Chapter 3 Preparation Harsh

  I find Lee howling on the living room floor as he arranges all his luggage on our carpet. Mom clearly gave up helping him since she’s busy preparing food. Sometimes Lee needs space. And so do we. I’m glad we have a bit more in these family units on the former cruise ship we call home.

  “Hi, Mom, need any help?”

  My mom turns from her work in the kitchen to smile at me, Asian eyes crinkling, “No, dear. Not necessary. Would you get dishes and utensils out on table?” Her accented English calms me down and Lee also shuts up as he recognizes the smell of lunch. Fresh fish, a few shellfish, and some hydroponically grown greens. Mom somehow got hold of wild rice grown in the experimental rice paddies and is carefully removing it from our rice cooker. It’s Mom’s favorite appliance but she rarely gets to use it.

  Lee sits down at the table, chopsticks in hand, waiting for us to finish.

  I wryly say, “You could help us by getting the water glasses filled, Lee.”

  “But, Gēgē, I’m still thinking of the perfect arrangement for packing! I can’t lose focus now.”

  “Right.” I roll my eyes and tousle his hair as I walk by to grab cups from our cabinet. None of them match. They’re all salvaged. I pick my favorite red mug and Lee’s usual clear glass. The door opens and Dad walks in for lunch.

  His calm voice is hard to hear over the closing door as it squeaks a metallic protest but I know it’s his same refrain, “Best perk of my job is a home-cooked meal.” His English lacks any accent. It’s like he’s saying it so perfectly it lacks any distinct character.

  Dad walks over and hugs Mom from behind, he leans over kissing her on top of her head. She giggles and lightly whacks his hand to protest his interference. I feel a little twinge of jealousy as I wonder if I’ll ever be as tall as him. Seems unlikely. He’s only half Asian after all. The rest is Russian. It’s weird I’m even thinking about ethnicities today. It’s never really mattered to anyone on Sojourn beyond preventing genetic abnormalities. I guess chasing Old Garth really put me in a mood. Or I’m getting used to thinking like a landlubber again. For some reason they always seem to divide themselves by appearance. It’s so weird they care more about how they look than how well they can get along.

  I’m filling up two cups from the sink, glad the plumbing is working again, when Dad reaches out to pat my head and I playfully dodge before leaning back for a hug. As I place the cups on the table, Dad finishes the job by filling another two. He sits down and tousles Lee’s hair. Lee grunts an acknowledgement as he clicks his chopsticks thoughtfully together.

  I whisper to Dad, “Lee’s still working on his pack. Maybe you can help him after lunch?” Dad nods back to me.

  “Speaking of preparation, we should do some light exercises and get Lee more used to listening for your instructions after I’m done with work tonight.”

  I nod remembering how well previous practice with Lee has gone. Lee’s fine when he’s not distracted. Reality doesn’t play so nicely. I deflect and ask Dad, “How’s the armor project going? Reggie’s always super excited about it and pestering me to ask you.” Reggie’s North African ancestry, chiseled jaw, and dark piercing eyes are a hit with the girls. Apparently, you could ‘feel yourself sink into them’. According to the girls. I’m surprised we’re friends. I don’t have much of a social life compared to Reggie. Frankly, I’m envious he has twenty centimeters on me in height. But he still can’t beat me in sparring. Usually.

  “You know I’m not supposed to give any details, Matt. I can say we have more data than expected to examine. Testing has gone well.”

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  The rest of lunch goes as usual. After we finish cleaning up, Dad tries his hand at helping Lee pack. Lee shows Dad how the organization is going. Dad starts taking two items in each hand.

  Dad asks, “Which one do you need to ensure you see tomorrow?”

  “Right one.”

  Dad continues. Lee answers until the pile is much smaller. Dad packs the small pile. Lee reaches for the bag and Dad stops him, guiding his hand to the remaining large pile.

  Dad takes two more items in each hand. Dad asks, “Which one will help you survive the week?”

