Falsa Mali

It was a rather drab and dark evening by the time Bavar neared the towering conscription building. The soot from what he thought was the newly unslumbered war factories had flurried madly onto the roads, hindering his sight through the windshields. Bavar had hazarded a guess that the parking areas would be full during his lengthy drive, he was correct; older and newer models, mostly newer, were compacted tightly into the parking area. But that would not make a difference as his vehicle began to cough and stutter due to it inhaling the soot-something that happened frequently without the soot. Bavar turned off the rusted machine, hoping to prevent any more damage to it, and made the rather rash decision to walk the remaining length to the conscription building.

Bavar regretted the decision immediately as the soot clouded around him, obscuring his sight and filling his lungs. He stumbled drunkenly, coughing and wheezing, into the glass doors of the conscription building. “Open, please” he pleaded to the door, it did not open as it was a pull door and he was pushing against it. The door abruptly flew open, tossing Bavar onto the cracked cement in front of it. A rough-looking man with gorilla-like countenance dragged him inside, a flurry of soot followed.

“Gramercy, sir,” said Bavar “But I will be able to handle myself from here.” the rough-looking man had placed him in a chair and given him a glass of unknown, but tasty, liquid, he sat in one opposite to him. They were in the processing unit of the conscription building, Bavar knew because there was a large paper sign that said, “Processing Unit”. It was a rather average room in appearance, set with ¾ of the room dedicated to holding chairs, of which none were occupied except for the two that the rough-looking man and Bavar were using, and the other ¼ was a glass door with a sign that read “Testing”, which was directly opposite from the entrance into the building. Bavar lifted himself off the seat and attempted to reach into his coat pocket for something, his legs wobbled, and then failed. He crumpled to the ground pathetically, wearing a horrified face as he quickly lost consciousness, he swore he heard the number “6”

In his state of deprived consciousness, Bavar dreamt of brilliant things. His dreams followed the common theme of him becoming a military hero of the state by defeating the oppressors with sheer bravery and wit. Bavar awakened grasping his chest, feeling for nonexistent medals and awards. He was in what appeared to be the general medical ward of the conscription building, which was strange since he was certain it didn’t have one, but how would he know? “Welcome to the general medical ward, Bavar,” a plainly dressed and plainly faced nurse said, “Please stay in your cot until your condition is stabilized.”

“So, where am I?”

“You are in the general medical ward and have been for the last 5 hours.”

“When did they build a general medical ward here?”

“Only about 7 hours ago.”

“Is it still possible for me to begin testing in order to join the fight against the oppressors?”

“Yes, you are, infact, already being tested.”

“How do you know my name?”

“You were whispering ‘Bavar the Great, Hero of the People’ in your sleep, so we assumed it was your name as you had no identification on your body.”

Bavar felt his pockets and, true to her word, he carried no identification. “It seems that I left it in my car, but what am I supposed to do now?” asked Bavar to the nurse. “I was directed to keep you here and to observe you until your identity is stipulated,” said the nurse “But I am curious as to what you were dreaming about.”

“Would you like me to tell you?”

“Correct, we have quite a bit of time, go ahead.”

“I had passed the tests with full marks, a brilliant soldier I was, they said. I was to be deployed immediately to the front to defeat the oppressors. I was carted in a boxcar with other soldiers such as myself, the brave and glorious types that had passed the tests with flying colours. Our boxcar was located in the back of the train,a rickety thing of sheet metal and wood, the front was a heavily armoured fortress of anti-aeroplane guns and machine guns; both boxcars appeared identical and both carried rather deadly contents. The anti-aeroplane guns erupted abruptly at random times, sometimes they would score a hit and we would hear the downed enemy plane crashing into the forests that flanked us, we all cheered then.

The front was a great many miles away, but it gave us time to socialize with our similars. I met this fellow which I nicknamed Dux, he called me Mortuus; his nickname never stuck. We bonded over similar interests as we were both farmers. Dux also happened to be an excellent guitar player, stringing together soft melodies as we lounged around the portable heaters during the colder nights. I met many other soldiers like him, but none as memorable.

As the front neared, the boxcar steadily silenced. The final day until we reached the front was characterized by sheer silence, only the voices in our heads spoke. We disembarked near what they say had been the great city of Izmennik, we found only a smoldering wreck that we could never have imagined having been a city at all. They gave us the best equipment the state could provide, we were exhilarated. Our task was to patrol a section of the city for hostile elements, whatever that meant, that remained after the state firebombing effort.

