6— Status quo

Artyom trudged through the halls of the orphanage, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness of the large building. As he made his way to the cafeteria, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over him.

He had only been reborn into this world a minutes ago, and he was still adjusting to his new life as a child in the Atomic Heart world.

His eyes scanning the sea of children, who were not too long ago fast asleep, seated at long wooden tables. He could hear the murmur of their voices, the clatter of spoons against bowls.

The orphanage was a daunting place, with its gray walls and no-nonsense caretakers. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to it.

As he made his way towards an empty seat, he noticed the caretaker from earlier, Alexei waving him over from a table in the corner. Artyom made his way over.

He noticed whilst walking over that there was a tray with a bowl of porridge already prepared and it had to be for him since it was placed opposite of Alexei.

"Artyom, glad you could make it," Alexei said, motioning for him to take a seat across from him. "I hope you slept well."

Artyom nodded, Artyom sat down and looked at the bowl of gray porridge in front of him, feeling a pang of disappointment, spooning a mouthful of porridge into his mouth.

The taste was bland, but at least it was warm. He had always been a foodie in his past life, and the bland, tasteless food in the orphanage was something he was going to have to get used to.

Alexei noticed Artyom's gaze on the porridge and chuckled. "I know the food isn't great, but it's what we have to work with. It's all part of the Soviet way of life, you know? Everything is about discipline and sacrifice for the greater good, you know?"

"I wanted to talk to you about the daily regimen here at the orphanage." Alexei said.

A child voice chimed. "But why do we have to sacrifice so much? Why can't we have better food, more freedom?" The question came from a boy a few years older than Artyom.

Alexei furrowed his brow. "Shut your trap, Konstantin or do I have to have your ass beaten again for conduct unbecoming of a soviet citizen?!"

The boy in question immediately looked down at his porridge in fear.

Alexei satisfied with the outcome returned his attention to Artyom his face still plastered with a serious expression.

"Artyom, you must understand that the Soviet way of life is not about our individual desires, but about the collective good. We all have to do our part for the state, and that means sacrificing certain luxuries for the sake of our society."

Artyom couldn't help but feel somewhat frustrated. He was used to living in a world where he could pursue his own desires and dreams, prior to his accident of course. Here, everything was dictated by the state, and individualism was frowned upon.

Artyom nodded, taking a spoonful of porridge.

"You'll wake up at 6:00 AM every day for breakfast, followed by morning exercises and hygiene. Classes start at 8:00 AM sharp, and you'll have a full day of various studies until dinner at 6:00 PM. After dinner, you'll have some free time for political education before bedtime at 10:00 PM. Don't let me or the Matron catch you awake past that time or else you will regret it dearly."

Artyom's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But what about breaks? Or time to just relax?"

Alexei shook his head. "There's no time for that, Artyom. You need to focus on your studies and become a productive member of society. We're preparing you for your future roles in service to the state."

Artyom couldn't help but feel a little miffed. This wasn't the life he wanted, but he knew he had no choice. He took another spoonful of porridge, trying to push down his disappointment.

Alexei noticed his demeanor and leaned forward. "I know it seems strict, but it's for your own good. Trust me, Artyom, the state knows what's best for you."

Artyom nodded, not wanting to upset Alexei. But deep down, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. Was this really the life he was meant to live? Would he ever be able to break free from the strict confines of the state?

"Listen, Artyom. The only thing the state hates more than capitalists are citizens who are useless to society. We all work together for everyone's benefit and can't afford be dragged down by dead weight. Study hard Artyom and become a scientist or an engineer the education is free after all."

Alexei leaned forwards and lowered to a whisper before continuing. "Though if you end up being dumb as rocks you can always work as a miner digging up rocks in Siberia or some other shit hole. A few years worth of morning exercises should prepare you for that somewhat."

Artyom swallowed his porridge at that and gathered his determination to not be sent off to a mine. "If I'm gonna serve the motherland let it be behind a desk." He promised himself.

Alexei the caretaker stood up and left Artyom to eat as he went off to do his work.

