They came in as rainbows and left in military greens, struggling into sameness. The rainbows were naive initiating smiles, which later turned into tears. She had joined a corporate cult, worshiping the red white and blues of tormented history and stolen land. She had joined in a delusion, and it unraveled before her as she carried her weight in belongings in a yellow duffel bag biting down her shoulder. The bag was heavy and then heavier and then heavier until she could bear no more.
Why did she bother bringing these things when it was going to be taken all away? She should have paid more attention to her recruiter. All words seemed to fly away, and all she could remember was, “Pretend that you’re stoned. Just let them yell away”.
So she pretended they were her father, and nothing phased her, their voices just blurred away like faces in a crowd. Her recruiter use to joke, that she came in because she misread the sign, “Aim high”. Perhaps mistaking it for “Get high”. Maybe so, she always seemed high or different to people who did not know her, and even to people who did. She always seemed that way even as a kid.
She had to learn. This is where she will learn to blend in. It will be a reckoning force that would change the nature of her character. That’s the magic of brainwashing. That’s the magic of boot camp.
Another tip from her recruiter came into her mind, “Do not volunteer. Just blend in and you’ll be okay”. Yeah right, but he was right. Even when you’re not okay you’re okay.
It was a bizarre start, as she was chosen to lead sheep into planes, and then to their final destination from civilianship to the military owns-me-ship. Why did they choose her? She was confused and had no sense of direction. She was overwhelmed. She wanted to shut down, but there was no escape. She had leased her soul to a force greater than herself and now she was property.
Luckily, there were people that were helpful and who knew ways of the world. Their unremembered faces guided her through the beginnings of that terrifying journey moving from extended adolescence into a premature adulthood that would never truly bloom. Her parents were always there for all her flights, so this was her first time flying without them.
She flew straight into day zero of hell week. There was no sleep for her that night. Across from her, a dark girl with fear in her eyes had told the MTI’s (military training instructors) that she needed to get out of there, and that she might have crabs, causing much chaos for the rest of the herd. Linens and clothing were all removed and sealed into huge plastic bags. The MTI’s lead the naked females like livestock into hot shower rooms to disinfect.
No sleep. No sleep. They were all too tired even for their own fatigues. All the disorder just to find out the dark girl didn’t have crabs after all. She had a yeast infection, and hence to be christened “Crabcakes” for the remainder of her six weeks there. It was badge of embarrassment as well as an ever-reminding retribution. Poor girl. Poor girls.