The Parables

Aadem - Precinct Two

Aadem - Precinct Two

"Speed. Does that mean running? Like, sprinting?" I look up from my timetable to my Tutors. 

"Yes, Aadem, it means sprinting."

I grin. "Get in." I glance around at the other Martyrs. "When do I start?"

"Let the training...begin."

The second the words leave Doyle's lips, I dash in the direction of the running track, determined to optimise my time there. Plus, I love sprinting. Speed is my one advantage, alongside strength, but it's mainly speed.

When I reach the track, I wait outside for my Tutors to eventually catch up before entering the chamber. It extends the entire width of the Concordiam, creating a vast area to sprint down. Inside, the ground is covered by a red tarmac track, split into two sections by a narrow, white boundary line. At the opposite end of the track, I make out three figures, one of which is a lot shorter than the other two. Glancing behind at my Tutors, I indicate the trio with a nod of my head.

"That my partner?"

Serissa nods. "Uh-huh. Mii Mandala, Precinct Twelve. Youngest competitor this year."

"And I'm the oldest," I murmur. "Coincidence I think not."

Serissa smiles wryly at me. "Just try not to be too intimidating. She's only twelve, bless her." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "And I doubt she'll see her family again."

I smile half-heartedly. "It must be hard, having to do this not even having reached the teenage years."

"Definitely. Imagine how you would if you were in her shoes."

I glance back to the girl at the other end and feel a pang of sympathy for her. Someone her age shouldn't be forced to compete in such ruthless, cutthroat conditions. Being employed in the mines at eighteen, I know just too well what it's like to cope in a harsh environment, but facing the prospect of dying at the naive age of twelve is too horrific, especially in a competition like this. A competition, where you watch everyone around you wither away before perishing yourself.

"Do you want to get started then?" Verdin pulls a stopwatch from his trouser pocket and fiddles around with the buttons on it. "If I can get this ruddy thing to work..." He traipses off in the direction of the other end of the track, his eyes glued to the stopwatch and not the path ahead.

Glancing to Serissa, she rolls her eyes. "Maybe I should have gone up there instead."

"Too late now," I joke.

"Really, men these days." She shakes her head in disbelief. "Back when I was a little girl, my father could work anything and fix everything. He was the handyman of the town. He taught me everything, so much so, they even gave me a nickname at school: Little Miss Fix-A-Lot."

I chuckle. "Sounds like my Pap. He's been working here for a couple of months, building and fixing all sorts. He was meant to come back the day we got on the train..." I trail off and turn my attention to the floor. Serissa lays a hand on my shoulder.

"I promise you we'll get you home to see him. Imagine his face when he's told that his little boy has gone off to fight for his Precinct. He'll be so proud, so very, very proud."

Looking back up, I smile at Serissa. "I hope."

All of a sudden, a sharp whistle captures our attention. Glancing towards the other end of the track, I catch sight of Verdin with his hand in the air. I take it as my signal. Clearing my throat, I take stance and prepare to sprint. My eyes don't leave Verdin. I watch his hand carefully. The second it slices down through the air and drops to his side, I'm off.