  Lee focuses and the process continues. I move to my own room and check my prepacked bags. They’ve only been sitting around the last month. A silent reminder I wouldn’t be stuck here forever. I finish checking and repacking my own bags in a few minutes. I put in one sketchbook just in case yet it won’t matter. I don’t feel the need to pack any extra precious paper or drawing equipment since I can use the tablet’s e-ink screen and built-in pen at a pinch. Then Lee might not spend as much time bugging me to draw more creatures for his game. Fat chance. Instead he’ll badger me about every new tweak he’s making to every minor mechanic. It’s hard to remember all the changes after the fifth time. I slap my bag to make sure it stays zipped and sneak towards the main room.

  I peek into the cabin’s main room and sign to Dad I’m going to train. He nods at me as he continues helping my little brother. Mom and I quietly exit our unit. I give Mom a quick hug as she heads off to the classrooms for a shift teaching and I head off to train.

  I spend a quiet afternoon at the Gym Hex running the obstacle course, and sparring with Reggie in the simulators. It’s a nice vacation from thinking about the future.

  The full body sim suit with haptic feedback feels like a second skin as I step into the VR chamber. Reggie earns chocolate flavoring to his ration bars when he tags me on the chin in our third spar. I win the fight shortly afterwards as he overextends with his next strike. A mistake I exploit. I skitter forward and slip behind Reggie’s back, putting his sim in a chokehold. We don’t get many more rounds since we didn’t juice up the generators today with the stationary bikes. As we clean up, I put in an order by tablet to pay for Reggie’s prize with my new Crypticks and treat myself to a few ration bars too. Mine are cheaper umami flavored. Cocoa is much harder to supply on our hydroponic farms than the fish we catch on our voyage.

  In a regulated fight or match, Reggie and I are practically even due to Reggie’s time training with the security team, his height advantage, and longer reach. Normally, that’s not something a fighter can overcome in a ring. Fairly. Fighting me isn’t exactly fair in the sims. Dad didn’t train me to fight in a ring or to subdue a target as my first instinct. He taught me to survive. Any way possible. In the simulators we can practice deadly techniques. The slight sting our haptic suits deliver is the worst consequence we face.

  Reggie is a lot easier to fight than the simulated Holos Dad runs. Nine times out of ten, I’m dead facing a Holo. Fleeing is a bit more likely to give me a chance to live. Sometimes. You can’t outrun birds. You have to seek shelter. Block the Holos’ sensors if you can. I’ll never forget the hummingbird simulation going for my eyes. Dad ‘encouraged’ me to keep practicing an eye block since most Holo birds go for a human’s eyes in approximately seventy-seven percent of recorded attacks. According to data gathered from what few survivors we’ve interviewed. I couldn’t stop blinking all day after that living nightmare, instinctively protecting my eyes.

  In the present, I watch Reggie’s corn row covered-head bob above the crowd as he leaves for his next job helping our fishermen. I bet he’s saving up Crypticks for his own cabin. He’ll be eighteen next year. I head back to check on Lee. Lee finally has his bag zipped by the time I return. I suppress a shudder thinking of how long packing a second bag would take. Lee and I work together on picking up dinner from Chef at the canteen. Chef’s battered music box warbles an old French song as we promise to return the bowls tomorrow.

  The music fades into the background as Lee and I carefully carry our cargo back home. I help Lee with homework and grudgingly promise to add a few things like his favorite teddy bear to my pack, until our parents get back. After dinner Dad takes us back to the Gym Hex and runs us through a few Holographic simulations. We have to recharge the batteries once with the stationary bikes, but with three of us it goes faster than normal.

  I’m feeling good about tomorrow! Lee listened to all my directions. Dad didn’t criticize us too much when we were a bit slow reacting to fake Holos. I bet Mom encouraged this change from his usual methods so we weren’t stressing out. I lay back on my pillow on our bottom bunk, counting down the hours to freedom as I listen to my brother’s gentle breathing above.

  Tomorrow I’ll be outside!