Nila tosses and turns in her cocoon, the loud sound of flowing water from her parent's bathroom awakening her from her peaceful sleep. She groans, smothering herself with her immensely comfortable pillow and immersing herself in the bedsheets. That's when she opens her eyes.

A sense of dread comes over her but she can't exactly pinpoint why. She turns onto her side, smooshing her face against her pillow and lays still for a few moments. Nila blinks a few times and yawns, then looks over at the large holographic image of the day's schedule on the wall. The floating, neon-blue schedule shows the time in big, bold numbers at the very top, with everyone's jobs for the day in a table below. The first person's name at the very top, as usual, is her own. She still has ten minutes until the alarm screams at her to get up and get at it. There is something peaceful about the stillness, letting her tired muscles relax even if it is just for a short period of time. She may as well admit it to herself; she has grown tired of training, no, exhausted. It has been ten years at this point.

Perhaps she made a mistake raising her hand in Mrs Muchannons class ten years ago. In that instant, it was something she really wanted to do. However, as time has passed her mother has gotten pushier and pushier and for some reason, all that has done has made Nila lose the passion she had for it. Why should she do it if it isn't for herself? Although, she also doesn't entirely know what else she would do if that wish were fulfilled. Her future on Mars seems bleak otherwise. Nila furrows her eyebrows and shuts her eyes for a few more moments of rest.

The stupid thing of it all is how she is so close to the finish line. Most people would kill to live out every Martian's dream - see Earth, hear it, feel it and fulfill a greater purpose. At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter. Like her mother says, she just has to keep forging ahead.

' You can do this,' she gives herself words of encouragement and braces herself for that annoying, robotic lady's voice.

"Nila, your training commences in approximately fifteen minutes." At that, Nila does a double-take at the clock. That wasn't the announcement she was expecting.

Of course, she had read it wrong. Her alarm had first rung forty minutes ago which means she was supposed to have got up and got at it forty minutes ago.

"Gah!" is all that she can manage to get out.

Like a feline, she shoots up out of her bed and flings the sheets off her body. Zooming across her bedroom to a gleaming full-length mirror, she stands in front of it, feet together, back straight, head high in her light grey, star-speckled nightdress. Wiping her beloved, slightly wrinkled pyjamas down, she accesses the damage she has to repair from oversleeping.

"Hair knotty as usual," she groans, earning the attention of her mother who had woken up far earlier than her schedule as habitual.

"Are you nearly ready to go pumpkin?" her voice resonates from the open dining area, no doubt sitting at the circular glass table with a mug of coffee.

"Um," Nila starts, a scowl on her face. "Yes, mother."

She's going to be late and she cannot afford to be late if she wants to make a good impression on her trainers. Nila loudly scurries into her bathroom, waking up her father in the process.

"What in the world is all this racket about?" Jared complains in his groggy morning voice.

"She's done it again," Nila's mother replies, all-knowing with a hint of disappointment.

Frantically, she studies herself in the bathroom mirror. Her short, shoulder-length brown hair is like a bird's nest on top of her head. Wild, unmaintained and a little sparse on the edges. She grabs a brush from the marble bathroom countertop and rakes it through her hair, eventually tying it up into a miniature ponytail. In annoyance, Nila pokes at the rebellious short bits that stick out like sore thumbs at the top, but she doesn't have time to meddle over perfection. She urgently squirts some toothpaste onto her toothbrush and goes to town on those pearly whites of hers.

Now all that is left is her uniform that consists of long black leggings, covered in a tough, armour-like material and a black t-shirt with the member's first and last name in bold letters on the back.

Nila is all ready to go and opens the door when as if on cue, her mother calls out from the dining room. "Eat your breakfast honey!"

Obediently, she goes in the direction of the voice, turning to a blank white wall beside their dorm rooms front door. She locates the small rectangular, silver tab and tugs open a tray that slides in and out of the plaster. If that tiny square of metallic silver wasn't jutting out then no one would even guess anything was there. Upon the tray are nicely displayed slices of oranges and apples along with three pills and a cup of water. She takes a few hurried bites out of two abnormally vibrant orange slices and grabs the white plastic cup, tilting her head back to down the three small pills inside.

"Okay, mum! I'm leaving!" she exclaims with one foot out in the hallway. In the distance, her mother's voice can be heard from her bedroom biding her a good day.

