“Young Smith, look at your fellow recruits over there,” Boris spoke mockingly, turning his attention to the recruit who sat next to him in the medical shed.

  “Yes, Dr Pavlov.” Neptune obeyed the orders, placing the papers he was reading on the table before giving his full attention to the MO sitting across from him.

  “My goodness, Neptune, can you drop the act for once?”

  “What do you mean?

  “This Field Camp won’t help us in any way, shape or form. Do you honestly think our soldiers stand a chance against the Drazen Empire–” Boris leaned in closer. “–In direct confrontation?”

  Neptune wondered if the MO was trying to lure him into a trap.

  “I’ve seen the reports.”

  “What reports, Dr Pavlov?”

  “The medical check-ups you fellas have completed before getting cleared for training. I couldn’t help but sneak in and read the combat logs, too. What a mess. I’m truly thinking about deserting my duties and running off elsewhere.”

  “Run? To where?”

  “The world is huge, Neptune. Besides, you can just call my first name.”

  Boris shook his head, wondering why the recruit under his care still refused to drop all honorifics, even when they were all alone.

  “Dr Pavlov, I–never mind. Boris, I am not comfortable calling you by your first name, even if we are alone–”

  Before Neptune could finish his sentence, Boris interrupted him by snapping his fingers.

  “Your surname is Smith?” Boris smirked, to which his test subject nodded. “My, my, young Smith. I don’t think it is a coincidence that the North once had a Smith before you who achieved astronomical feats beyond the reach of human intelligence in this fallen realm. You have the same last name as the former, yet remain humble. I wholeheartedly believe you possess the ability to go far! The gods have blessed me with meeting you, young Smith!”

  Neptune remained silent, for he knew it was better to keep his mouth shut and think of a deflective response when faced with an outlandish, flamboyant buffoon sitting beside him. Yes, the Smith the buffoon was talking about shared the same last name as him, but to acknowledge it would only perpetuate this banter further.

  “I do not think I am close to the level this Smith you discuss. Then again, I don’t think we live in times where the pursuit of innovation is of utmost importance–”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Boris interrupted Neptune again, this time with conviction in his voice.

  “...This Smith I speak of, he’s the key to everything…”

  “What about this ‘Smith’ makes him the key?”

  “He knows way too much. That’s why, in a way…”

  “In what way?”

  “I think he knew. However, most don’t realise someone is pulling the strings behind this.”

  “Pulling the strings? Don’t you think that’s a lil too ‘far-fetched’?”

  “Heh, you really can’t see it.”

  “See what exactly?”

  “Over there.”

  Boris pointed at a particular group of soldiers sitting in the training shed. Unlike the other soldiers showing faces of displeasure at huddling closely without space, this group had a serene and relaxed vibe, as though nothing fazed them. That kind of zen felt odd for soldiers who should feel fear and uncertainty in this environment.

  “Hmm, you’re right.”

  Neptune remembered the chasm between first and second place.

  “You recognise that?”

  “Recognize what?”

  “There’s something peculiar about them,” Boris folded his arms, directing his laser pointer at the back of a soldier from that group, “That recruit over there, that’s the kingpin. He’s the head honcho calling the audible. All those hot routes. He’s the QB.”

  “It’s not nice to point this at someone.”

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  Boris turned off the laser pointer. “Fine, you get the point.”

  “Ok, what are you talking about again…?”

  “The QB, young Smith.”

  “QB?”

  “The quarterback.”

  “What in the world is a quarterback?”

  “Young Smith, you have much to learn. I suggest you read some sports history.”

  “Sports?! You mean the same distraction emperors in history would utilise to prevent their serfs from reading between the lines?”

  Boris grinned mischievously. “Damn, I was right about you.”

  “Right about what?”

  “Anyways, that’s the guy.”

  “Who, what? Which guy? You’re making me more confused.”

  Neptune traced the switched-off laser beam’s trajectory to that soldier’s back. Of course, he knew who that was. However, what piqued his curiosity was how Boris derived this conclusion so quickly.

  “That recruit, there’s something about him. He has that presence.”

  Neptune eyed Boris coldly.

  “Please enlighten me, greatest doctor in the history of the United Atlantea Federation.”

