City-21 “Kyiv”, UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion

Protectorate Collection point G4

Kamil Teodoryanu and others, August 12, 2049, 6:58 PM

Kamil cracked his neck wearily.

“Boy, it’s been a while since I pushed myself that hard!”

The last half hour had been particularly grueling for him.

He was exhausted. And it all started with being assigned to the Red Group of the Protectorate’s Public Efficiency Class…

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Jumping out of the truck, Kamil, Gleb, Vratislav and Julia immediately dashed towards the nearest descent into the subway – time was pressing.

“Good thing Dasha gave us a lift; we’d never have made it on foot,” Julia still managed to comment while running.

“Save… your breath, Jules,” Vratislav said, trying to keep up with the two athletes, who had already sped away; nobody wanted to be late, it’s almost 6 PM now!

Down below, however, they had to slow down – they encountered a dense stream of people coming from Beresteiska subway station.

“Holy cow!” exclaimed the restless Julia. “I bet they’re all heading to the muster point, look at them rush!”

Indeed, unlike the usual traffic jam somewhere in the subway during rush hour, people moved quickly, almost running.

“No kidding, why else there’d be a throng like this?” Gleb glanced around briefly and was the first to plunge into the flow, clearing a path toward the middle, where no one walked – everyone ran. “Shake a leg, guys, just a couple of minutes left!”

Closer to the surface exit, the stream oddly began to slow to a walk. Also, a low-frequency hum, resembling buzzing, became clearly audible. But it didn’t sound like a plane, helicopter, or drone. The hum intensified, but the source remained undiscovered until they reached the surface.

From the exit side, intermittent exclamations such as “holy crap,” “what a monster,” “goddamn!” could be heard.

“What the heck is going on up there!” Kamil couldn’t stand it any longer when the pace slowed drastically and people almost stopped.

“Excuse me, we’re in a hurry!” And he surged forward with the grace and unstoppable force of an icebreaker. People grumbled but preferred to let him through – his “two-plus” meters of height and solid build allowed him to perform even more impressive feats.

However, having pushed through to the top, the young people themselves nearly got stuck, creating another bottleneck. But the cause of the jam became apparent: looking up, they saw a huge aircraft slowly descending from the sky, at least three hundred meters long!

This cyclopean contraption, resembling a giant black airplane built on a canard aerodynamic configuration, was indeed frightening – a behemoth blocking the sun, inexorably landing, it seemed, right on the heads of the amassed “recruits.”

The guys didn’t immediately notice the myriad of small Protectorate drones circling menacingly around it, like remoras around a whale shark. Indeed, the military purpose of this ‘airplane’ was unquestionable. The partially opened hatches on the nose revealed clusters of missiles, ready for launch, though they appeared minuscule like matchsticks against the overall size of the ship.

However, the participants of a student startup developing racing aerodrones first noticed another oddity – the main wing was clearly too small to lift such a colossus into the air!

“This thing killed my belief in the laws of physics,” Julia murmured softly, eyes wide open at the sight of the monster. “Slav, how is this even possible? It doesn’t have any vertical thrust engines! Why and by what does THIS fly?!”

“Just because, and by air,” Gleb answered instead of Vratislav. “Guys, time, time! We can't dawdle...”

Cutting off his remark, the jet engines activated, smoothly turning the slowly descending machine. What had been a hum now turned into a ROAR that filled the street. They had to cover their ears and run forward. If they could, the guys would have retreated back into the subway, but the crowd kept pressing on, and they could only move in one direction. Towards the gates.

Yes, the second shocking element on the surface turned out to be... not just a fence, but a veritable fortress wall! Five meters high, with gun towers, some sophisticated electronics on top, and numerous drones flying around the perimeter.

Under the G4 reception point, Protectorate occupied both skyscrapers of the design institute located here, adjoining buildings, and a significant piece of territory beyond that had been cordoned off. Even considering that a big part of the engaged area was allocated for a gigantic landing pad, the volume of work done was simply staggering.

Finally, the monster’s engines fell silent. The descended silence hit the ears, making everyone feel as if they had gone deaf, and the entrance to the territory appeared ahead.

On the large square along the walls were thirty closed booths. It was easy to understand what was required – above each booth either a “Vacant” or “Wait” sign lit up. And, apparently, people were passing through them further – no one had come back out yet.