Artyom looked around and noticed the other orphans had gone quiet after Alexei left. He guessed they were scared of getting in trouble for talking too much.

Feeling a sense of curiosity, he turned to the boy sitting next to him, a lanky kid with messy hair and a patch over one eye.

"Hey, what's your name?" Artyom asked.

The boy looked at him warily, but then shrugged. "I'm Sergei. You're new here, aren't you?"

Artyom nodded. "Yeah, I just got here. What's it like? I mean, really."

Sergei snorted. "What do you think? We're stuck in this dump, with nothing to do but eat porridge and get smacked around by the caretakers. They call it 'discipline,' but it's just cruelty if you ask me."

Artyom's eyebrows rose. "Really? They hit you guys?"

Sergei nodded. "Oh yeah. You'll see. The slightest infraction and you'll get a heavy wooden ruler across the knuckles, or worse. And don't even think about trying to sneak out of here at night, they'll catch you for sure. You'll be silently crying yourself to sleep if that happens" Sergei seemed to be speaking from experience.

Artyom frowned. "That's... pretty rough." He couldn't help but notice the bruises peeking out from under Sergei's clothes here and there.

Sergei shrugged. "It's the way things are here. The state takes care of us, but in return, they want us to toe the line. Just be careful, okay? Don't want to end up in the infirmary with a broken arm or something."

Artyom nodded slowly, taking in the information. It sounded like he was in for a rough time, but he was determined to make the best of it.

"At least the other caretakers are just plain evil but Alexei is the worst one he smiles warmly and even befriends you but beats you savagely afterwards. You can tell he enjoys it... he's a real bitch..." Sergei said that last part softly but the rest of the kids still looked around in fear just in case the bitch in question heard that.

"This place is a real piece of work huh?" Artyom said while sighing.

"Told ya." Ivan interjected, the boy Artyom met earlier. He had walked over at some point with his tray to sit at the same table. "Never trust a full grown man who wanders around in a room full of kids whilst they are asleep. That's my motto."

Artyom knew Ivan was talking about Alexei but couldn't help but think he was just the same as Alexei technically.

Artyom sat quietly for a moment, taking in what the other kids had just told him. It was worse than he had expected. The strict regimen, the physical punishment, it was all so foreign to him. In his previous life, he had taken his freedom for granted. Now, as a child in a totalitarian state, he realized just how little freedom he had but he it was still more than enough for him who was confined to a bed for years.

One of the orphans, a boy with short blond hair, leaned over to Artyom. "Don't worry, they're not always like this. Sometimes, only sometimes, we do still get to go outside and play."

Artyom looked up at the boy, grateful for the small bit of kindness. "Thanks," he said quietly.

The boy nodded, then looked around the room. "So, how did you end up here?" he asked.

Artyom hesitated, unsure of what to say. He couldn't exactly tell them that he had been reborn into this world after dying in his previous life. He decided to keep it vague and answer like an NPC would. "My parents died," he said simply.

The room fell silent, and for a moment, Artyom thought he had said the wrong thing. But then the blond-haired boy spoke up again. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Artyom shrugged. "It's fine," he said, trying to sound casual. "I don't really remember them anyway."

The other kids nodded sympathetically, then fell back into their own conversations. Artyom listened for a while, picking up bits and pieces of information about life in the orphanage. He now knew that the food was shit, the beds were shit, and the caretakers were always watching maybe even when you took a shit.

But despite all of that, the orphans still found some clever ways to have fun.

As he finished his porridge, Artyom felt a mix of emotions - sadness for the other kids' hardships, anger at the unfairness of their situation they were in the same boat after all, and determination to make things better for himself.

He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to at least give it a try. He was filled with confidence thanks to the firm knowledge that he wasn't simply reborn but also thrice blessed.

"Oh, By the way, what year is it?" Artyom asked the other kids on his table.

They looked at him with puzzled expressions making Artyom feel like an idiot.

His room mate Ivan spoke up after heavily sighing. "Are you serious? You really don't know?"

"Just tell me."

He answered. "It's 1938."