  “Bravo, say it with conviction this time.”

  “Dear Dr Boris Pavlov, the greatest doctor of the United Atlantea Federation, humbly enlighten me on your intellectual thesis–”

  “It’s here, Dr Pavlov!” One of the medics called out to them.

  “Wait a second, is that what I think it is?”

  Neptune caught a whiff of something that should not be possible in the wild. Something tantalising. Mouthwatering. Savoury.

  A supply assistant placed two white boxes on the MO’s table. “Dr Pavlov, this is for you and the recruit.”

  Neptune licked his lips. He had his sights on the boxes as the distinct smell became too strong to ignore.

  “How?”

  “You’re acting weird.” Boris opened a white box, unveiling the piping warm and aromatic contents in front of his test subject who had accepted his fate of combat rations for the entire Field Camp.

  “Is…that for me?” Neptune swallowed hard at the delectable pork cubes and sauteed vegetables in Boris’s ration box. “How could I–”

  “That’s why I said you’re smart, unlike these idiotic recruits. Talk again and I’ll eat your portion. You recruits don’t know when to shut up, even during mealtime. We’ll carry on later.”

  Without hesitation, Neptune reached out and grabbed the white box. Like a feral beast on the brink of losing his sanity, he gorged on the box of freshly cooked food like a wandering nomad discovering an oasis in the desert.

  After Boris finished his lunch, he burped loudly and rested his hands on his belly. “Have you heard of the hidden rulers of Atlantea–not this phoney bureaucratic mess known as the United Atlantea Federation? Eh, you finished lunch quicker than me.”

  “Of course, I haven’t had a proper meal since yesterday.” Neptune licked his lips. “I’ve heard of some tale regarding a shining eyes founder but that’s about it. I believe what I know is just folklore passed down through–”

  “You’re mistaken, young Smith,” Boris couldn’t resist stopping Neptune in his tracks, “That folklore isn’t some stupid tale told to the children of Atlantea to make them fall asleep. That’s some real truth right there…”

  “How do you know it's real?”

  “The first Atlanteans are the Temporean family, the true unseen rulers of Atlantea. Everyone is an expendable piece of trash to them. You. Me. Everyone here…”

  Boris pointed at himself and Neptune before gesturing at all the soldiers–commanders and recruits–in the shed.

  “...And the entire continent of Atlantea.”

  Neptune never imagined that someone apart from him knew of their existence, especially with the amount of knowledge hidden from the masses by the censors. Yet, he chose to assume a look of disbelief and shock to permit Boris to carry on his speech.

  “However!!!”

  “However?”

  Boris attempted to build up suspense…which failed.

  “However…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t understand! Nothing makes sense! If it doesn’t make dollars, it doesn’t make sense!”

  “What do you not understand, greatest doctor in the Federation’s history?”

  “This!”

  Boris pointed at the kingpin again, this time with his index finger.

  “Alright, then?”

  “But it does not make sense! Not at all. I can’t comprehend why.”

  Boris switched to a thinking pose, questioning whether this soldier’s existence in Pelican’s Reservoir made sense.

  “What doesn’t make sense?”

  “That soldier. Wait for it, just wait, young Smith.”

  Finally, their target turned around. His back was no longer facing them and his face came into full view. Except, somehow, someway, this soldier was looking directly at both of them, with his sapphire-blue eyes giving off an authoritative, serene air. With no words spoken by the soldier, both men held their collective breath, soaking in the feeling of having someone close to a god paying attention to them, mere mortals living in his realm.

  “That soldier…”

  Boris’s jaw hadn’t recovered since it dropped to the floor.

  “The question is–”

  “Why in the world is a recruit like him sent here to die?”

  “Why in the world is a soldier like him sent here to die?”

  Both men completed each other’s sentence with synchronicity. They couldn’t fathom why someone from that family could send their very own to the battlefield–where they would meet a cruel fate, with death being one of the possibilities. They could have utilised their family’s power to pull the strings, ensuring their kind would remain well hidden from plain sight and live off the backs of their wage slaves through taxation.

  Without speaking further, they knew the rabbit hole went deeper than they could ever fathom.