“Well, let’s go, I guess,” Kamil said, moving towards the first booth that freed up.

Inside was a large holographic screen with a small shelf in front. As soon as the door shut, a pleasant blonde woman with her hair braided, dressed in a strict blue uniform adorned with golden insignia, appeared before him.

The woman smiled charmingly and asked something in a language that resembled German. Kamil understood almost everything, but the auto-translator kicked in just to be sure.

# language detected: Avrilian, simplified (the UNSA Protectorate)

“Eternal Sun, citizen. Your name?”

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“Kamil, Teodoryanu.”

“Your personal code, please.”

“4856-2931-4814-5211.”

“Good.” The woman pointed downwards where a compartment had opened below the screen, illuminating a “palm” icon. “Please, place your right hand here for a blood analysis.”

“Uhh… all right.” Kamil complied.

Something whirred inside the device, a soft whirring followed by a swift prick and a brief touch lasted only a few seconds.

“All done. One moment, please.”

After about twenty seconds…

“Kamil, preliminary analysis has confirmed your assignment to the Red Group of UNSA Public Efficiency Classes. Are you familiar with the requirements and conditions of this group?”

“Yes. It’s the warrior class.”

The hologram nodded.

“It's a bit more complex, but broadly, you are correct. Do you agree to these terms?”

“I agree,” the young man replied with a slightly hoarse voice.

The door on the opposite wall slid open.

“Follow the red line. Long may the Sun shine upon you, recruit,” the woman bid him farewell.

“Long may the Sun shine!” Not knowing quite how else to respond, Kamil proceeded through the door.

He was greeted by a corridor with gray plastic panel walls, marked by two bright lines on the floor – one blue, one red. Kamil chuckled softly and quickly followed the red line. The blue one veered off into a closed door rather quickly.

As he walked, a message popped up in the group chat from Julia and Vratislav:

[We got Blue Group, confirmed. All good, we’re off for skill testing. Good luck, guys! Hope to see you again!]

Kamil responded to the message. After navigating several turns and many numbered doors, he reached the entrance to the institute.

“How crafty. Whatever’s happening behind the fence, you can’t see it from here! And can’t go where you’re not supposed to.”

Inside the hall, the Protectorate had set up ten desks separated by two-meter opaque dividers, all occupied.

“Fascinating, they use real people here! I wonder if this happens in all groups, or if it’s a privilege just for the ‘reds’?” Kamil pondered, eyeing the attractive young women in stylish black-and-red uniforms. There was Gleb, already seated! “That sly dog always manages to get ahead of me... First time seeing live Protectorate personnel, not drones or holograms.”

When his turn came, he approached an available desk.

“Eternal Sun, Kamil.” He was met with a strict smile.

“Eternal Sun!”

“You’ve been recommended for the Red group of the Public Efficiency Classes. Congratulations. You are familiar with all the necessary information, I see.”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Now, you will undergo a test to confirm your readiness to receive the Red Passport and serve the Protectorate.”

The woman waved her hand over the desk, revealing a substantial technological device.

“Place your hand in the analyzer. Rest your palm on the sphere at the top and your forearm along the red line. Please, remain still during the operation.”

The lid closed. Kamil felt something spray on his skin followed by a quick prick, and within seconds his arm felt numb and lost sensation. He had to sit there for quite a while, long enough for another recruit to rotate through the adjacent desk.

Four minutes later, the device finally chirped briefly, flashed a yellow light, and swung open.

“Check complete,” the girl smiled pleasantly. “The numbness in your hand will fade in about ten minutes. Please, keep the patches on for a couple of hours.”

“Understood, thanks…”

The girl stood up, straightened herself, raised her right hand, and, bending it, placed her fist just above her chest, straightening her index and middle fingers.

“Brother recruit, the UNSA Protectorate welcomes you!”

A compartment in the desk slid open, from which she retrieved a red and black medallion hanging on a steel chain.

“All necessary data is now saved into the system. This medallion, equipped with a personal chip, is both a nod to tradition and a universal access key until your required implants are set. You’re now due for a series of tests to receive personal recommendations, select your specialization, and determine your rank within the group. Time is short, so proceed swiftly! Turn right down the corridor to room 104, choose any free locker. Your uniform will dispense from the automaton. Get dressed quickly and head up to the second floor, room 202, for your examination.”

