Replicated

Chapter I

My room is painted black. Posters are  taped messily on old,chipped walls. In the corner, there is a small bed, buried underneath weeks' worth of clothes and books.

The rest is workout equipment. There's not an inch left wasted: four years ago, I spent a fortune on weights, punching bags, dummies, and the most extravagant array of weapons I could find. Homework and textbooks are littered amidst the supplies. I study while training for efficiency. I not only need remarkable strength, but also academic excellence. All for one day.

The Trial.

Those two words have the power to make a little kid burst into tears and cry for their parents. In the country of Troika, a citizen is assessed in terms of academic and physical strength until they reach the age of fourteen. There, futures are determined split into two. The bottom half of each grade are to begin the dreary, everlasting life of a Worker. Workers have low-end jobs, usually related to serving the upper half. The upper half participates in the Troikan Trial.

Troika is separated into two cities. Ours, nicknamed the Original, is old and worn but still satisfactory. We have electricity and sometimes internet access, though technology is slow and often unresponsive. Most resources are given to the military, but a few are spared for us, and some for other city, which we nickname Replica. Replica is more recently built. It contains our clones.

When we are born, the government  clones us, and the clones are sent to live in Replica. The cities are separated by a strong electric gate and thousands of guards. Nobody who has tried to flee their sector has ever survived. The government eradicates communication between the cities completely, and reveals no information about either city.  Rumor has it that Replica is high-tech and flashy, though you can't exactly trust what you here in these areas where people are raving for excitement. In the trial, the upper students are introduced to their clone and fight to the death in order to determine the strongest. The winner is rewarded with an elite life serving in the military. They are given a mansion, a surplus of food and luxuries, and can have anything they wish for in the press of the button. The only downside to winning is risking your life in war, but we are taught that being in the army is considered an honor above life. Of course, the bottom half does not have to participate. Those who do not wish to risk death purposefully fail. However, failing means spending the rest of your life in a tiny shack for shelter, serving your classmates,  and receiving the bare minimum of food to survive. There's not much room for choice in this country. Die, thrive, or barely survive. That's the mini motto we have established, but we have to be careful not to overuse it because the government catching rebellion means execution.

Failing is undesirable but easier, though I'm the type that believes in hard work. Work hard, play hard. Besides, I couldn't fail even if I wanted to. Three years ago I made a promise to a girl. Aspen. We swore that both of us would win, join the military, and live in a life of luxury. To ensure this, we trained and studied every day together for at least two hours. The cost was split. I purchased equipment, and she bought books and hired tutors.

This years' Trial will be held tomorrow. Everyone in our district has turned fourteen. My birthday was a while ago, back in December. The upper half are to report to the Trail Center, an enormous skyscraper that towers over the city. The trial is not timed, and may last from half an hour to a day. Each trial is held in a giant room, which is programmed to generate an arena for every match. Sometimes the arena supplies weapons, sometimes it does not. Ranging from humid, jungle-related settings to a freezing  tundra, the arenas are designed to test intellectual and physical ability as well as human character. And, obviously, luck.

Waiting is the hardest part. Since everybody uses one room, we usually roam around the building or lounge in the hall until it's our turn. Each match is projected on small screens located practically everywhere in the building. Having a later time is generally more favorable, since by watching the matches you can pick up some last-minute tips and advice. However, the later you go the more pressure you feel, and stress can either make or break a person.

It's almost eleven right now and I'm lying in bed, unable to sleep. Which is bad, because I desperately need rest if I don't want to suffer from fatigue tomorrow. My mind is clouded with thoughts. What will my arena look like? How skilled will my clone be? I try to push these thoughts away, but they keep coming back.  Which is pointless. Thinking about tomorrow will most likely cause more harm than help.

I hear a knock at my window, and I immediately know it's Aspen. We planted trees by our bedrooms a few years ago to make communication easier. The tree by my room was a colorful Aspen, the tree by hers a Oak, a shortened version of my name, Oakley. Aspen's idea, of course.I can't help but grin as I throw off my covers and open the shutters.

She gracefully steps in, making her way to my bed. Her orange hair is out of it's ponytail and cascades around her shoulders, making her look softer, fuller. For a while, we don't speak, distracted in our own thoughts.

"You nervous?" I finally ask. Stupid question. Of course she's nervous. We're all nervous.

She feigns nonchalance, shrugging indifferently.

"Just a bit. It's not like our lives are on the line tomorrow, or anything."

I wrap my arms around her, and she leans against my chest. Being around Aspen boosts my mood, even when she's not trying to.

"The Trial's nothing to worry about. With all that training, we're practically invincible." Which is mostly true. Days spent pouring over textbooks, rigorous training, and jumping into frozen streams to get used to extreme temperatures are bound to give us an advantage.

Aspen smiled, resting her head against my chest.

"Invincible. I like that. Makes us sound like gods."

"Which we will be, at least for tomorrow."

Silence. I can tell she's trying to push away troubled thoughts. While I once thought Aspen to be unpredictable, I can read her easily now.

"Why don't we try getting some sleep? I feel a bit more relaxed now." I nod, feeling calmer myself . She steps out the window and heads back.

"See you tomorrow," I say as she makes her way down.

"Sleep well." Her tiny shadow waves from the bottom. I shut the window and climb back into bed. Sure enough, I'm suddenly tired, and immediately drift into slumber.