Spencer sat in the back seat of Royce's mom's car as she drove them to school. The sun's bright-orange rays beamed blindingly through the windshield. Although it wasn't yet hot, Mrs Delgado had turned on the air conditioning in preparation for the sizzling heat to come.
Spencer had spent the night at Royce's house cramming for the morning's chemistry final. When they awoke, Mrs Delgado had pancakes, toast, and juice ready for them before she drove them to school. Now she asked the inane questions Spencer noticed all parents asked.
“You boys ready for the exam?” said Mrs Delgado.
“I hope so,” replied Spencer.
“Mom, we'll be fine.”
“Is it multiple choice?”
“No, we had to memorize all the formulas so we can solve the problems,” Spencer explained.
“I think there're a couple fill-in-the-blanks,” Royce added.
“I really appreciate all the help you've given my son this past week, Spencer.”
“It's okay, Mrs Delgado. Glad to help.”
“This weekend I'll take you boys to see whatever movie you want.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Thanks, Mrs Delgado.”
The car turned the corner into the school parking lot. Mrs Delgado suddenly leaned forward. “Uh-oh, what's this?”
Spencer craned his neck over the seat to see what she was referring to. Sitting in the parking lot was a military van. Three men stood next to it. As their car approached, one of the men stepped forward and directed Mrs Delgado to park next to them.
Mrs Delgado rolled down her window.
“What's going on? Did I do something wrong?”
Spencer looked across the parking lot where all of his classmates watched and wondered.
“Are you Mrs Lisa Delgado?” asked the soldier.
“Yes?”
“I need you to turn off your vehicle.”
“Is this about my husband? Is this about Mike?”
“No, ma'am.”
Spencer noticed one of the other soldiers — a sergeant — staring into his palm where he most likely held some kind of device. He looked up from his palm and directly at Spencer. Then he pointed to the third soldier and the two approached the car, both standing on either side of the back doors. The Sergeant stepped forward to take over.
“There's nothing wrong, ma'am, we're simply looking for this young man.” The Sergeant turned to Spencer. “Spencer Orlando. You need to come with us.”
The door opened and Spencer felt himself being pulled out and urged toward the van. Spencer looked over his shoulder and saw Royce staring dumbly at Spencer as he silently mouthed, “What the fuck?” Next to Royce, his mother was trying to exit the car, but she was prevented from doing so by the first soldier who stood firmly in the way.
“What's going on?” asked Spencer.
“Please follow me,” replied the sergeant. He made it sound like a request, but Spencer had no choice as the man tightened the grip on his arm.
“But I have to take my chemistry exam,” Spencer protested.
The soldier shook his head. “Not today.”
By now, Spencer could hear Mrs Delgado's frantic voice rising in pitch as she argued with the first soldier.
“You can't do this?” she pleaded.
“We have our orders, ma'am. Don't interfere or you'll be arrested.”
“Do his parents know? Where are his parents?” she asked.
“They've been informed and they're cooperating. I suggest you do the same.”
“He's only a boy. This is illegal!” she screamed.
“Please, stay in your car.”
She called out to Spencer, “I'm going to get your parents. Don't let them take you anywhere.”
Mrs Delgado slammed shut the door she'd been trying so hard to open and nearly ran over the soldier's foot as she peeled away, roaring past the sign that read, ‘Slow, School Zone.’
The sergeant stopped when they arrived at the van. He released Spencer's arm and looked into his palm where Spencer could now see the electronic device. The sergeant read from the screen:
“Spencer Orlando. According to Article 9, subsection C, paragraphs one through nine of the 31st Amendment, because of your exceptional skills and outstanding ability, you have hereby been called to active duty in the service of your country. Effective immediately.”
“But I'm only sixteen!” pleaded Spencer. “I'm supposed to have two more years.”
“Your country needs you,” the second soldier replied stoically.
“But I'm just a kid,” Spencer whined.
“It's time to man up,” ordered the Sergeant. “Get in.”
Spencer climbed into the van where he was directed to take the seat furthest back. “Can I go home and pack my stuff?”
“The military will supply you with everything you need.”
“What about my parents?”
“They've been informed of your status.”
“Can I at least say goodbye?”
“I'm afraid there isn't time.”
The sergeant turned to the second soldier and asked, “Anyone else on the roster?”
“Just him. Our next recruit is in the next county, about twenty minutes away.”
“Okay, let's get rolling.” The sergeant climbed into the back of the van and sat next to Spencer who was staring out the window.
Spencer pointed to his classmates and asked, “What about them? How come they aren't going?”
“Underage exceptions are only made for the very best online players such as yourself.” He then added, “I've seen your stats. They're impressive.”
“But…” Spencer couldn't believe he was saying this, “the game is just for fun.”
“Not anymore. It's now a recruiting tool testing for reflexes and reaction time. I'm sorry, son. I'm just doing my duty.”
The van started. Spencer heard the bell ring and watched as his friends slowly wandered inside with the other students.
“I don't agree with the new law, but I have to enforce it.” Spencer felt the hesitation in the soldier's voice before he continued. “I hate to say this, but personally speaking… I don't think you'll last five minutes.”
Spencer took one last look at his school. In a few minutes, his friends would be taking their exams; their worst fear — flunking and going to summer school. Spencer turned away. Sinking down into his seat, he remembered the words of one of his online opponents: There are no kill streaks on the battlefield.
Shatner Rules
Weston Ochse
“How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life.”
I shot Ohirra in the faceplate eight times, then spun and shot Sula in his faceplate eight more. They were too stunned to move as I drew my harmonic blade. Stranz was bringing out his minigun to fire at me in self-defense. I swung with all my power and hewed down through the gun with the blade. Then I brought the blade back up, severing Stranz’s right arm just above the elbow, bisecting the sergeant’s stripes for which he’d been so proud. Blood shot out of the arm covering Sula’s torso like a scene out of a Kurosawa samurai film.
Stranz screamed.
Sula screamed.
I screamed.
We all screamed for ice cream.
I shot up in my bunk, sweating, eyes searching for any threat, wondering where I was, ready to kill anything that moved. My vision was hazy. I wiped at my eyes and they came away wet. I felt the misery of one who couldn’t hold their bladder… I couldn’t hold my emotions. I wondered how long I’d been crying in my sleep.