Kamil nodded, thanked her, and dashed off to change. The changing room was deserted, plenty of lockers flashing the “available” signal. He quickly collected boots, pants, a jacket, and a t-shirt from a large dispenser near the wall and headed for the nearest green-lighted door.

The uniform, entirely black with bold red inserts, was remarkably comfortable, the fabric beyond reproach. The boots fit perfectly – likely crafted on the spot by the machine, given that to retrieve them, he had had to stand barefoot on a scanner platform.

He shoved his old clothes onto a shelf, though he had actually brought little with him.

“It feels like my volunteer serving in the Polis police force,” Kamil thought, stuffing his scant belongings away. “Feels like I’ve stepped back two years. I wonder if they’re hurrying because of an impending curfew? Or is there another reason? And what comes next?”

Room 202 – or rather a huge hall – welcomed him with a hectic atmosphere of Global Emergency Rush. There weren’t many Protectorate scientists around; the chaos was mostly contributed by bewildered numerous new recruits and an insane number of buzzing drones.

Unsure of what to do next, Kamil froze at the threshold.

“Eternal Sun, recruit!” A young red-haired man in a white coat with blue inserts and golden insignia suddenly appeared before him. “Your token, please!”

Kamil raised his hands to remove the chain, but the greeter quickly gestured to stop.

“No, no, recruit! Do not remove it! One only removes a warrior’s token once – at death before it’s sent to the Eternal Memory Hall. It’s tradition. Just tap it here,” he extended a small device.

The token touched the reader; the device beeped contentedly. The young scientist paused for a moment, then suddenly shouted across the hall:

“Günther! Another one to W-3!”

Another scientist, perhaps in his sixties with graying hair and a neat “professorial” beard, approached.

“Steffen! Stop yelling across the hall. You could have just called me. Though I was hoping we wouldn’t have any more extensive checks today... Go help Linda with the samples. You make too much noise greeting the newbies,” he noted Kamil’s waiting stance. “Eternal Sun, young man! Come on through, don’t just stand there... I was hoping for a quieter day, indeed…”

Kamil mumbled something akin to “Eternal Sun” and followed the scientist, who moved surprisingly swiftly through the hall.

They only stopped beside a massive construction resembling a large arch on a low circular platform. As they approached, the device sprang to life. Two large rods with half-spheres at the ends rose from the floor. A bright orange circle lit up in the center of the platform.

“Step onto the platform, young man. Good. Now, please place your hands on the half-spheres. Perfect. Now, stay still, I’m starting the process… Yes, don’t touch the fields with your hands – it’ll tear them off! And don’t move. And keep your hands on the sensors, by the way, it’s dangerous!”

The device hummed, emitted a sharp scent of ozone, and a brilliant plasma column formed around the arch. Kamil’s palms tingled painfully, and within a minute the sensation began to creep up his forearms.

“It might tingle a bit!” the scientist mumbled belatedly, engrossed at a neighboring terminal in augmented reality manipulations. “Just relax, don’t mind it. Everything is proceeding as expected. Hmm... how fascinating?... Yes, indeed! Wonderful, wonderful... Sergeant? Yes, Gunter Meissner speaking. Yes. Eternal Sun! Precisely. Another one for you. No. Yes, in 202. I don’t know, sergeant! No, only the basic. How could I have time? Did you see how many there were today, may the Sun protect me?! What’s it to me?! Exactly, sergeant, exactly! Yes! Indeed! Handle it yourself, finally, if they are so promising!”

With a soft whoosh, the plasma column vanished. The tingling, which had escalated from “slightly annoying” to “quite painful” and was creeping toward the shoulders, also disappeared instantly.

“All done, young man, old Gunter has finished his work. Stay here for a bit, someone will come for you personally. Yes, sergeant, I’ve told him already. And I still have plenty of work to do. Yes, plenty. Long days to you, Sun,” the scientist muttered, vanishing as swiftly as if evaporated. Kamil didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

All that was left for the “freshly minted recruit” was to wait, pondering “what the hell is happening here,” while examining his medallion.