Rafael

São Paulo, January 2075

"Rafa, come take your breakfast, it's ready!" his mother called from inside.

The noise of the backyard door opening startled the woman who was in the kitchen. She looked like she was in her thirties, but her real age was almost fifty, thanks to genetic treatments. Rafael felt a pang of sadness, thinking that if his father were still here, he would still have the same appearance he remembered.

"I'm here, Mom."

"What were you doing? Oh my God, what happened?" She stood up almost knocking over her chair and putting her hand on her son's face.

"I went out to take one last stroll with Artemis and ended up running into the Villas' group, but they were too scared of this little monster," he replied, stroking the 'monster,' a pit bull almost the size of a pig sitting with a goofy face as if it didn't know anything. She had been with him as long as he could remember and would probably live much longer. Once again that day, he found himself thinking about how far genetic manipulation had come.

"But that doesn't explain your bruises!" Concern disappeared from her face, replaced by a serious expression.

"Well... I was already kinda mad, and their showing up was too good to pass up... they wanted to fight one-on-one, so I had Artemis sit, but when I knocked down the second guy, they all came at me, and she saved me."

"RAFAEL DE ANDRADA FILHO!"

"Calm down, Mom, I didn't let Artemis kill anyone!" He tried to deflect the issue he knew was coming, and the dog, betraying her owner, was the first to run away.

"And you know I'm not worried about that. Sit down and let's eat. You're almost 18 years old, you should have stopped this by now. Tomorrow you'll be at Fort Caxias, and you know what will happen if you behave like this there."

"Yes, if I'm lucky, I'll be discharged and sent home. I never wanted to be a soldier. Why can't I be a doctor or a space engineer? And if I had to be a soldier, why not in the Academy?"

"Because your father, his father, his father before him, and all the others before that enlisted as privates, and your father's last request in his letter was the same." She paused and looked her son in the eyes.

"If you really don't want to go, I can talk to some people and cancel your application, but don't you dare get discharged. No college or company will accept someone who was expelled."

Rafael really didn't want to go, but he also didn't want to waste his family's few favors on something like that.

"Never mind, it's just a year, right? Once it's over, I'll run off to some college. They can't refuse someone with my grades."

Upon hearing this, the shadow of a pretentious smile appeared on his mother's lips. She had heard this before, almost 30 years ago.

Rafael seemed not to have noticed and quickly devoured his breakfast. He had a lot to do today, and tomorrow he would go to the recruitment station for transportation, not knowing when he would come back here.

He had been living in the city of São Paulo since he could remember. The city and its metropolitan area extended for more than 4,000 km² and had a population of over 30 million. Most of them were in the immense SDPs, social development programs, a fancy name for simply isolating them in areas where they wouldn't affect the city's routine. The huge wave of European, African, and Asian refugees, suppressing any social welfare policy carried out by the SAP, constitutes a large part of the SDP.

The Andradas lived in the suburbs of the city, far from the center to avoid pollution and noise, and away from the SDP so that the security was still good even in the early hours. Their family had money, but their parents always disliked extravagant things, the only decorations being some family photos and that, in the living room, on the opposite side of the TV, a cabinet of medals. Five shelves, each with the photo of a uniformed man or woman and their respective medals beside them, a true collection, all of them with the 1st Class Combat Cross. But the most striking was the last and newest one, the Defender's Orb, the circle of the Pact's flag surrounded by golden laurels and a purple ribbon, guaranteed to all those who participated in the Last Line, as that final battle was called.

A pang of anguish pierced his chest, he would trade a million of these pieces of metal to have his father back. He knew it wasn't fair to think that way, but he also knew he didn't give a damn. He went up to his room to pack his things, tomorrow he wouldn't have time for anything, so it was better to make the most of today.

........

In the smart vehicle on the way to the recruitment station, Rafael looked out the window. As he distanced himself from the center of São Paulo, the houses became smaller and less spaced out until the houses gave way to a wasteland of over 1 km and then a large wall, as if it were a wall separating the wasteland from an ant colony. Only the ants are much more organized.

"Well, the buildings are organized, but the people..."

The recruitment center was part of the defensive perimeter of the SDP, more to prevent them from leaving in mass than to protect them from anything else. A queue to enter, waiting for the time, and a mass of protesters with signs and banners.

"You're going to kill innocents"

"Murderers"

"state dogs" among others.

He looked at that and felt only disgust, there was no refugee among their ranks, they were all perfectly fed and had the best health treatments that can be obtained. They have never had a real difficulty in life, (I can't say much about that either). Looking at the line that started at the gate and seeing how most of them were obviously malnourished and with murderous looks at the protesters, "shit... if this continues, it will go very wrong."

One of those waiting in line went to the group. (...aaand It started)

"Why the hell don't you stop bothering us, huh?"

"You should be ashamed to enlist, you fled a war in Europe and now you want to go back there, you saw what war causes and want to cause it in others."

"WHAT? You have no right to talk about it while living off your parents, people killing each other for food in the SDPs is not uncommon at all. I saw my little sister die in my arms because I was too late, and even then she wouldn't let go of the basic calorie package. And you want to take away the only way we have to get out of this world?"

The protesters fell silent, the guards at the gate as well. God, even Rafael's thoughts stopped. A deadly silence hung in the air until it was broken by the sound of the gate opening. And Rafael looked at the clock, 6:00 am sharp.

"Military always on point... man I hate this."