'A day like any other,' Rafael thought as he looked up at the sky while disembarking from the camouflaged transport ship with the other recruits.
'Here I am, 10 years later, and this place hasn’t changed at all.'
Fort Duque de Caxias, located in Brasília, the political capital of the South American Pact, was the largest military and training facility in the Southern Hemisphere. Built in 2030 as part of the military investment by the Pact, it received recruits from all over South America, and Rafael was one of them.
'Damn family tradition... I could’ve gone straight to the academy,' he muttered as he checked the time, seeing that it was already 07:30.
Rafael, familiar with military insignias and ranks, quickly noticed camouflaged buses with several 3rd Sergeants, some 2nd Sergeants, and Lieutenants, all eyeing the recruits like hunters watching their prey.
'Damn.'
“HURRY UP, YOU MONSTERS, AND GET OFF THE TRANSPORT! YOU HAVE 5 MINUTES TO FIND YOUR BUS AND GRAB A SEAT!” The one shouting was a 3rd Sergeant, and he seemed to be the most muscular of the bunch.
Even before the Sergeant finished speaking, some of the quicker recruits had already started running, Rafael among them. The other non-commissioned officers and officers said nothing, merely observing—they knew what was coming. As expected, more than half the recruits were still confused among the buses when a whistle blew.
“STOP! EVERYONE OUT! IN FRONT OF ME!”
Those who had already boarded the buses scrambled out, nearly trampling one another, while those who were still outside gathered in front of the Sergeant.
“You’re all garbage! A simple order was given, and you couldn’t follow it, and that needs to be fixed!” He began, “When I finish my sentence with ‘one, two,’ you will respond with ‘three, four, 9th Company,’ understood?!”
“Yes, sir!” a completely uncoordinated chorus answered.
“Get into push-up position! ONE, TWO!”
“THREE, FOUR, 9TH COMPANY!”
“30-0,” the Sergeant commanded, his voice booming like a drum, reaching everyone without the need to shout.
In the end, several couldn’t even complete 20 push-ups, and some of the instructors frowned and spoke loudly without caring if they were overheard.
“This is the worst group I’ve ever seen; not even half of them completed all the push-ups.”
“They’re more lost than a blind man in a shootout—we could start eliminating them right here, couldn’t we?”
The non-commissioned officer who had been in charge until now stood up. “Attention, everyone on your feet!” He waited for everyone to stand and continued, “No one forced you to come here; the only thing keeping you here is yourselves! So, starting tomorrow, there will be no physical or psychological punishment for you…” The recruits seemed unable to believe what he was saying.
'But… there’s always a but.'
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“…But if you don’t achieve the required grades, you’re expelled. If you fail the physical evaluation, you’re expelled. Lack of discipline? Expelled. I don’t like your face? Expelled. There are no second chances.”
He let the gravity of his words sink in with the recruits. Many of them were from the SDPs, so getting kicked out of the armed forces meant a direct sentence back there, living like garbage and eating recycled crap.
“Now, gentlemen, we have a long day ahead of us, so…”
The Sergeant grinned, a sadistic smile that the recruits would fear even when they were on the verge of retirement.
“…you have 5 minutes to get on the right bus. MOVE IT!"
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From what Rafael saw today, the Fort was a city in its own right, gigantic. He was in the 3rd platoon of four in a company, and there were at least 18 companies of recruits alone. The first day passed, and they were all storing their belongings in fingerprint-locked lockers inside the barracks—a 20x10 building with 25 bunk beds. Additionally, everyone with any electronic device had to turn it in at the supply depot, and it would only be returned upon completing the course. Or getting expelled. Each recruit received a TacLink, a modified mini tablet that Rafael doubted he could break even if he tried.
“Hey, man, everything alright? We were in the same line in São Paulo,”
Finally having some free time, he managed to talk to his bunkmate, the same man who had silenced all the protesters that morning. He was of average height, about 1.70m, with dark skin and the same haircut as all the recruits—cut to a 2 on top and a 1 on the sides. Rafael extended his hand in greeting.
“Rafael Andrada, and you?” The young man paused and just looked at him, and when Rafael was about to withdraw his hand, he finally shook it.
“Pierre, Pierre Menye,” he replied in fluent Portuguese, but with a clear French accent. “Sorry to ask, but you seem way too ‘‘proper’’ to be in the enlisted ranks.”
Which was true—Rafael stood at 1.81m, and it was clear he never had trouble finding food. His hair was black and short, his eyes light, almost gray, and his skin tanned. He wasn’t muscular, but far from having any excess fat.
“Family stuff. I’m just here for my term and then I’m out. What did you think of today?” Rafael asked, eager to steer the topic away from his family.
“Nothing too crazy, but it’s been years since I’ve eaten this well.”
“True, even for people outside the SDPs, it’s hard and extremely expensive to find anything that isn’t made of soy.”
A bugle sounded through the barracks, and the lights automatically went out. Many things had changed over the decades, but the armed forces still loved their traditions.
“From what they said today, tomorrow the real training begins. So, we better get some sleep,” Pierre said.
“Okay,” Rafael responded as he climbed into his bunk.
But instead of going to sleep, he pulled out his TacLink and started reading one of the books that were allowed to download. ‘Know the past to understand the present and prepare for the future… At least that’s what Dad used to say.’ It was a history book detailing some aspects of World War III.
During the year 2029, the President of the then Russian Federation had his transport shot down by European drones controlled by AI, patrolling the borders against refugees. Europe didn’t have enough manpower to patrol its borders, and due to the possibility of signal jammers, they had to find a way to make them work without an operator behind them. So, they created AI for them.
It’s not entirely clear whether it was a program failure or something else, but due to the extensive signal jammers used by the Russian protective forces for the President, who was on his way to the 84th UN General Assembly for peace talks about Ukraine, the drones identified them as enemies. The Europeans could only watch as the drones shot down all the Russian aircraft without being able to turn them off. Additionally, when the aircraft crashed, many still had the jammers on, causing the armored drones on the borders to massacre the refugees from the new Russian offensive. In less than an hour, more than 50,000 people had been killed before either side even understood what was happening.
Rafael checked the time and saw it was almost 23:00. He placed the TacLink under his pillow and turned over to sleep.