33 KiB
The Difference Between an Idiot and a Moron
Adir sat alone in the waiting room. He could feel the receptionist's eyes on him, and huddled nervously on a simple plastic chair.
He was in a small, light-beige colored room, the color almost identical to his uniform, blending him in, swallowing him. Traces of strong noon daylight came through the milky glass panels around the door.
A plain, small plaque read 'Dedicated Personnel Officer'.
The room was lit with harsh white halogen bulbs - Adir could scarcely raise his head without instinctively reaching for his temples. Some effort appears to have been made at hospitality -- some pictures, some thank you notes, a few ancient magazines, a few stray old pillows -- but he felt it was a weak, false facade.
Adir had forgotten how uncomfortable the uniform is. The heavy black boots, the rough unbreathing fabric, the shirt tucked into the pants, the vile warm beret on his shoulder, yet of all those it was the smallest touch he hated the most -- the cold metal dog-tag touching his heart. He always wore it over his shirt, against regulations, dreading the cold metal -- but he could still feel the cold seeping through the worn fabric.
Adir could not even bring himself to use his phone, snugly tucked away in his pocket. Having spent so much of his time cut off it still felt unnatural to him, alien, even wrong. From the endless sea of information, entertainment and comforts of the Internet, he could think of nothing to do, and so sat there awkwardly staring at his heavy black boots, adjusting his shirt, his socks or his cuffs and being generally miserable.
The door suddenly opened and a pretty, middle aged woman stepped out with bold, confident movement.
Upon seeing him, she drew her notepad and searched it intently.
'Hello! Welcome! Good to have you here!' she said sweetly. Perhaps too sweetly.
'You are... Tom! Was it? I'll see you inside in just a minute, Tom.'
'Adir', he croaked in response, surprised at how feeble his voice was.
That took her aback. 'I see. There must be some mistake -- I was expecting a young man named Tom. Rachel, when is Tom's appointment due?'
'10:30', the receptionist shot back without so much as drawing breath.
'Well, I shan't wait any further then - it's been long enough. Adir, you're scheduled for... 11:45, was it?"
"12:00"
"Really? How odd. Rachel?"
"12:00"
"Well then, there's certainly no need for you to be here so soon. You can go back to your office in the meantime. We'll ring you up."
The receptionist stared murder at her.
Adir, in turn, stared at his feet. He made no move to rise, never meeting the officer's gaze. She sighed deeply.
"...Though I suppose I could push your appointment early", the officer said, mild irritation slipping into her voice. "How about you wait here a while, and I'll see you inside soon?"
He nodded.
"Alright," she said, closing the door behind her, and Adir was left alone with the receptionist again.
The door swung open again, yanking Adir from his train of thought. He had not the faintest idea to how much time has passed, or what was he just thinking about.
"Adir?", the officer offered sweetly. "Come on inside".
He shot one last frightened look at reception and stepped in.
The Dedicated Personnel Officer's room was not large, but it felt spacious thanks to the grand floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the entryway outside -- Adir could just see the soldiers streaming in and out of the luxurious building. The only furnishings were a simple, standard issue wooden desk and three more simple plastic chairs lined against the wall, facing ninety degrees from the desk. A few simple photos were on the walls, as well as a small picture frame on the desk -- he could not make out anything in them.
The officer made her way behind the desk, her back to the window, with well adjusted movements.
"You can sit down, Adir. Please do feel comfortable", she said softly. He had not realized he was still standing, towering over her like some big dumb golem - and so, flustered, he sat down hunched on the middle chair. The officer watched him with observant eyes but made no remark.
"Hello, Adir."
"Hi.".
"I am Tamara -- I've been a psychologist here for just over fifteen years now. I am the head of the personnel department, and I do not usually treat soldiers as they come in, aside from more severe cases. However, I understand you've been waiting for some time -- a month or so, was it?"
"Since December."
"No, no, that can't be right. How long have you been waiting, Adir?"
