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all at the same time. After a quick search on my phone, I figure out Voltaire was some kind of philosopher. There are little hidden quotes from him all over the place. “Those who can make you believe in absurdities, can make you commit atrocities,” was embroidered on my napkin. “It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere” was printed at the bottom of the menu. My personal favorite was printed on a book of matches left on the table, after the maître d’ lit the candle in the center, “If you want to know who controls you, look at who you are not allowed to criticize” From what I read about him online, I assume Voltaire meant these quotes to criticize the religious powers of his time. This adds a touch of irony to the fact that the restaurant is inside a church. Looking around though, I get the feeling the owners of this place are putting on a little esoteric display of civil disobedience against our atheist government system.

After dinner I wander the downtown area and find myself back at Forsyth Park, near my hotel. I walk around and look at the old monuments. They are far from their former glory, and now serve as a cautionary tale of how we got to where we are now. The constant struggle of greed and oppression, that have led us to a place, none of us truly want to be. Further into the park are the newer monuments, dedicated to the U.A., and President Lui. These monuments are, shiny and new, nestled in the beautiful lie of well-manicured lawns and flower beds, that we call progress. All the while we ignore the suffering of the least of those around us. We turn a blind eye, and we pretend it’s not Lui’s, child labor force being worked to death, for nothing more than to provide the perfect backdrop for Armageddon.

That is the only way I can describe what I saw in my vision at the church that day months ago. I try not to think of it, but I still see it in my sleep sometimes. I have spent the majority of my life in fear of being sent to one of Lui’s orphanages. I think of all those scared, suffering, kids and I know what they are thinking. If there is an end…bring it! I make it back to my room and decide I can’t stay here any longer. The next morning, I book a room closer to Tybee Island and spend the next three days lying on the beach, trying to escape the images in my head.

Chapter Ten Jump School

M onday morning, we get processed in at Fort Benning and are ready to go. Jump school is a mixture of all the military branches, but it is predominately army. Jump school requires a little more physically, but I am actually enjoying myself. There is more freedom here than at basic or AIT. Once you are done for the day, your time is your own. Lee, Weber, Abram, and I usually hang out at the end of the day. West keeps to himself; he is becoming increasingly hostile towards Abram. I ask her what it is about, but she won’t say. From previous comments he has made about her, I can only guess, he asked her out and she said no.

Ground week and tower week fly by and now we find ourselves toeing the line, while a black hat checks our equipment for the third time. I look over at Abram who is standing across from me on the opposite yellow line. I can tell she is trying not to smile. The only sign of nerves is the slight tremor I can see in her right hand. I imagine she is filled with the same nervous excitement as I am. Weber is cool and nonplused as usual. Over the last two weeks I have gotten to know him better, and it has changed my initial perception of him. I didn’t realize before; he is twenty-six, college educated, and has worked the last four years as an ER nurse. That explains why he is so, phlegmatic.

Our first jump goes off without a hitch or so we think. On our second jump, Lee is airlifted to an emergency room. We find out later that night, he broke a rib on the first jump and didn’t tell anyone. On the second jump the broken rib punctured his lung, so now Lee is out of the game. It is doubtful we will see him again. The four of us finish our next three jumps and are all selected for the SFAS course. It is clear upon arrival a lot of the other candidates are resentful of us. Most of them have been in the service for years waiting and proving themselves for the opportunity to come to the SFAS course. But, because of military shortages and bureaucratic decisions, we get to waltz in straight from school.

Like jump school SFAS is not just army. It is comprised of the best of the best from every military branch. Those who make it through will be a unit unto themselves. They will no longer be Army, Navy, Marines or Air Force, only Delta Force. At the beginning of the second week, I can tell something is off in the barracks. There is a strange vibe, I look over and see that West’s bed has been stripped and his name has been removed from his locker. I’m not sure what went down until I make my way downstairs and head to the chow line. It’s still dark outside, so when I step into the mess hall, I am blinded by the light for a second. Soon my eyes adjust and fall on Abram in the chow line. That’s when I see her left eye is so bruised it is almost swollen shut. I quickly grab my tray

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