"What? Is this a joke?" I ask rhetorically, with a more than obvious sign of disbelief. "What does it mean to be a raider? I've never heard of anything like that."

"That's because they do their job very well, my dear," he says. "Raiders normally go to places where normal people would never dare to enter to obtain information or certain items that could be an advantage for the Republic."

"It's more like a spy or a thief," I say. "Are we talking about a game or about my life? Raider! I almost imagine myself going into lost temples to retrieve gold figurines and escape as they collapse upon me."

"Not at all, my dear. It is simply the most important job anyone can offer in this country. We're on our way to war. Those stupid treaties of peace are of no use, so we need to be more prepared than our enemies. As you know –hopefully– they surround us and expect us to make a false move to attack us, like jackals around a wounded animal.

At that moment, a female voice announces that we are arriving at Police Station 27. All train passengers stand up. All of the same age, with the same dreams and fears. That was the terminal station. Some would gain everything, and others would lose it. On which side of the scale will I end up?

I look back at the officer trying to get some more information that will help me define myself. The passengers approach the door, and he takes a step back.

"Trust me, my dear. You won't regret it."

Pushed by the young flock, I get off the train. I let the crowd go forward, and I turn around to say goodbye to the enigmatic officer. The doors close in front of my face. The train begins to move and he talks to me. I can't hear his words, but I read his lips and understand what he's saying.

"Goodbye, Sayi."

How the hell does he know my name? I walk on autopilot mode to a large building made of white metal, uncared for, and dirty with rust. I can hardly appreciate the astonishing sight before me. These were the streets of a city I didn't know. I live, I feed myself and I educate? myself... in the landfill. Damn that officer! His words are stealing my opportunity to get to know a new ecosystem different from what I am used to. Tall glass buildings, people with new clean clothes, shiny vehicles, no such things as dirt or poor people. Nothing like me.

"The scenery isn't on the ground", a voice to my right tells me.

I turn my head and find myself next to a young guy who is looking directly at me. He has dark blonde hair, milky white skin and dark circles that frame his green eyes. He is about eight inches taller than me and muscular, in spite of being skinny and good-looking. No. That description doesn't do him justice. He is beautiful. And he doesn't smell like garbage.

"I have a few things I'm thinking about..."

"Ben Beliera."

Before I hadn't paid much attention to his words, but as he introduced himself I noticed a faint French accent. Do we have international stars among us? What would he be doing here? I don't believe he would've thought to leave France for the unstable Spanish Republic. Nobody in their right mind would do that.

"Aren't you a little far from home, Frenchy?" I asked, still bothered by his intrusion.

"I'm a pure-blooded Spaniard, it's just that my father was working in France for ten years until the labor reforms threw out everyone that wasn't at least a second generation French citizen. They didn't want us there, but they didn't throw a welcome party for us here either," he complained while glancing at me irritated, as if he were looking for a counter-attack. "And what about you, trash collector?"

He found out. It wasn't very difficult either. In spite of having bathed myself in the river (I don't know how much cleaner it was than the dumpster) and having put on perfume, the stench of an entire life spent living amongst garbage left its unforgettable mark. If I'm honest, I don't notice it anymore. I got used to it a long time ago. Although at times I'm able to notice it.

"I'm from here too. Landfill 27," I replied sharply.

Fortunately, there wasn't any more time to talk. We went into the rusted police building where the officers were dressed in old, stained clothes. Their faces were sad, like the faces of the people in my neighborhood. Obviously, they knew that the great majority of us wouldn't leave there alive. But, like I said, desperation is greater than the fear of dying. One gunshot is much better than dying dehydrated, starving and sick.

They separate us by gender. The guys go one way and the girls take another, even though the pre-test is the same for everyone. I'm trying to remember if the officer from the train had told me a key word for that raider thing. In just a couple of minutes, someone will ask me and I'm going to have to answer quickly. Hesitations were also a way to a body bag. Come on, any weird thing was a one-way ticket to the great beyond.

"Sayi Bravo," shouted a burly woman.

I walk as confident as possible to the small cubicle with plain white walls and only one chair. The officer tells me to sit down. From her position of power, she looks down at me, wrinkling her nose because of my odor (trash mixed with what was left of perfume). I had reserved it for a special day. I don't believe there could be a more important day than this in my life.

"I am going to ask you a series of questions to determine if you are suitable for a career in design, fine arts and sports. Let's start with..."

"Raider. I'm going to be a raider," I cut her off without hesitation. Her strong-featured face grimaces with surprise and disapproval.

"Wh...who told you...?"

"The officer on the train," I answer with a confidence that I don't have. Truthfully, I'm squeezing tight trying not to shake. My heart's beating out of control and I'm scared that I'm going to hyperventilate and faint. I can't show the fear that overwhelms me. I could have signed my death sentence!

"Very well. Follow me," she responds with a morbid smile. That's it. I screwed up. I should have taken the exam.

