May 27th 2057

  I finished attending to the latest batch of arrivals. The dead and dying were taken to triage and given what aid was available.

  I had fifteen minutes of free time, and stepped outside of the medical tent and into military encampment. There was a light rain pattering off of the tent roofs around me, and the world had a gray hue. Misery was in the air.

  I walked towards an an old connex that was ripped in half by a tank shell. It was our base's smoking lounge, at least if you were part of the medical staff. Walking inside, I saw the connex empty, short of Wojtek, a small orange cat who wandered in one day.

  “What's good Wojtek? Sharking cards at the cheetah club?”, I asked, pulling out a cigarette.

  “Meow!”, replied the cat.

  “Must be chum in the water tonight”, I said before I lit the cigarette, and put away my lighter.

  I took a drag, and noticed blood on the cigarette's butt as I pulled it away.

  “Division commander got shot today. Sniper.”, I said to Woijtek, blowing out the smoke.

  “Mrrrp”, Wojtek meowed while jumping onto the table, demanding affection.

  I reached my hand out to pet the cat, as a flash from outside lit up the inside of the connex.

  November 17th, 2074

  “This was the latest footage recovered from around the blast site. Nobody knows which side set the bomb, but this is footage of the nuclear strike on Warsaw that led to a swift end to the war. This event would lead to the uneasy peace that has lasted for the past 20 years.”, my professor droned. “Well, that's all for today. Don't forget your research papers on Tuesday.”, she added, noticing the clock striking the end of the hour.

  I grabbed my things off the auditorium desk and started walking toward the cafeteria for lunch. After a short walk I arrived, and quickly grabbed a couple of slices of pizza and an iced tea then sat down with my friends.

  “So whats the plans for tonight? The Harp has 10 dollar pitchers”, I suggested.

  “Sounds good, and maybe after, smoke a little? I got a new piece I've been wanting to try out”, my buddy, Ryne, offered.

  “Well, if that's the plan, let's make sure to not go too hard. Last time Valencia here went out, she ended up passing out on my dorm's floor, playing some game. All I heard that night was my TV shouting, 'WOW, THAT'S GOOD SODA!', every five minutes”, my buddy Ethan interjected.

  “Shut the fuck up, Ethan.”

  We sat around talking for the rest of our lunch. After I finished my tea, I slipped the glass into my bag, and as we left, I took my tray to the bussing station. I left the caf, and headed out into the crisp autumnal air. After a walk all too short, I got back to my room, and sat, beginning to finish writing the last few pages of my paper.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  But soon the day grew long, before fading into night, and we had gotten back together. We all gathered over at Ryne's to have a few pre bar shots, and we were out the door by 8 pm. We got a ride to the bar from Ryne's roommate, and we were soon chilling with drinks at a booth in an Irish pub.

  The place had a bar with stools running down the center of the room, in an oval shape, with bartenders in the middle. Running along the outer walls were booths, with the occasional patron. We got there early enough to snag one ourselves. In a back room were several pool tables and dart boards. The music was low enough to talk, but high enough to turn anybody around us into the buzz of the night.

  People came and went throughout the bar, and the night had grown long. We had drank a few pitchers of cheap beer each, and the drink had taken it's course. We wanted to get back before it got too late, and as such, we closed out our tabs and left to catch an L back to campus.

  The night had grown cold enough to see my breath. The city bloomed with lights. s everywhere, drowning the darkness of night with the bright glow of digital signs. The streets were awash with promises of better days and wilder nights, but only if you could pay for it.

  We turned into one of the back streets, taking a shortcut back to the train station, when the three of us heard some commotion behind us. They couldn't have been far honestly. Only a few blocks out, maybe. The scream of engines, sirens, and the occasional gun shot. We started half jogging, a little too drunk to understand the danger we were in. I turned my head as I heard tires screaming on the pavement, and saw a sports car drifting around the corner, two police cruisers in pursuit.

  The back street turned into a war zone. Shots from machine pistols rang out, trying to hit the pursuers. The police fired back in turn. Sparks from where metal hit concrete flew around me. I froze from the noise, too afraid to move.

  I heard something metallic clatter to the ground as the car being chased passed us by. At the time I had no idea what it was. In retrospect, I should have known it was a grenade or something, but as you know, hindsight is 20/20. It exploded as the two police cruisers were passing us. I'm not quite sure what happened next. I woke up in the hospital without my left arm below the elbow. My friends weren't so lucky.

  December 10th 2077

  “Christ, kid, that's what drove you to this?”, asked the man sitting across from me.

  “No, it was what came next that brought me here. Dropped out of college, took up drugs, nearly died. I've not got a lot going on and needed a new start”, I replied, looking at the ground.

  We were both in the lobby of Omni-Corp Pharmaceuticals' 'Corporate Security' recruiting office. The place where people with nothing left to lose go. Sell your soul to the corporation, and let them work on you like a guinea pig, add bits and bobs, and do what you're told. If, and I do mean IF you survive, you leave with an extended lifespan from cybernetic enhancements, a rock solid retirement plan, and a new lease at life.

  During the prior conversation with the gentleman named Max across from me, I learned he was a medic in the war I was learning about during college. Apparently he was there when the bomb was detonated in Warsaw. Since then, the PTSD hit him a little too hard, and he said he started to shut the world out by, and I quote, “rat-fucking the medical bag” for morphine. The army kicked him out for his nasty opiate addiction, and his wife took the dog.

  There were a couple others in the room as well, but I was stuck talking with Max, and before too long, my number was called, prompting me toward the secretary's desk. I said my farewells to Max, and spoke with the secretary who directed me towards the interviewer's office, and towards the next chapter of my life.