I’m in the Rat Army now. The commander is Rose. Not Bonzo. I’m done with following Bonzo’s stupid directions, and his desperate need for authority that seems to contribute to the making of his stupid actions. He punched me right after he told me that he persuaded the Rat Army to trade me for one of their guys. He was angry; he was furious with every little thing that I did when I was in his army and punching me like that was only part of his payback.
Whenever I saw his face, I couldn’t help but think of Peter’s face at the same time. Both faces have appeared too much in my dreams for it to not be easy to see the way they both narrow their eyes, knit their eyebrows together, and stick their chin up in a superior way whenever they told themselves that they despised me. When I wasn’t in Battle School there was always something Peter did, every single day, that made me want to rebel and cry at the same time. Every single day Peter fought against me, and I didn’t fight back, no matter the amount of anger I carried with me. I’m sure that if Bonzo could, if I wasn’t just someone a part of his army, he would do the same. The difference is that I would fight back. I would hurt him too. I don’t know if this is how Battle School changed me, or if I would’ve always been this way without my monitor; I do know that this is what Graff wanted.
When I spoke to Dink, he said that the kids in the Battle School are not normal children. Normal children don’t try to think of new methods that will help them defeat another army in the next zero-gravity battle. They don’t need to worry about promotions that will get them to the point of commanding an army, to being a soldier or commanding an entire fleet. They don’t put so much pressure on themselves to never make mistakes, or never lose a game. He said that the invasions were all fake, and that there is no war. The I.F is using people’s fear of the buggers to continue to have authority. The I.F is using the children as tool, but not for saving humanity against the buggers, but for their power and to continue their rule.
I didn’t believe him. The buggers and the wars were real. I’m here for them to change me and make me save the world. They’re trying to change me, so that I can save humanity. I thought that if I already changed, maybe they do have more power over me than I thought.
But I played the Giant’s Drink again and I killed a snake. The snake was weak, defenseless against the pressure of my foot atop a rug over its head. Then I looked at the mirror in front of me and saw Peter’s face. I saw the same angry eyes that stared at my neck once he realized that my monitor was gone; the same hands that choked me; the same person who taught me not to cry, but at the same time, made me cry the most. I saw a reflection, I saw a killer.
I didn’t think change would come so easily.
— I feel invisible whenever I’m with the people I used to call my friends. I feel respected, but I also feel tired of being so respected. I feel hopeful because Valentine sent me a letter, but I also feel betrayed because the letter must’ve been fake. I felt trapped because I was at the end of the world, and I could not escape.
There are so many things that I should be happy about, that I should be happy for. There are so many things that I should be grateful for, so many things that should motivate me to be grateful for those things. There are lots of gifts and privileges that others and I have been able to receive. There are lots of people who respect, pay attention, and look up to me. Dink is the new commander of the Rat Army. Petra is the new commander of her own army. Commanders admired my methods and how I trained and practiced with people in the evening.
I see them by the door, leaning against the walls, squinting, and observing every move I made and every move I made others do. Other soldiers like sitting down with me, but they all ask if they can as if all my time I spend feeling alone is something that I enjoy. The teachers always call on me first and cease to point out my own mistakes or things that I could improve on, but are so caught up with respecting me that they only point out what I’m good at. Valentine even sent me a letter, the first one I’ve been able to receive ever since I got here. I played the Giant’s Drink, and the snake was Valentine, she stayed there with me, and I was able to escape the end of the world in the game.
I should be so happy, but I’m not. My life is not a game, I don’t think I’ve escaped just yet.
I don’t want to go back to Battle School.
My time wasn’t just made up of practicing and repeatedly defeating other armies to the point where I knew my army was truly unbeatable. My time wasn’t just made up of commanding and teaching people every single strategy and method that would beat anyone based on their limitations and their weaknesses. My time wasn’t just made up of being admired and winning.