"Since December", Adir said again, finally finding some fortitude in his voice. "I've asked for an appointment in early November. It was scheduled for December".
"Are you certain?"
He nodded.
"Adir, you're already here", Tamara said in a comforting voice. "I understand how you feel, truly, but there's no need to make an impression".
Adir said nothing.
"You don't expect me to believe it's been five months?"
Adir drew in a breath, and maintained his silence.
"Well, that's interesting - never mind about that, I can look into it later. Shall we begin?"
"Tell me about yourself, Adir."
"Not much to tell."
This time, it was Tamara who maintained her silence.
"I was drafted in December, last year", Adir said after giving it some thought. "One month of boot camp. Four months of training. Five months in 108. And here since".
"So it says in your file, Adir. Let's go over it, just in case. You are... 20?"
"Yes."
"Born late December, '97"
"Had 19 in boot camp", he chuckled.
"Have both parents?"
"Fortunately, yes"
"Any siblings? Brothers, sisters?"
"A younger sister, and a younger brother."
"Fill in their details here, please". She handed him a form and a pen on her notepad. Adir painstakingly filled them -- it took a surprisingly long time.
"Any of them in service?" she asked as he was slaving away.
"No."
"Your sister - isn't she of age?"
"She is."
"What happened?"
"Wasn't cut out for it. She's in National service". He handed back the form.
"Doing what?", Tamara asked absent minded, brows furrowed as she deciphered his handwriting.
"Teaching at-risk youth."
Tamara looked up and smiled widely. "That's lovely!"
"I'm really proud of her".
"How about your brother?"
"He's fine. Good student."
"Does he know what he's going to do in the army?"
"He's thirteen."
"I see." Tamara paused momentarily. "What do your parents do, Adir?"
"Dad's a physicist. Mom's a lawyer"
"Where does your father work?"
"Ministry of Defense"
"Sounds interesting. What does he do?"
"No idea. He can't say."
"I'm quite familiar with it, being here. Must be difficult for you."
"He's a bit of a drama queen. Always complains about his rough day. But I can never tell if he's bluffing."
"Surely your mother knows"
"They met at the job, so she knows what's going on. It's really annoying".
"You mentioned she's a lawyer?"
"She is."
"Of what field?"
"Workspace law. I was the most well treated waiter on Earth."
"I see," said Tamara.
"Everything good at home? Violence between the parents?"
"No."
"Financial status?"
"We're doing OK. Pretty good."
"Wealthy?"
"Wouldn't say so. Upper middle class, maybe".
"And you? Big spender?"
"Absolutely not. Saving every penny."
"What for?"
Adir hesitated. "Whatever comes. I'll see."
"So, let's go over your service thus far, shall we?"
"What is your role called, again?"
"I am a Computing Systems Infrastructure Manager".
"Role number?" she asked, scribbling.
"1850".
"Never heard of it before."
"It's not air force. Communication corps"
"Ah! that explains it. What do you do?"
"We're in charge of maintaining the military's operational data centers and classified computing systems. Spread throughout the corps"
"Must be interesting".
Adir struggled for words, brows furrowed, and relented with a tense silence. Tamara surveyed him cautiously.
"You went to boot camp at... Spring Buds rookie base?"
He nodded.
"December boot camp in the south. Hard introduction to military life."
"We heard jets and mortars at night."
"Right, right! It's just by the strip, isn't it?"
"15km."
"Must be hard."
"For those fighting, I'm sure. I can't say I struggled especially."
"Following that, you were stationed at the Computer Science School."
"Defense Forces Academy Of Computer Professions And Cyberspace Defense", Adir recited out of habit. "It's a mouthful."
"What did you study there?"
"It's a very wide field. There's been a touch of everything. Some Operating systems. Some databases. A bit of computer hardware. Some programming."
"Were you a good study?"
"I was the underdog. But I pulled through nicely."
"What's drawn you into computers?"
"Nothing at all, really".
Tamara looked at him questioningly.
