Branches snap and leaves rustle as I sprint recklessly across the forest floor.

Sweat pours from my forehead and forces itself past my brow and into the corner of my eyes, where it merges with the tears running down my check. The surface of my skin splits open, joining all my other cuts and bruises, and blood oozes out like sap as I hit a stray branch. Breathlessness and the burning in my legs slow me, but avoiding punishment drives me to persevere. In a matter of minutes the men chasing me will catch up and who knows what they will do to me. Panic begins to settle in as it becomes impossible to breathe. The coughing begins soon after and my lungs begin to feel as if they are actually being crushed. I know that I need to keep moving, but I am too light headed and gasping for air. Each breath I take sends a searing pain through my chest. One minute, I tell myself. One minute to rest. Thats when I feel a gun pushing against my back. BANG. An excruciating pain in my spine. BANG. I slump into the mud. BANG. OK IM DOWN! STOP FUCKING SHOOTING ME! I yell as loud as my parched throat allows me. Looks like Amadan didnt learn from the swear box says Klaus. His small entourage snickers as if there was something remotely humorous about his remark. You expect me not to swear when you shoot me with a thousand pellets? I say, slightly intimidated at the thought of the swear box. I expect you to apply what you learn in English. How about I apply what I learn in P.E? I jump out of the freezing mud and launch myself at Klaus, swinging my fist at the bridge of his nose. Klaus pulls his head back and effortlessly stops my feeble attack, then returns with a thunderous fist between my ribs. I let out an agonising scream as I fall back into the mud. Looks like you havent learnt anything in P.E either, Klaus snickers. I see Mr Latimer, my P.E teacher, running over. Alright you boys, break it up. You dont want the principal to come down, do you? No I dont. I struggle to get out of the mud and the shame which Klaus has caused. I dont care about my stupid lessons but it would be nice to know that I can at least defend myself from such simple attacks. My body shivers in the mud-soaked clothes. The cold air dries and plasters it against my skin and sends waves of cold down my body. The throbbing from Klaus blows and the realisation that Im still bleeding heavily from the numerous cuts makes getting up more difficult. Amadan, go stand in the corner, Mr Latimer says. But I didnt even touch him! I exclaim. You never will Klaus retorts. Deep down I know its true. Shut it Klaus. Amadan you swore. I will see to your punishment. For now, go stand in the corner.

Mr Latimer hands me a bandage for my cuts as I pass him and walk towards the corner. I hear him talk to the smart board. Report card: Physical Education dash Variations and Adaptability. Amadan The words appear on the screen and a series of beeps follow. The screen lights up with a big image of my face on it. Attempt number five. Amadan was unsuccessful in observing his environments which could be helpful for his concealment and/or escape and he showed no sign of his ability to evade a small group of individuals when he was forced into a chase. He has displayed a lack of instinct and care, clearly shown by the cuts and bruises on his body and the failed attempt at clearing a hurdle. He also failed to defend himself when he was in a possibly life threating situation. How the hell am I supposed to defend myself from ten people?! I exclaim to Mr Latimer. Pause. Amadan, unity will be fortified through your preparations. You were not prepared. Id like to see you defend yourself when youre having a panic attack, I say under my breath. Resume. I advise for him to retake this course next semester if he is not successful in completing this assessment in the next two attempts. He will be dropped from this course if he also fails his theory examinations. Finish The last of Mr Latimers statements are computed by the smart board, the lights go out and it returns to its mundane white. I start to cry. I dont know why, but its not the failure of the assessment which brings forth my tears, thats for sure. To hide my embarrassment, I cover my face with my cold, muddy, bandaged hands. An ant from the forest of a classroom meanders in my direction. Out of rage, I stomp on it, but it emerges, hind-half crushed, and carries on. Youre pathetic. You cant even kill an ant. --Am I boring you Amadan? Mr Ainslie asks as the trail of my yawn finishes. I emerge from my daydream, slightly surprised by the question. Sorry, I just blanked out a bit, I say. Sorry SIR! Have you learnt nothing?! Sorry sir, I repeat weakly. To be honest, I really havent learnt anything in English. I havent learned anything in all of my lessons. At least I like to think that I havent learnt anything. College 41 aims to teach boys what society wants to see. They are raising the perfect society. For those who are not so perfect, they are given a holiday, but they dont come back the same, they always seem more subdued. College 1, College 256, College 41; theyre all the same. A couple of numbers make no difference. They all have one ulterior motive. Propaganda. The other boys think that were learning basic self-defence in P.E and how to be a perfect citizen in English. But what kind of topics are Variations and Adaptability and Intelligence and Espionage? Thats not self-defence. They arent teaching us to be part of a perfect society. Theyre teaching us the art of war.

