First Chapter of Novel

Preface

This world is not dissimilar to our reality. There are wars and famines, discrimination and unjust labor, religions and classism. But the thread through which all these social fabrics connect is the difference. After all, this world is based on pellets. Pellets, the formulated ballistics made from one’s blood and maintained with one’s energy, fired from one’s finger as one would a gun. They can be spun around like boomerangs, expanded or condensed, hardened or softened. Their possibilities are so vast that even those who use them to delineate their society don’t comprehend them fully. The usage of fingers creates an explicit verticality – the more digits capable, the greater an individual you are. Your rank is a part of your identity, part of your legal name (ie, John Doe 4-man, where 4 refers to being able to use pellets on four fingers), and shown for all to see by the respective badge pinned to your breast – whether that is to your social advantage or not. Everything is divided by these rankings, employment, romantic partners, even de facto legal protections. Reaching the highest rank possible is of the gravest import. But reaching too high, who knows the consequence of that… Part I

Chapter I The room held an oppressive quaintness akin to a barracks. Two cots were lodged into opposing corners with scratched drawers at their feet. A sole window at the center let in the afternoon sun. Laurus Glacester couldn't be happier to see the sight. It was the first day of September, the leaves already reddening into a vermilion color, and the bells of academia were ringing, inviting all the students back into its confines. Laurus wasn't different from any other child forced to return to school, faced with that anxious feeling, the first impressions, the awkward introductions, all of which evolved into mundane monotony for the subsequent nine months. Normally, he’d be filled with dread. But this year, it was different. Two months prior, in humid July, Laurus reached the ripe age of thirteen. In conjunction with his past accomplishments, it finally qualified him to be accepted by the National Military Academy of Darringham, colloquially referred to as Dargaku. The heart of its campus lay five miles north of The Park – the neighborhood within Darringham Laurus originated from – but Dargaku's domain was further spanning than anyone cared to know. It was the singular educational institute recognized by the government of Matchel, and therefore, the only one to receive public funding. Laurus set his luggage atop the right cot – his cot – smoothing out the blue woolen blanket. The polished 4-man pin gleamed proudly on his chest. The rooms were sorted by ranking, like everything else in Matchellian society. The top of the freshmen class each year were assigned to this specific room, manicuring it with pretentious names like: “The Future of our Land”, “The Next Ministers”, “The Dwelling of Prodigy”, “The Precocious Palace”, and so forth. Laurus smiled to himself. Let the others come up with the titles they'll call us. His roommate would become his closest friend, whatever 3-man waltzed through the door. They didn't display room assignments beforehand, but there were obvious candidates: Antonio Dwindle, Dwayne Flanders, Mattias Venington, or Joseph Bargin. But it didn't matter. Whatever anklebiter lucky enough to stay with him he'd accept with open arms and drag along the path of greatness. He was the son of two exemplars after all. Laurus paced the room for a few minutes, studying the identical halves, tracing his forefinger over the scratches on the opposing dresser. Delicate half-circles that must've been made by pellets, dragged along to form a helix. He wondered what upperclassmen had done the deed – he'd have to meet them. He'd be near their rank soon enough. The boy grew bored with the drawers, letting out a sigh and cracking open his trunk. Inside lay the neat stacks of clothing folded by their family's butler, Wilson. The drawers noisily slid open as he moved the articles in between containers. How late was his roommate? It wasn't any more than a 30 minute carriage ride from Darringham to Dargaku, maybe 45 minutes from the south side, but, Laurus chuckled to himself, there wouldn't be anyone coming from there. The door rattled as Laurus was placing his hosiery into the top drawer. An instructor held the door open, his face immediately darkening at the sight of Laurus. “You! What the hell are you doing?!” “What?” Laurus replied. “What do you mean?” “Why are you unpacking?!” “Well, I...” The boy's voice trailed off as his roommate walked in. His skin was tanned, his hair messy, and his eyes large and dark, like a pair of black beetles gazing at him. But Laurus didn't pay attention to the very odd appearance. His envious eyes landed directly on the five fingers held aloft on the brass pin on his roommate's chest. “You idiot!” The instructor shouted, cuffing him. “You don't