The Garrison

Odyssey

September XX62

A red ocean.

Micah stares out the window, fixating on the scarlet waves just beneath the horizon. He knows the ocean is not actually red. He knows the ocean is not actually blue either. The ocean is whatever colors you can find left over after water eats up all the light it can get its hands on.

Micah feels a lot like the ocean.

His mother is in the station with him, legs crossed in her seat as she trails her fingers across the spine of a book. She brought the novel with her on a reflex, wanting a distraction for the car ride over. They live about an hour from the nearest city and the suburban skyline can only grab so much of her attention. Somehow, she was only able to get to the third page of the prologue. Their driver is sitting across the aisle, tall and lithe, the crisp lines of his uniform refuse to wrinkle despite him periodically shifting in his seat. He scratches his stubble briefly and takes a deep breath before reiterating his earlier point from the car. "I can assure you Mrs. Ramirez, this will be good for Micah." He takes a beat and continues. "The Garrison at Shiloh is renowned for its top-notch soldiers and servants for the crown. Micah will spend the next five years learning to control his condition and if he graduates the opportunities will be endless." The words themselves are without a doubt rehearsed, penned by a PR specialist without a second thought to their construction. His tone on the other hand is genuine. His eyes belie nothing but sincerity and there is enthusiasm to his body movements that an actor could not conjure.

"Oh no, I believe you Lieutenant. It isn't the education that concerns me. It's the new environment." She pauses before going on, "Micah has always been...how do you put it? Slow to adjust. He doesn't make new friends very easily for instance. And I remember the first time we moved, he was six and he couldn't stop crying."

Micah wants to interrupt her and protest but he knows not to. His mother made it ostensibly clear that interrupting people is rude. That he should take turns and wait for the other person to conclude their thought, otherwise they will not find him very amicable.

"He's a lot like myself actually, getting lost in his own world. Sometimes I have to literally rip a book away from him just to get him to go outside" She cloys her hands together and lets out a brief sigh. "It just pains me to think of him no longer here."

"Mrs. Ramirez, I understand where you're coming from, truly, but I need to remind you that you don't have any other options. It's mandated that a child exhibiting symptoms like his be taken in." There is a certain pain in his gaze as he says it, as if the words were drilled into his tongue. "You will be able to write to him and send recorded messages periodically as he adjusts over the next two years. After that correspondence will be limited until graduation." He steadies himself before continuing, "Of course there are severe cases where the student is unable to graduate, in which case realignment therapy is needed. But the realigned are cared for the same as any graduate and their service is invaluable to our nation's king and economy." He stops and backtracks, "I can already tell though that your son will do just fine."

"Thank you, Lieutenant...Mizrahi, was it? Your words are comforting. I know I don't have any choice in this, so it's good to know he'll be taken care of." She stops and lowers her voice to a near whisper. "I'm trying my best not to dwell on what ifs. The compulsory service, the realignment therapy, I mean I understand the good it does, please don't mistake me, it's just...when it's your child out there..."

"No need to explain any further," the tall man whispers back, "And yes, it's Mizrahi, but you can call me David. If it helps at all, I'm in my third year of service to the crown and I'm not too much worse for the wear. I won't lie to you, it's a laborious process that not everyone can endure, but the way I see it, the benefits far outweigh the risks." He looks at Micah at smiles, sincerity pouring forth, "I see potential in your son. He'll survive this. You both will."