Klaus, when you visit the minister of any of the sectors, what must you do? asks Mr Ainslie. We must stand and recite the pledge of obedience, answers Klaus confidently. That is correct. Riley, if an individual is disrespectful to a figure of authority, what are the consequences? Are you serious? He doesnt need to review this. Were reminded of it everyday on the streets. The individual is arrested on the spot and is taken to stand trial under the sector of regulation. Very good. Amadan, Mr Ainslie says, trying to catch me off guard again, Which sector controls Everyone one of them. Everyone controls everything. And all you guys believe the crap. Theres a look of profound confusion on Mr Ainslies face. I point my finger at everyone as I ranted. Every individual who believes the despicable nonsense these sectors are teaching us, giving each one of them an expression of disgust and pure disbelief that they have surrendered to the teachings and have lost their sense of humanity and freedom. You people disgust me. The school, the classes, it disgusts me. I dont see how you can carry on with your mundane lives and be blind towards the bullshit teachers like Mr Ainslie teach, giving him an accusing finger. I look back at the class. You are all being controlled. Its about time you regain control. Control over your own lives, your own freedom and your own education. Attack them where they are unprepared, march swiftly to places where you are not expected and we can take them down. Though the enemy is stronger in numbers, we may prevent them from fighting. Opportunities multiply as they are seized. Seize this opportunity and you can become the director of the opponent's fate. As I look eagerly around the room, the enthusiastic smiles and the jubilant faces of rebellion are replaced with blank expressions of scepticism and horror. Its too late. Their brains have been washed and they really do believe that what they are being taught is true. No motivational speech or strokes of genius can bring them back. Theyre too far in. I am an idiot to think that I, of all people, can persuade them to come out of their perfect protective shell and surface into the real, imperfect world. I slump lifelessly back into my chair and begin to loathe myself. language and which sector controls behaviour? asks Mr Ainslie. Theres an uncomfortable silence. I asked you a question Amadan. Huh? I want you to answer my question. I ponder for a while, taking my time to fully surface from my reverie.

Fuck the question. The door suddenly opens and everyone in the class, including Mr Latimer, shoots out of their seats and starts reciting the pledge of obedience. I kick out of my seat like my life depends on it. Sweat forms all over my body and the pounding of my heart deafens my ears. I start reciting but I only mutter two words before the class turns deadly silent. I try to stop my arms and legs from trembling but I stop fighting it when I see Klaus shaking uncontrollably too. The room suddenly becomes unbearably hot.

Principal, what a pleasant surprise, Mr Latimer says shakily. The principal scans the classroom, locking a gaze with each student like they have all broken some kind of law. What is the principal here for? Is it because I swore? No, they would only lock me in the swear box. Thank god my outbursts were just a figment of my imagination. Maybe Riley or someone pissed the principal off. The principles eyes meet mine and a smile forms on his face. Wait. Is it a smile? It cant be. Amadan, come here son, the principal says. I stand up but I have to reach for the table as a gush of insecurity blows past my trembling body. Each step I take is painstaking. You dont want to trip and land on the principal. It feels like walking for a kilometre before reaching the principal who still has that unsettling smile on his face. Amadan, you feeling a littlerebellious? the principal asks. Did he say rebellious? No sir. Of course not. Sir I say uneasily. You have places to march swiftly where we are not expecting? Could it be? I stand there with my dried saliva gluing my mouth shut. I think you need a break. Come with me. He begins to walk back to the door but I remain perfectly still. Where am I going? I ask. The principal turns his head to stare into my eyes. This time he is not smiling. On a holiday.