the hard way that the real world doesn’t cater to them.

Cadence shared that she couldn’t lie to her mother because her mom was like a human lie detector. If she ever tried, her mom would be on her case for a week. Despite her low IQ, Cadence’s mom was always ready to drop everything to help her. She even offered to pay for Cadence’s college or university education, but Cadence chose not to go. She felt more comfortable staying at home rather than being out and about.

Mitchell, on the other hand, loved seeing entitled kids get a reality check. He appreciated when people were given second chances, like some of my professors who allowed students to make up missed tests. Some professors even let students retake tests if they weren’t satisfied with their grades, as long as they asked by the following Friday. Mitchell pointed out how lucky my classmates and I were to have such understanding professors. He had teachers in elementary, junior high, and high school who were strict—once you turned in a test, that was it. No second chances.

At Arcane University, 98% of the professors were strict about missed work. If you missed something, you had to rely on your classmates or a tutor to catch up because it would be on the test that Friday. Some students just winged it, hoping for the best.

Mitchell emphasized how fortunate we were to have professors who allowed us to catch up or make up missed work. He said that in his experience, once a grade was entered, it was final. Having professors who were willing to give second chances was a rare and valuable opportunity.

When Cadence asked how I managed to get through university, I explained that while my dad covered the tuition, I still took on a part-time job to help with expenses. I earned $27 a week, which added up to $1,404 a year. I categorized students into four groups:

1. Those who work and pay for their own tuition.

2. Those who work but have their tuition paid by their parents.

3. Those who receive scholarships and don’t work.

4. Those who are entitled and have their parents pay for everything but are a huge pain.

I fell into the second category. Many students worked various jobs—some honest but low-paying, others higher-paying but soul-draining or even illegitimate. Personally, I believe that if someone takes pride in their job, that’s what matters.

I also mentioned that some of my classmates had parents who were even worse. These parents would get their kids into Arcane University, pay the tuition, and then drop them off without a second thought, essentially abandoning them to learn life on their own. To me, that’s fifty shades of fucked up beyond all repair. These parents often neglected their kids, only to reappear when their children became successful or wealthy, hoping to benefit from their success.

When these parents tried to sue their successful children, my classmates would hire the best lawyers to dismantle their parents’ cases and expose their lies. In Little Bird, liars are often exposed because their stories don’t match the truth. This experience taught me a lot about resilience and the importance of standing up for oneself.

Mitchell often says, “All children deserve parents, but not all parents deserve to have kids.” It’s a harsh truth that resonates with many of us. I shared with him how some students I know have family members who seem to have never read "The Boy Who Cried Wolf." These family members often claim to be sick, using excuses like “I have cancer” to gain sympathy, even when they’re perfectly fine. Over time, this constant lying backfires.

I explained that, just like in the story, the moral is clear. “This shows how liars are rewarded, even if they tell the truth, no one believes them.” When people repeatedly lie about being sick, eventually, no one believes them, even if they genuinely fall ill. It’s a sad reality.

After giving my plate to Mitchell I went to lay down on Rose’s bed while Emily went and slept on Mckinney’s bed.