We divided our company into smaller sections and assigned areas to each section and split. The remnants of Izmennik hint at a once culturally beautiful city, the occasional statue, the odd relic. In the middle of the husk, we found an almost untouched marble fountain sitting quaintly amount blackened and destroyed rubble. One of the soldiers, a rather carefree lad by the name of Yao, stepped into the fountain. His head snapped upwards and he agaped his mouth and began screaming.

We tried to drag him out, yet he stayed cemented there; we even tried using a bit of rope, which failed. We were planning on leaving to get more support when he abruptly stopped screaming, unholstered his sidearm, and executed himself. We were all shook, but we continued our patrol around the city. Besides Yao killing himself, there was nothing else notable that happened inside the city. It was utterly deserted, no “hostile elements” nor any civilians either.

When we reached the train, as we instructed to do after completing our patrol, we instantly noticed that we were the only section that had returned. Rather confused, we radioed for the other sections, to no avail, and then to the state. The state urged us to leave the area immediately via the trains, to leave the other sections in the depths of the husk. We knew better to question the state, as much as we would like to. Dux was in one of the patrols that vanished.

        All 7 of us were given the highest honours from the state, we were all cherished heroes; our names and faces plastered on posters and textbooks. That’s basically it.”

        “Thank you, Bavar,” said the nurse, putting down the notebook she had been writing in as he had spoken “I think your identity is almost confirmed now”.

“I see, may I have a glass of water?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you.”

On cue, the rough-looking man from earlier entered the room with a wide smile.

“Come with us Bavar, it’s time for you to take your test.”

Bavar lit up, his time to shine had come! The rough-looking man gently guided him through the twisting hallways. “I never asked, what is your name?” asked Bavar to the rough-looking man. “Some call me Mr. Impie, some call me by my real name, Ernst Ansovich Mach, but it really doesn’t matter.” Mr. Impie gently replied. Finally, they entered the processing room through a door Bavar didn’t know existed, but what did he know? “There it is,” said Mr. Impie “Go on in!” Bavar obeyed happily, entering the room and letting the door close behind him.

He turned around to give Mr. Impie a thumb-up but saw that Mr. Impie had opened the entrance and was in the process of dragging a soot-covered body into the room. Bavar shrugged and smiled, who was he to judge what Mr. Impie was doing, what did he know? In front of him was another door, this time it was made of a solid metal. Bavar knocked on the door, it flew open.

He walked in confidently, two lads flanked the entrance of the door, Bavar turned to one of them. “I’m going to ace this test an-” Bavar stopped speaking, in front of him was a person that had the uncanny appearance of his dream-friend, Dux. “Dux?” Bavar asked, somewhat spooked. “Go ace that test, Mortuus.” Dux replied, winking.

Bavar softened and relaxed, what did he know? He shouldn’t question such things. The room was a visually sparse, but cozy, nonetheless. It had a standard chair, with a standard drain under it, and in front of the chair was a standard wooden table with a piece of paper on top of it.

Bavar took a seat, pulling the chair up to the table. He was beyond excited now, his hands were shaking uncontrollably, his vision was going blurry, he couldn’t feel his fingertips. He attempted to flip the paper 7 times before he got it correctly, when he saw the single question that consisted of one word and two choices on the paper he broke out into an unnaturally forced grin. “EXIST? YES\NO” read the paper, which now had faint blood drops due to Bavar clenching his teeth. Bavar tried to pick up the pencil next to the paper, only to find that he could no longer feel nor use his fingers. His whole body began violently convulsing, his failed attempts to pick up the pencil frustrated him and caused him to try to curse, but his jaw slacked when he attempted to speak.

His dream-friend Dux approached him from behind and gave him a soft pat on the shoulder, Bavar couldn’t turn around to face him though as his neck had turned to rubber. Bavar never heard the unholstering of his dream-friend’s gun, nor the subsequent gunshot that killed Bavar, what he did hear was said by the intercom system above: “5”.

Dux and the other guard, who was Yao, carried the corpse of Bavar onto a metal sheet which slid out from the wall, tossing his body onto it and pushing the sheet back into the wall. The incinerator got to work.