do anything before a higher rank?! You understand?!” “It's alright,” The roommate said. “He didn't know yet.” “No,” The instructor shook his head. “There are no excuses. He should have known. Take all of this out! You already picked a bed, you weakling?! You don't get to choose!” Laurus complied, the side of his head stinging. His eyes still glanced again and again at the pin. It wasn't possible. A 5-man at 13 was unheard of. And he had never seen this person before. No, no, it was an impossibility. He was the top of his generation, not this interloper. “Don't mess up again,” The instructor hissed into his ear, before turning and slamming the door behind him. Silence filled the room, the awkwardness of a typical introduction had already mutated into bruised feelings. “It was an honest mistake,” His roommate said. “I'm Jatel, by the way.” The boy held out his hand towards Laurus. “Nice to meet you.” Laurus gazed at the hand with disgust, reluctantly shaking it. “I'm Laurus Glacester.” “Do you want the right side?” “It's up to you.” “Well,” Jatel smiled. “You were here first, after all.” Pity. Laurus bit his lip as he unpacked his trunk for the second time. This 5-man was pitying him. The drawer filled with rapid disorder, the empty trunk shoved roughly into the corner. “Ah, Laurus, would you mind--” The sentence was cut off by Laurus slamming the door before he stormed down the dormitory hallway. The student population of Dargaku was about twenty-five hundred split across five different years. The split was around 55-45 for boys to girls. The dormitories were spread throughout the campus, divided by gender and constructed to have around a hundred occupants. The dorm Laurus stalked out from was officially called Siltus' Hall while students referred to it as Yellow Leaves from the avenue of plane trees leading to its entrance. Laurus' boots crushed the fallen leaves as he marched to who knows where. The side of his face still stung. His father had never hit, neither had his mother. How was he to know that the impossible was to occur? There was nothing about his rank at his age that didn't scream “prodigy.” But he wasn't an alien. “Laurus!” His head turned to see a collection of people lounging by a fountain. People he recognized. People he had expected to be relaxing with in his room. “Damn, what happened to you?” Dwayne Flanders said. “You bump into something?” “An instructor.” “An instructor?” “Heheh,” Mattias Venington cackled. “Even Mr. Perfect can make an oopsie once in a while.” “Mr. Perfect. Right.” Dwayne's brow furrowed. “What's wrong man?” “Nothing. It's nothing.” “Not enough to be top dog, huh,” Mattias said, leaning back on the fountain's rim. “I'm not the top,” Laurus muttered. “What did you say?” “I'm not...” Footsteps sounded behind him as Laurus swung around. Nemesis neared him, Jatel with a fluid symmetrical stride. “Holy shit,” Dwayne said. Mattias' eyes widened. “Nice to meet you,” Jatel called out, giving a polite wave. “I'm Jatel.” Mattias' shock quickly evaporated, a glower replacing it. He turned and escaped, only leaving two prisoners in front of the monster. “Yeah, man,” Dwayne replied. “I'm Dwayne. Nice to meet you.” Jatel glanced at Laurus. “Is something wrong? Why is everyone acting so weird?” “Uh...” Dwayne said, looking at Laurus, before pointing with his forefinger. “That.” “This?” Jatel said, taking a look at his pin and cracking a smile. “But aren't there people way higher than me around here? It's no big deal.” Laurus could spot Mattias talking to a couple of other freshmen from Darringham, motioning over to Jatel. He held up all the fingers on his right hand. 5. No way. I'm not lying. More than Laurus? Yeah, we have to compete with a fucking 5-man off the bat. “It kind of is. Entering as a 5-man... is like unheard of.” “Oh, wow. Guess I underestimated myself.” He looked at Laurus again who was more interested in the ground. “Right,” Dwayne replied sheepishly. “Well, see you around.” Dwayne turned and scampered off, leaving the roommates to themselves. “I didn't expect it to go like this...” Jatel sighed. “Darringham people are more jumpy than I thought.” “Where are you from?” “Me? Danced Plains.” “The Danced Plains?!” “Pretty uncommon, right?” Jatel laughed. Uncommon. Laurus wanted to launch himself into the fountain. There must be five people that live in the Danced Plains, and one of them turned out to be a 5-man. “You're lying, right?” “Lying? No, I'm really from the Danced Plains. Why would I lie about that?” “About being a 5-man. There's no way it's not possible. No one can be a 5-man this early on, I know it --” Laurus felt the tap on his arm, turning to see Jatel's right palm facing him and five pellets rotating on his fingers. They weren't even mediocre pellets, lumpy and bright red. Black speckles floated through tightly rotating spheres. “Good enough?” Jatel said, as the pellets were absorbed. Laurus turned away and walked off, fighting bitter tears.