Suddenly, the voice in the back of Nila's head reminds her of her sleep in and she glances at her watch. With only eight minutes to get to the training centre, Nila sprints through the crowd-speckled corridors. Precinct 7's main marketplace is a blur crowded with bright, fluorescent and eye-catching artificial signs that stretch for miles. Along with numerous marketers, coaxing customers to various lines of stalls located in a dome-shaped open-sky area just on the boundary of Nila and Dylan's home quarters. Through the thick glass dome, Nila can just see Mars' milky yellow moons in the distance that are still visible in the daytime, with Mars' butterscotch-like sky. The marketplace is a hotspot for people collecting groceries and tradesmen and women, who are the hauliers of goods and specialities from one precinct to another. Only these people are allowed to leave their precinct's dome, otherwise, the only other exception is for a person to be either highly regarded by the government or an Official themselves. However, on special festivals or holidays, tourism is permitted to allow ordinary people to purchase foreign goods for the holiday season. District regulations such as these prevent terrorism, saturated tourism and stealing of explicit goods not available in other districts. And so far, it has worked.

Nila zooms past the market, her feet barely touching the slippery white tiles below her. Giving her the illusion of flying. This would almost be pleasant, it being a thing she usually enjoys, if it weren't for her early, demanding training sessions.

A sweaty mess, Nila groans as she forces herself to keep running as the elevator that leads to her destination conveniently opens its doors, giving her access to the first floor above ground. A male Official in suit and tie looks at her with a questioning expression to which Nila responds with an awkward smile and wave. She's given a few moments of rest accompanied with some lovely elevator music until the doors open again. A few lefts down a white corridor then a right down an almost replica of the one before and past a door requiring identification as a student...Nila finally finds herself at the T.E.D centre. She bursts through the second pair of doors past the receptionist to see her trainer holding up a stopwatch with one hand, the other on her hip. She doesn't look particularly happy. Her plump, dark lips fall into a frown.

The woman scoffs. "Just in time, take a seat."

"Sorry, Miss Megalla," Nila meekly apologises and huffs a stray strand of hair from her face.

The raven-haired instructor styles the boring, plain black top and pants that every other instructor in the T.E.D program is required to wear with her thick hair styled in a sleek, voluminous bun. Despite the monochrome bleak uniform, Nila has always thought that Miss Megalla could pull anything off with her full curves and rich, dark skin. The black compliments her complexion nicely.

While the instructor begins her announcement, Nila does her walk of shame towards her fellow classmates. 

"Okay class, The Draw will be held in the next month or so and I expect all of you to give it your best," Miss Megalla lectures as she walks down the line of students and holds her black box in the air. The 'Holo' as many prefer to abbreviate it to, displays each student's statistics from last week. "Other trainers and I will be monitoring your every move and will be checking off your achievements, this determines your ranking in the first round of The Draw. As you all probably recall from watching previous years, the leaderboard starts now. Prepare to see it mounted somewhere here in the centre in the next coming sessions and monitor your spot."

After Miss Megalla's lecture, another trainer, Mr. Devlin, a bearded, scruffy man with a built physique, takes control of the class and assigns everyone to a partner. 

Nila runs a hand through her ponytail, grimacing as she accidentally breaks apart a few knots here and there. She plops her tired body down on an empty seat in the front row beside Dylan who takes one look at her, exhales a puff of air out his nose and smirks humorously, "Hey." As per usual, Dylan's sleaked-to-the-side brown hair is gelled to perfection, his uniform ironed and he always has that particular deodorant that makes him smell of expensive mint and wood. It's definitely not cheap; probably something his dad has the luxury of buying with his top-notch salary. Nila finds herself leaning in to the scent on her chair then immediately sits herself back, starting to fret what she probably smells like. Sweat and existential crisis?

Probably.

Nila doesn't seem to find the same comedy in the situation that Dylan seems to. "Hi," she replies, with a flushed, expressionless face.

"Dylan, your partner is Nila," Mr Devlin's voice booms from the front of the room. As expected, the instructors normally partner people of the same skill level together.

Miss Megalla eventually walks over with two shiny, dark wooden swords. A 'bokken' if Nila remembers correctly from her textbooks. She hands them over to the two students and points them in the direction of where they can practise. The massive, open room they stand in is like a clash of cultures. A melting pot of century-old martial arts and health beliefs. Amongst all the high tech equipment and modern decor, the floor and surrounding area they stand in now is like that of a 'dojang' or 'dojo'. An Asian-styled hall-like area typically made of wood in which a martial art of some sort would be practised. Nila can thank her textbooks for that definition.

Nila and Dylan make their way across the shiny, plank flooring to their spot and bow politely to one another.

"Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you, you just ran a marathon after all," he mutters all gentlemanly-like. He holds his own wooden katana, readying himself for their session.

Nila rolls her eyes and grips her polished and sleek bokken tightly. "Fine. Whatever you say Dyl."

"Ready?" he questions with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Of course I am."

One of the trainers shouts "Rei!" And the session begins.

The sound of student's swords slamming against each other's in an aggressive showdown echo throughout the training room as they parry and counter-strike. Coupled with the occasional thud as someone scores a hit. Kendo is about precision and concentration. Nila being at 5'4 is a little on the shorter side compared to Dylan who's 5'9 Even though Dylan is taller and therefore larger than she is, his footfall is quite noisy, not as lightweight, and his movements especially when he begins to tire out, gets predictable making it easy to strike. One of the reasons Nila loves this the most is because she knows she's faster. Dylan takes a predictable step forward so Nila steps to the side like a panther and gives Dylan a whack on the behind.

"Do!" Nila jokingly yells as she gains another point just in time before the session ends, earning a yelp and hiss of pain from Dylan.

"That doesn't count! You know the trainers should really invest in having us wear those suits the people on Old Earth used to wear. You hit way too hard," he complains, matter-of-factly.

"Pfft, well how else are you going to learn to dodge out of the way?"

Dylan has gotten three points whilst Nila has four. The match is over and they both bow politely to one another again.

Clearly sour about the defeat, he rolls his eyes. "Good match, unfair but good, I nearly beat you this time" compliments Dylan, little glistening beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"Thanks, I did say I'd beat you," Nila sarcastically replies and they share a high five.

"Time for your rest! Make way for the other half to do their training, chop chop!" orders Miss Megalla as she directs sweaty children to the sidelines of the arena.

Normally there wouldn't be so much hustle and bustle and training would actually proceed in rotations. Different groups and people of different experience levels would go on different days but with the draw rearing its head, everything must be crammed in and judged by the day's end. Until the next day comes along. Nila wipes the beads of sweat off her forehead and plops herself down on a sofa outside the dojang.

"Did you hear? Skye worked at the nuthouse!" a boy exclaims to a group of girls and earns a shocked gasp from all but one.

Nila presumes they must be referring to the wards. They're home to Dissidents. Each precinct has one. Dissidents are what Mars refers to as the rule-breakers of society. They get themselves into all kinds of problems. They'll be so rebellious, that they'll cause to themselves to form mental problems in their brains. 'It's because they rebelled against taking their pills,' that's what the Doctors say. Her mother threatened her once as a child, saying that if she kept being so difficult about taking her pills then she'd up like a Dissident. The memory of the day that made her six-year-old-self love taking her pills for the next seven years, sends a shiver down her spine. To this very day, she may complain, but she'd never skip out on them. Nila has never actually been in a ward, but it sounds terrible. Very little privileges, very little freedom, if any. 

The shortest out of the three girls shoots daggers at the guy in mellow frustration. "It was only to fill in for my mother and that was only for three days, thank you very much!" She reasons as if to plead that she's not guilty of committing a crime. Only people that had no luck finding a job in any another department go to the mental ward. Unlike Mars' hospitals, where there are professionals like doctors, there are no doctors there. Doctors and nurses are around to supply care and treatment, however, all that's needed in the ward is management.

Intrigued, Nila begins to eavesdrop from where she sits. She really shouldn't be but it's not like her mother is around to see. Besides, it's not like she's breaking a rule, she's just collecting information.

Discreetly, the girl that spoke up looks over her shoulder, watching as the guy from before spots other acquaintances of his and dawdles away. The second he's out of earshot, she ushers her little posse of girls to a secluded spot of the waiting area.

"I can't believe you actually agreed to take your mother's place," one of them, a brunette, mumbles in disbelief.

"Actually," Skye starts, hugging herself anxiously. "I learned a few things. A lot, really. I was surprised. There are a lot of crazies in there but this one guy, he wasn't crazy. Not at all."

"Who was this guy and what was he in there for?" the last girl finally speaks up for once, her voice full of curiosity and confusion.

"He uh, was in there for refusing to take any medication, especially his pills. He was in one of the cells that I was instructed to clean."

The brunette rolls her eyes, folding her arms in the process. "Ugh, by the pink on your cheeks I'm guessing he's cute. Cute but a stupid Dissident, what a waste. You didn't listen to anything he said did you?"

"He didn't really talk that much, to be honest. But when he did, some of the things he said I've been thinking about a lot lately."

