YOU ARE ENTERING A RESTRICTED AREA.

I’m not sure where I am. If this sign is any indication, I must be close to the test fields, but I have no idea how I got here. To be quite honest I’m not even sure who I am, but that one I think I’d like to keep to myself. The dog tags around my neck aren’t much help really. They change the name every time I’m sent to reconditioning. My identification serial at least is something constant. M24-62. Male, black skin, brown eyes, six foot two. These days that feels more like a name than anything else they carve on my tags. These days. What do those words mean in this place? My brain seems to get more and more scrambled after each reconditioning session. And now that Pixie is gone, I have no one to remind me.

Pixie. Oh sweet, sweet Pixie, this is all your fault. I was happy where I was before you came along. With you, I started questioning this operation and then got into all kinds of trouble. Pixie. Why do I remember her name, but not my own? F34-54. Female, Asian, brown eyes, five foot four. Why do I remember her face, but not my dead wife’s? Oh Pixie and her endless laugh and smiles. And then the secret tears she hid from everyone but me. How you trusted me and made me trust you, only to turn my world upside down. So carefree you didn’t even realise how you ruined me. I wonder if she really escaped as she said she would. She never believed in our cause anyway and missed home too much. Did you escape or did they finally catch you?

The sign is hung on a concrete wall that’s too high for even me to climb over. I start walking, running my hand along the wall. The afternoon sun burns my neck, but the concrete stays cold. I stop to rest my body against it. I close my eyes and think about my wife. She didn’t agree with this place either. Idealist to the end, bless her soul. I would like to say we’ll meet again, but I hold no illusions of being admitted to where she is. I do what I must for our country. She never understood and I loved her for it. As I loved Pixie. Christopher, I’d tell myself however, as long as you believe in what you do, you must do it.

Oh. Christopher. Yes, I was lying earlier when I said I can’t remember my name. I just prefer not to. It makes all this easier.

I may have lied about some other stuff as well. Pixie’s real identification serial was M34-54. Oh Pixie, who loved his name as he loved himself. No amount of brainwashing could steal it from him. Sweet Pixie who would sneak into my bunk bed and curl up next to me. He would rest his beautiful head on my broad chest and listen to my heartbeat. And I let him even though we both knew I could never love him the way he loved me. Idealist as my late wife. A dreamer. People like them aren’t meant for this world. We don’t deserve them.

I start walking again. The sun moves its position so that the wall is offering me more and more shadow. Still the heat is too much to bear with my heavy uniform on and so I take the jacket off. I walk on until I decide to peel off my trousers as well, leaving me with only the regulation undershirt and leggings. I carry the uniform in my arms for some time, but eventually I stop to first neatly fold the clothes and then gently set them down. I continue walking until I come upon a new sign.

WARNING. RADIOACTIVE CONTENT. KEEP OUT.

Curious.

I keep on walking to the next sign.

PRIVATE PROPERTY.

Whatever is on the other side of the wall, it appears to be many things. Strange. I can’t tell if the wall is enclosing us or whatever lies on the other side. It runs on straight as far as my eyes can see. Finally, however, I arrive to a large steel door.

NO TRESPASSING.

I sit down on the sand and lean my back against the cold steel. I wait. I wait. I wait. An hour passes, but then I hear faint knocking from the other side. I reply. Two shorts, one long, two shorts. They reply. One long, three shorts. One long. I stand up.

There’s one more thing I lied about Pixie. I know exactly where he is. And so will you. In. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

The first explosions start.

I’m sorry. I had to keep on talking. Had to keep you distracted, you see. I’m sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m sorry. I want to protect my country. I want to save the world. I want to go home. I turn to the security camera and give you one last salute while tears run down my face. I smile.