My time was made up of all the stress, pressure, and anger that I have built over the past few years, all the self-hatred and loneliness I feel as a result of being isolated; wondering what Valentine could be doing. My time was made up of hurting people, each strike I made creating a scar, the opening of a wound I don’t think a person could heal; it was made up of defeating people past their limitations, not just using methods that would hit their weak spot. My time was made up of all these experiences that not only taught me how to throw a better punch, how to shoot a gun, how to fight in zero gravity, but taught me how to be a better killer. I was taught to understand a person so much, that I knew how to kill them.
I see Bonzo and his morphed shadow on the white tiles in the bathroom, the steaming hot water, now pink, surrounding him and slowly gathering. I see his dark brown eyes with no emotion, his mouth closed, blood continuously spilling from his nose and slowly mixing the water. He was hunched over on the ground, he lay still. He was dead, just like Stilson and the Giant was. He joined the group of people I had destroyed, where if I continued to follow the I.F and their plans, it’s population would grow at an insane rate.
I see buggers and a whole world I had to imagine just to see how they travel, communicate, and live. I imagine a different colored sky, I imagine a different moon and brighter stars, I imagine sand roads, and a red stone throne where the bugger queen sits. I imagine all these things because all I know about them is how their ships move through space, the shape of their body, the shape of their face. All I know about them is that I’m supposed to fight them; to defeat them like I defeated Bonzo and Stilson, and so many other things in the Giant’s Drink.
I see these things that have or would destroy me even more the same moment I destroyed them. I see me fighting these things just because I don’t want to fight them anymore. But I also see Valentine and the way she would try to protect me whenever Peter hurt me. I hear her words, the way she would try and distract him, scare and taunt him. I see her as an older woman. Maybe she won’t be dead, maybe she will; but she’ll be disappointed that I ceased to try and defeat the enemy she cannot defeat, even when she did this for me.
I don’t want to go to back to Battle School. So I’m going to Command School.
There is a point in our lives where all we shall seek is peace. The stars will protrude no matter what color your night is. The surface of each planet will seem beautiful as you explore its eccentricities and the way the sun and moon rises and descends. You’ll find ways to reminisce in times just moments after war, where you’re at both your most and least vulnerable point, and even times before war where you thought you were close to feeling complete serenity and tranquility.
You’ll understand all the enemies you had before. Their eyes will be yours, you’ll have closure, and you’ll be able to love them without destroying them at the same time. You’ll forgive all the people who have hurt you, and try to persuade others to soon do the same so that they don’t have to live with whatever burden, whether it’s as light as a feather or as heavy as a boulder, their holding, forever. You’ll be united with those you love to be stronger than ever. You’ll forgive yourself for everything you have done. At that point, you’ll be happy.
After the Third Invasion, I found a place that the buggers built just for me. It was the world of the Giant’s Drink. The Giant’s carcass was now beneath the hill, it’s white skull partially covered by soil and a tree stemming from the hollow of its mouth. The playground was now old, as I heard the swings creak even when there was no one swinging. The paint of the monkey bars were chipped off, revealing the metal. The world was both desolate and colorful. My memories made it haunting.
It is strange to believe that in the same place where I developed much of my burden, I would also find closure.
The pupa of the queen bugger was behind the mirror I had destroyed, ready to produce an entirely new population of buggers in a new world. I learned that they had understood us after the Second Invasion. They didn’t mean to murder us when they were able to acknowledge that we were also an intelligent species. They sought a new colony, and without understanding us first, they attacked us. Without understanding them first, we attacked them back. Now they asked for peace and for forgiveness.
The queen bugger communicated with me through the ansible, asked me to carry her cocoon and take care of her; bring her to a place where she could produce and we would all learn to live in peace. I created a book that spoke from the hive-queen’s perspective to make us humans further understand their intentions and the power of two queens instead of one. Once we are able to understand them and acknowledge each other’s mistakes, the buggers will be able to live in peace, without fear.
So I carried the cocoon wherever I went, trying to find a new and safe world for them.
I looked for a long time.