The brunette, who Nila vaguely remembers her name to be something like Danielle or Dakota, shakes her head pitifully. "Don't be so gullible. I know you've wanted to get in a relationship for a while now but with someone from the peanut gallery? That's a bit sad."

"Dakota, just hear me out. He raised something eye-opening about the pills. You don't have to listen, I just need someone, anyone to tell it to," Skye proposes, desperation in her eyes.

"Oka, I'll-" the blonde girl starts, hesitatingly looking over her shoulder at Dakota. "I'll hear you out. This doesn't mean I'll do anything though."

Skye lets out an exasperated huff of air. "Thank you, Sarah," she murmurs and takes a few glances around the room, before nodding her head and moving the group further away. Their voices are too far for Nila to decipher. What she can make out, however, is that the conversation isn't going too well. Skye grasps urgently onto Sarah's arm. Sarah looks around like a scared mouse caught in a rat trap, and Dakota stands close by but reproachfully - her eyebrows furrowed and set high on her forehead. By the end of it, both Sarah and Dakota where inching themselves back away.

"Sorry Skye, I don't want to be a part of it. You see since my dad is a government Official he wouldn't um, well, he-"

"What Sarah is trying to say is her father wouldn't want his respectable daughter being a known acquaintance of a to-be-Dissident," Dakota flips her hair over her shoulder, her tall frame towering over Skye. "And what, are you crazy? Talking about such things in the T.E.D centre? Get a grip. All you're gonna do is cause hysteria and the next plaque or something with your little plan."

Nila watches as Skye stands idly with her hands by her sides in the middle of the waiting area. A certain pang of sympathy hits her in the chest. Despite Skye trying to spread rumours, she shouldn't be so alienated. She is, after all, one of the newer TED members.

Nila watches as Skye stands idly with her hands by her sides in the middle of the waiting area. Isolated, rejected and defeated. A certain pang of sympathy hits her in the chest. Despite Skye attempting to speak of blasphemous things, she shouldn't be treated that way. She is, after all, one of the newer T.E.D program members.

"You really shouldn't invest your thoughts in those things. Especially anything that comes out of a Dissident's mouth," Nila states in a soft but stern tone, to ensure that no one nearby hears their discussion. "They're all doped up on medication. You can't believe everything they say."

However, Skye merely glares bitterly in response.

"Gossip spreads easy in TED. You'll get yourself a bad rep or worse."

"Yeah, I think I got the message Nila."

"I'm just saying."

"Why can't we share our thoughts about this place without getting shut down? Are people really so damn scared?" the girl rants.

"Well, you were in the Ward right? Surely you'd understand why they'd be scared." Nila furrows her eyebrows.

"Being in that prison is a million times better than the horrors the government is actually doing."

"Yeah, okay, okay." Nila takes a few steps back. "I just came over to give some advice."

Skye defensively crosses her arms, her brown eyes sending daggers into Nila's and scoffs. "Why were you even listening in the first place? If you don't like it and you're so 'goody-two-shoes' why are you even talking to me and not handing me into the ward yourself?" A minute goes by where Nila finds herself contemplating about the new T.E.D member's question and Skye raises an eyebrow in expectation.

"I, no reason. Don't be over-dramatic. I was new here once too. Unless you're high on the leaderboard, you need alliances or even better, friends. You'll scare everyone off with whatever you're talking about."

"Only the gullible ones."

"Bit harsh."

The girl sighs. "You don't know the full extent. I've seen you in the dining hall before, the way you look at the pills before you're forced to take them and the way your mother berates you every time you hesitate. I've also seen how you love to get in other people's business, like this moment for instance, so you're quite the curious cat aren't you?"

Nila scoffs. "Don't talk about me like you know me."

"Well-" Skye's slightly high-pitched voice starts to utter a new sentence before Nila intervenes.

"And why are we suddenly talking about the pills? You say these things like I'm actually interested."

"If you'd let me finish maybe you'd know," she reasons, annoyance clear in her voice.

"I don't want to know."

With that, the conversation seems to have taken an end. Calmly, Skye stares Nila- whose cheeks are now tinged red with annoyance and posture stays unusually stiff, up and down before eventually speaking again.

"You know I held the same stubborn look on my face and muttered the same excuse when Daniel told me all about the pills. It intrigued me, and it intrigues you too. You're just in denial. I can't blame you though, you're just a small sheep brought up in a society that has indoctrinated you to stay in the lines. Not everyone has the smarts to escape it. Especially when your mother has you on such a tight leash." Skye sighs and leans against the wall, sucking in her cheeks and looking around the room idely.

"Excuse you?" Nila says, the offence clear on her face.