We leave through another door that takes us through a dimly lit hallway with lots of rooms, where I can hear buzzing. I don't recognize where it's coming from until I pass by and I look inside. Aligned facing the wall, a group of ten teenagers like myself, have their backs turned to a firing squad which doesn't hesitate to shoot. My blood freezes seeing the heads of those poor, unfortunate kids splatter against the wall. No! I made a mistake! They are going to kill me! Why the hell did I listen to that man! I should have chosen to be an actress like I was thinking! N...now...it's my turn...

Suddenly, I realize that it isn't all black and white. A second more of life is something worth fighting for and dying. I shouldn't have gotten on the train. I should have stayed home. Oh God! Dad! Why did I do this?

I look around for an exit. It is packed with armed police that, at one false move, will not hesitate to take me down. Maybe this is a test. If I want to be a raider, I must have nerves of steel, analyzing the place that I have to break into and escape alive. I can't let myself be defeated...

What the hell am I thinking? This isn't a game! I can't fool myself like that. This isn't a damn test. This is the sad reality. Gunshots do damage and they can kill you. You don't have extra lives or regenerating health. If you screw it up, you die!

The police officer turns and enters a room on the right, presumably the same as the others that I've passed. For a few seconds I am alone in the hallway, without anyone who can stop me. It's a test, a voice in my head says. Escape, now!

Down the hall, I can see an open door a few yards beyond the room that awaits my destiny. Don't hesitate! Run! Then I remember the tons of old movies I used to watch on my old 32k television. Different characters used to say that they preferred dying on their own terms instead of someone else's. They were, above all, very brave fictitious characters, but the majority of them were born from the imagination of a writer or director. I have doubts, frustrations and a very real fear.

I close my eyes for a second and sigh. I start to run. Yes! Escape! Thinking too much can be fatal. Inaction is my enemy.

When I pass the room I see, from a distance, another group of teens with their executioners. I'm happy to have heard that inner voice, and at the same time, I feel sorry for them.

I go through the door and shut it immediately. I am in a little room with no light other than the outside. I don't have the access key to lock the door, so I use the chair hoisted against the deadbolt in order to block the doorway. I hear yells from the other side and the police are beating on the door. It's not going to hold up for very long.

On the opposite side of the room there is an open window that I look out. I am two floors above a dark alley and it's my only escape route. I stick out my right leg and step on the ledge, I continue with the left while clinging to the window frame. It's very narrow. I don't have many options other than to lower myself down and grab the window or ledge below.

Like I expected, the door burst open. I jump and try to grab the window of the floor below but I don't have enough strength to stop myself. I slide, my feet don't have the necessary support and I collapse on my back on the ground. I spin just enough so that the fall doesn't shatter my spine. Still, I end up smashing my left shoulder against the hard, rough asphalt. The pain is so intense and my accompanying yell echoes, getting the attention of the passersby.

I get up stunned, I bring my hand to my shoulder and find that my hoodie is getting wet with a fluid that can't be anything other than my blood. I refrain from yelling and I move towards the walkway on my left. Various police officers look out the window and fire their guns. The bullets crash an inch or two from my feet. I pick up speed, trusting that the adrenaline is flooding the nerves that make me sensitive to the suffering of what's probably a multiple fracture.

I end up in a big avenue with tall buildings, snazzy modern cars flowing gracefully in both directions, and people dressed in beautiful outfits. Some look at me with surprise without knowing how to act in front of someone of my class. Others decide to ignore my presence, as if I were invisible.

I don't know where to run. I'm lost. I don't know what way I should follow to return to the landfill. Although it would be a bad decision. I would be putting my father in danger (who says that hiding isn't what he was doing as well?). I need to think differently, act as if my prior seventeen years were the product of a dream.

The streets are full of people, and if I run I will bring more attention to myself than if I walk. I go to the right, distancing myself from the police station and I start to mix in with the crowd.

Passing the side of a cafeteria, I see a shawl thrown over a table and I use it to cover my head. Another few feet in front of me, a woman carelessly leaves her purple silk blazer unattended (a little big for me) but I rob it as well and I put it over my shoulders.

A few hundred yards behind me, I notice the commotion of anxious policemen starting to look for me. I turn the corner and accelerate my pace. At the next block there is a huge commercial center and other pedestrian streets with different businesses attended by robots. I cast aside the option of shopping because it's logical that I would go towards there because of the mobs of people inside. However, there are very few exits, and it's easy to police them and wait for me to leave. On the other hand, the street was still offering me a ton of options for disappearing.

Without stopping to read the names, I go down them and I proceed turning left or right without any particular order. The flow of people, as well as the buildings, is getting smaller. I am reaching the residential neighborhoods.

I decide to stop when I get to a leafy park. I look for a bench and I sit down. The pain in my shoulder starts throbbing again. It's just a matter of seconds until I can't move it without screaming in pain. I'm so worried about what I'm going to do to fix it that I don't realize that a man has come out of nowhere and is sitting next to me.

"I believe that you've gotten farther than anyone on this test, Sayi," he tells me with his deep voice. I look at the slanted brown eyes of a grey haired fifty-something soldier.

"How the hell...?" I didn't finish asking the question when I look at the back of my hand. "Oh, God! The chip!"

I immediately collapse and start to cry. For a moment,I had thought that I could do it, that I really would have the opportunity toget away. I was wrong and that was going to cost me my life.