AnYi 安亦

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Think of your greatest fear. If it’s an object, person, or place, make it sound loveable. If it’s some kind of experience, make it sound fun.

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1.

For Peter, it was actually good for his health, at least in the beginning.

The new lifestyle cured him of long-term procrastination and forced him to follow a strict routine. Everything fell nicely into a pattern. Training took up most of his time; someone else took care of his timetable, and all he needed to do is turn up and put all his effort into it. Leisure activities were limited, of course, but he got to make new friends – living together with such a large group of people under such circumstances had built an unbreakable bond between them. He got to be with them every day – it was a nice change for him, being able to see so many familiar faces all the time.

It was almost like finding a home. The sense of unity, a communal faith that everyone was sharing, gave him hope and dreams – that perhaps one day the history books would tell stories about them. And he was right. School children were to read about their eventual deaths in rose-tinted verses and romanticised illustrations. They were to enter cinemas and feel moved for the duration of two hours or so, and maybe shed a tear about it, but Peter wasn’t to know any of that. He lived in his own rose-tinted dream before they entered that trench; as if what happened afterwards, no one was there to record what he felt about it.

2.

For little Sarah, it was a real triumph that she finally had something to boast about to her playmates at kindergarten. All her brothers had brand-new uniforms and matching guns, and the photographs were the coolest thing ever. Among everyone in her class, her family were surely contributing the most to defend the honour of their nation. For the first time in her four-year-old life, Sarah found a reason to feel proud.

Mum cried for a whole day when they got on the train; but it wasn’t as if they were never coming back, was it?

3.

For Ms Pickett, it was a hard-earned victory. Years and years of strategic planning, years and years of careful manoeuvre and patient observation – few people could have lasted this long, not with all the secret interrogations and aborted assassinations, but she had made it. No other weapon worked so well as the pervasion of the mind – she had him wrapped around her little finger, but he still believed it was the other way round.

The day had come. She was standing somewhere in the shadows, away from the centre of the stage, as he entered the hall with a trained majestic air. Cameras flashed, like hundreds of desperate comets aiming to crash on land. He smiled and waved to the audience; she smirked in satisfaction behind the curtains. Nothing had ever quite pleased her this much – the chaos they were about to stir would be headlines for at least weeks, and everyone would think it was his doing.

‘Mr President, can you share your opinion on the statement made by the AWIFS Headquarters yesterday?’

He nodded; Pickett danced a little in excitement over the fluency with which he had absorbed the speech.

It was about to start. The silly people in the audience zone with their eyes goggling and togues hanging out – they will never know the joy of making it happen this way.

‘AWIFS has seriously threatened the security of our great nation. I wish to let them know that such threatening has serious consequences, the likes of which few throughout history have ever suffered before. We are no longer a country that will stand by and tolerate your vicious attacks on our principles. We will no longer stand by in peace.’