Skye takes due note of this and says snidely, "gullible, it's a shame," before moving to stroll away towards another desolated corner of the waiting area when, out of the blue, Nila's right hand urgently grabs hold of one of her tiny wrist.

Biting the inside of her cheeks, Nila furrows her eyebrows and gives in to temptation. "Fine. Tell me about it," she demands.

After looking to and fro around the waiting area and leading Nila to a somewhat safe, secluded place, Skye happily obliges. The girl leans in and speaks in a hushed tone, "We can't speak in great detail right now but meet me alone after TED tomorrow afternoon. I'll spill everything. Until then...you don't get added to the gene pool, pieces of you do. And the people on Earth love your so-called immune system pills – stop taking them and you'll see you won't get sick."

After whispering those cryptic sentences, the blonde girl scans the room of any potential watchers before locking eyes with Nila as if to exaggerate her sincerity and heads on her way. Meanwhile, Nila stands dumbfounded and a little weirded out. Is the phrase 'pieces of you do' supposed to be metaphorical? Is she talking about the risk of encountering mutant animals down there? In a confused state, Nila slowly heads back to training in an attempt to make today as normal as possible.

However, the day decides that a top-secret government conspiracy theory just isn't exciting enough.

"Everyone, stop what you're doing!" yells Miss Megalla and the class goes quiet. "We have a new student who will be training with us from now on. Go on," the trainer gently nudges the new student into the classroom and tells her to introduce herself.

"Hi, I'm Anna," the girl mumbles, followed by an awkward wave.

Nila eyes down the newcomer. Anna has long, curly, ginger hair that's done up in a plait. With long and dark eyelashes that are accompanied by rich, brown eyes. She's a bit shorter than most of the people in the class but would still be considered tall. Not to mention a bit paler. For some reason, everyone on Mars is generally tall and tan.

But Nila doesn't need an introduction, she already knows who the girl is. Anna is her best friend.

Nila looks beside her to see the confusion spreading across Dylan's face. He's almost as shocked as she is.

"Would anyone like to volunteer to be Anna's partner?" asks Mr Devlin, his hands on his hips as per usual.

Nila's hand shoots up immediately. "I will, Mr Devlin."

Anna walks over to her partner with a weak smile. From her expression Nila can tell that she can sense the confusion.

"Hey, what are you doing in training? I thought you went into farming like your mother wanted you to."

"It's a long story, I'll tell you afterwards. In the meantime, please don't stare at me like I'm the tooth fairy or something," Anna jokingly begs.

"Sure and sorry," Nila laughs as she apologises, realising her actions.

The class goes back to practising their defence drills. Surprisingly, Anna is much more powerful and skilled then Nila thought she would be. She was constantly being put off guard and even trips over a couple of times, which for her is quite embarrassing.

"Lunch break!" a trainer yells and everyone drops what they're doing and walks over to a wall where numerous trays with student's names on them waited and beckoned to be opened. At lunch, much to Nila's relief, no one is required to consume any pills. They are only to be eaten at dinner and breakfast in the morning. Since lunch breaks usually last at least twenty minutes, now is Nila's chance to find out what's wrong with her friend. Nila and Anna walk off with their food to their own personal space in the room to talk.

"Can you tell me now?" Nila persists.

Anna sighs, "I suppose so, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

"Do Dylan and Chloe know?"

"Yeah, of course." Anna pauses for a minute then starts to speak, "My family is in debt, Nila. The pay has been so little lately at the farms that we can't manage to buy even a portion of what we harvest for ourselves. Lately, farmers have been down on their hands and knees twenty-four seven growing food and then hardly getting any of it! For some reason, double the amount of food is being sent to Earth and we're starting to suffer. I need to get in The Draw, because if I get called out to go to Earth then my family will be rewarded with some extra salary. Luckily, considering my age, the officials decided to make an exception." Anna speaks quickly with desperation in her voice.

As she speaks, Nila studies her frail friend up and down. So that is why her complexion looks so pale, her figure so feeble.

Taking both of her friend's shoulders in her hands, Nila looks into Anna's eyes and gives her shoulders a squeeze.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll figure something out. Dylan and I have done TED for years, we'll get you up the board. Hell, we could even all go together."

"Really? You reckon that's possible?"

"Anything's possible," Nila answers with a shrug.

Anything is possible. What about the conspiracy Skye clued Nila into earlier today? However, that can't be possible; it's a conspiracy, a story, a myth built on hysteria.

It's just a conspiracy and conspiracies aren't possible.