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It's very dark out, but I know it's morning from the clock on the shelf. Most people would still be asleep, I could probably walk around in the halls if I wanted to. I'm a bit hesitant considering the security cameras though. It's easy for me to do what I want but if it looks like I'm getting too many ideas about my freedom I could be back in re-training for months. 

The very thought of "re-training" fills me with rage. Thoughts of my "re-trained" brother with his eyes stabbed out and bleeding, screaming out in terror is more than I can bear to think about. The poor boy was going through hell because he tried to sing a song in the cafeteria. The simple act of singing, an expression of freedom, was horrifically contagious in a camp of repressed expression. He could have initiated a total revolution in the cafeteria that day, but the guards brought the room under control almost immediately. Unbeknownst to most, the cafeteria is really a gas chamber; anytime the crowd gets out of control the gas knocks everyone out and they can't remember what happened. I've never been gassed, I'm not sure what it's like, but I hear it is scarily effective. Years of scientific study and development has turned this camp into a well oiled machine, cranking out the greatest warriors the war effort has seen.

And I'm the best one they've made thus far.

I'm up early because today is the big day. I leave the camp to go on my first mission. I've been briefed with the information I need for the event, I know I'll be the one on the front lines flushing out most of the Togs and then I can enter the base and shut it down. I have a perfect verbal and photographic memory, I have twice the capacity to remember information as a regular human, so I have memorized the instructions for this event without issue. Performing the operation will not be hard. The hard part will be the trauma of experiencing the outside world. I've heard a lot of bad stories about Maniacs who come into the real world and die trying to escape their mission or worse, maniacs who kill themselves the first chance they get because they are miserable. I'm not miserable because my life is pretty easy for me to handle, I have all the resources I need to succeed for what I was made to do. Admittedly I have a strong moral compass that has developed silently and purely of its own accord that tells me everything I was ever made to do or be represents the most horrible existence in the world, but because of things that have happened to me before I know that if I hold out long enough someday someone will save me from the nightmare.  

And that's exactly what happened.
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Submitted on
September 7, 2017
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