Karl especially loved assuming the role of his division’s namesake, Genghis Khan, and ordering his plebes to pile up the heads of villagers.
Tom and Beamer entered a thirteenth floor training room. It resembled the one Marsh and Olivia had showed him on his tour: vast and dim, with a series of cots in a circle, EKG monitors at the ends.
“Do we need to put on electrodes or something?” Tom asked Beamer, pointing to the EKGs.
“No. There’s a neural wire under the cot, and it goes in your brain stem access port.”
Tom’s hand flew back to his neck, to the round port he’d felt earlier.
“It’s how you hook into the simulations and get downloads, too,” Beamer added. “Just stick the wire in, and the neural processor will do the rest.”
They settled on empty beds. Tom spotted Wyatt Enslow already perched on one of them, her long legs curled up in front of her.
Tom said, “Hey.”
She replied, “Shh.”
Nice to see you, too , Tom thought.
Plebes continued to shuffle in, and then Elliot Ramirez came and slid onto the edge of the last empty cot. The EKG monitor bathed his black hair in a faint green glow. “Good to see you’re all on time.” He beamed at Tom. “Now, let’s give a warm welcome to our newest member.”
Awkward clapping followed. Tom felt for a strange moment like he’d accidentally wandered into a support group.
“You see, Tom,” Elliot went on, “I don’t like to throw my plebes into a simulation like a lot of other instructors do. It’s important we all have a chance to chat first, get out some of our emotions, decompress from the tensions of the day. I like to get my group thinking about self-empowering topics. Today, we’re going to discuss something very important. And that thing is perhaps the most important concept of all: self-actualization.”
Elliot was silent a moment to let the lofty words sink in. Then he launched into a tedious description of something called Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. He related those needs to anecdotes from his own life, and other moving tales of triumph over adversity he’d read in letters from his many adoring fans. Then he veered into a discussion about the triumph of the human spirit.
Tom grew so restless with the talk about self-empowerment that he almost shifted his weight right off the cot. He knew—just knew—that Heather and even that Genghis Division guy, Karl Marsters, had been running their own groups through fantastic simulations for over a half hour while Elliot perched in that preschooler circle with them, delighting himself with the sound of his own voice.
After what seemed like an eternity, Elliot gave a start. “Wow. Has it been thirty minutes? Time sure zipped by, didn’t it?”
Tom laughed. He muffled it behind his hand and pretended it was a cough. Elliot flicked him a glance but bought it. Wyatt shot him a ferocious scowl, and Beamer gave a not-so-subtle conspiratorial grin.
“Let’s get started with the simulation, everyone,” Elliot called. “Hook yourselves in.”
A shuffling sound filled the chamber as the plebes around him leaned down to grab neural wires from beneath the cots, then they connected them to their brain stem ports and stretched out on their cots. Tom heard clicks throughout the room, and he reached down to grab his own wire. He was so excited suddenly that his hands shook as he unwound it.
“Hold on there, Hot-to-Trot.”
It took Elliot’s grip on his shoulder to make Tom realize he was the one being addressed.
Elliot raised a finger. He seated himself at the foot of Tom’s cot, waiting out the others. Within moments, they were as good as alone. The rest of the plebes had lapsed into silence and utter stillness. The EKG monitors registered the steady electric lines of their heartbeats.
“Is something wrong?” Tom blurted.
“Tom, I realize we’re not military regulars, but I’m your superior, and you need to address me as sir.”
“Right.”
Elliot waited.
“Right, sir
Tom and Beamer entered a thirteenth floor training room. It resembled the one Marsh and Olivia had showed him on his tour: vast and dim, with a series of cots in a circle, EKG monitors at the ends.
“Do we need to put on electrodes or something?” Tom asked Beamer, pointing to the EKGs.
“No. There’s a neural wire under the cot, and it goes in your brain stem access port.”
Tom’s hand flew back to his neck, to the round port he’d felt earlier.
“It’s how you hook into the simulations and get downloads, too,” Beamer added. “Just stick the wire in, and the neural processor will do the rest.”
They settled on empty beds. Tom spotted Wyatt Enslow already perched on one of them, her long legs curled up in front of her.
Tom said, “Hey.”
She replied, “Shh.”
Nice to see you, too , Tom thought.
Plebes continued to shuffle in, and then Elliot Ramirez came and slid onto the edge of the last empty cot. The EKG monitor bathed his black hair in a faint green glow. “Good to see you’re all on time.” He beamed at Tom. “Now, let’s give a warm welcome to our newest member.”
Awkward clapping followed. Tom felt for a strange moment like he’d accidentally wandered into a support group.
“You see, Tom,” Elliot went on, “I don’t like to throw my plebes into a simulation like a lot of other instructors do. It’s important we all have a chance to chat first, get out some of our emotions, decompress from the tensions of the day. I like to get my group thinking about self-empowering topics. Today, we’re going to discuss something very important. And that thing is perhaps the most important concept of all: self-actualization.”
Elliot was silent a moment to let the lofty words sink in. Then he launched into a tedious description of something called Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. He related those needs to anecdotes from his own life, and other moving tales of triumph over adversity he’d read in letters from his many adoring fans. Then he veered into a discussion about the triumph of the human spirit.
Tom grew so restless with the talk about self-empowerment that he almost shifted his weight right off the cot. He knew—just knew—that Heather and even that Genghis Division guy, Karl Marsters, had been running their own groups through fantastic simulations for over a half hour while Elliot perched in that preschooler circle with them, delighting himself with the sound of his own voice.
After what seemed like an eternity, Elliot gave a start. “Wow. Has it been thirty minutes? Time sure zipped by, didn’t it?”
Tom laughed. He muffled it behind his hand and pretended it was a cough. Elliot flicked him a glance but bought it. Wyatt shot him a ferocious scowl, and Beamer gave a not-so-subtle conspiratorial grin.
“Let’s get started with the simulation, everyone,” Elliot called. “Hook yourselves in.”
A shuffling sound filled the chamber as the plebes around him leaned down to grab neural wires from beneath the cots, then they connected them to their brain stem ports and stretched out on their cots. Tom heard clicks throughout the room, and he reached down to grab his own wire. He was so excited suddenly that his hands shook as he unwound it.
“Hold on there, Hot-to-Trot.”
It took Elliot’s grip on his shoulder to make Tom realize he was the one being addressed.
Elliot raised a finger. He seated himself at the foot of Tom’s cot, waiting out the others. Within moments, they were as good as alone. The rest of the plebes had lapsed into silence and utter stillness. The EKG monitors registered the steady electric lines of their heartbeats.
“Is something wrong?” Tom blurted.
“Tom, I realize we’re not military regulars, but I’m your superior, and you need to address me as sir.”
“Right.”
Elliot waited.
“Right, sir
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