The World Which Is

Chapter 01

"Attack," Grandmother instructs, and I raise the wooden sword to deflect Josie's attack, slash as she jumps back, press and lift my leg so her sweeping kick passes under it. Then I backup, gasping from the pommel hit in my stomach. She grins, and her face lights up.

Never noticed until now how pretty she is. I wonder if that's because I'm about to get a class soon. About to be an adult.

"Stop gawking, Dennis," Grandmother instructs. "Why aren't you taking advantage of his distracted state, Josie? Remember everyone, in a real fight, you can't afford to be distracted, or not take advantage of your opponent's distractions."

"Yes, Grandmother," the twenty or so of us on the training field reply in unison. Me, Josie and three others are the oldest. My sixteenth birthday is in a few days, Josie a week later, and the others spread over the next two months.

She isn't our grandmother, she's actually my great-grandmother. Grandpa Louis's mom.

"I don't get why we have to do this anymore," Josie grumbles as she thrusts and I deflect. "It's not like we can go up in levels."

I reply with a thrust of my own, which she barely parries.

"An attitude like that is how you end up needing to be rescued, Josie," Grandmother says without slowing her pacing in front of the field. "You grow too dependent on the system to maintain your skills, and even if the number's the same, you are too slow to win against your opponent."

"And in a few days," I say, "we're going to gain level as quickly as we can train." I punctuate my comment with a series of jabs. "So I want to be as close to going up as I can be for when I pick my class."

"You made up your mind yet?" She parries and counters, then goes for an overhead swing I have to block by bracing the flat of my sword against my forearm. The force still drops me to a knee.

"Still going over my options." Which is code for 'still trying to get my dad to let me pick my class.'

"If you don't—"

The alarm klaxon sounds and we all stop. It only ever sounds for two reasons. Preparedness, and—

Monster Wave Incoming

"This is not a Drill," the deep voice coming from around us says. Grandmother looks at the speakers on top of the pole. "I repeat, this is not a drill. Monster wave incoming. All civilians, make your way to the bunkers. Combatants, take your positions, first responders to the checkpoints. I repeat, this is not a drill." The klaxon sounds again three times and goes silent.

The klaxon and voice messages are there for the older folks. The rest of us know to leave the system alerts up. You don't want to miss when a wave is incoming, especially if you're outside Base's influence. And it's also good to know when you're crossing onto another territory, you know, if your dad will ever let you travel at all.

"They're ahead of schedule," Grandmother muses, shifting her gaze to the closest gate in Base's wall. People from the town outside are already moving toward it. "Alright," she says in her drill sergeant voice, facing us. "You heard Base. Find your families and head to your bunker."

"I can help," I say.

"Me too," Josie adds.

Which earns us looks. Admiration from the youngest trainees and disbelief from those our age. Me and Josie are the only ones here because we want to be. The other three are here because it's one of the town rules that everyone needs to have basic fighting training as well as first aid. That class is tomorrow.

"I appreciate it," Grandmother said, and her voice softens ever so slightly. "But you are still children. Your parents wouldn't forgive me if I allowed you to get hurt. So move along; you have your orders."