"It's a cold, dead field."
"Yet it sounds like you've gone through some hardcore training. Five months is a really long time for basic training."
"It was brutal. Studying nonstop from 7AM close to midnight."
"Why go through all that, then?"
"That's what they offered."
"It's a voluntary course."
"I had no other choice lined up."
"Let's go over your education, Adir. Finished highschool?"
"Yes."
"University? I see you were accepted into post-uni service."
"It didn't run that year."
"Many decide to go on their own."
Adir straightened his slouch and looked at Tamara.
"Not me," he said.
Tamara caught his gaze and held it intently. That was the first time he had seen her eyes. They seemed soft, but now they carried a fierce intensity - something he had not seen in a good while.
"What did you study in highschool?"
It took him a moment to register the question -- her hard gaze distracted him greatly.
"Biology and Biotechnology."
"Quite a long way off from the cold, dead field of computers".
"It's a noble science. Fascinating, too."
"You must feel displaced."
"I wasn't expecting it as an army job."
"Funny you should say so. Many young men base their studies on their aspired military role. Some even earn their training in service."
"Not me."
"Why not?"
"It's a different chapter of my life."
"How so?"
"I didn't choose."
"You could petition for a different role. It's not set in stone"
"I did not choose to serve."
"Adir, Many young soldiers are dissatisfied in service. But if everyone had a choice, the army could not stay afloat," she questioned him pointedly, "Could it?"
"I don't care for that discussion. Nor am I complaining. I was asked to serve, so I did - still, it deserves acknowledgment."
"How do you feel about it?"
"About what?"
"The lack of choice."
"There's no way to feel about it. It's a fact of life. I had no say. So I just don't bother."
"That's an interesting response. Most of those I meet here rage against that 'fact', as you put it. They feel powerless since they refuse to accept it, and struggle against it until they are released - and some even well afterwards."
"Can imagine. Not very useful, though."
"Would you say that's important to you? Acting useful?"
"That's a whole other discussion."
"So what's hurting you, Adir? You know where you stand. You knew this was coming, from what I gather. Everything's fine at home. It sounds like you lead a good life thus far."
"I did. I'm quite satisfied."
"So why are you here?" she peered into him. This time, he stood his ground.
Adir composed himself and stared back.
"I am depressed", he said. It still hurt admitting it, but it was getting easier. He hated how it was getting easier.
"I wouldn't say it's up to you to decide; you hadn't visited a mental health professional, as we've established. Or have you?"
"Not recently."
"So, you self diagnose. I'll be happy to talk to you, and we'll figure out what's wrong and how I can help together. But blatant self-diagnosis -- it will get us nowhere. So let's avoid that terminology, for now."
Adir did not break his gaze.
"Call it whatever you will -- that's the best name I have for it at present."
"What makes you think you're depressed, Adir?"
He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. Somehow, the question never occurred to him. He just was depressed.
"It's the small things. It gets harder to get out of bed every day. My head always hurts, and I can never concentrate anymore."
Tamara listened intently and said nothing.
"I... I just don't care about anything anymore. I don't bother seeing my friends, or doing anything for myself, or at all really. I feel hollow, and cold. And I'm always so, so tired."
Tamara remained silent.
"I figured out something's wrong when I realized that if I sit alone in a blank room, and everything's absolutely fine -- I'll just... get sad. Just because."
Tamara nodded in thought. Adir said nothing.
"What is it do you think you think made you feel like that? Is there something specific you can point out?"
"I... don't know. I've always been resilient". He paused. "Nothing
really happened, and I just... broke down."
"How have you been coping?"
"I don't feel like I did at all. Back during training, I could still somehow function. But I remember feeling like there's a stone in my chest, and every day it got a little bigger. It gets harder and harder to breath. Nowadays, I'm utterly useless."
"Surely you're not utterly useless."
"I haven't been working a good several months now. Nobody bothers with me."
"Nobody... bother with you? What do you mean?"
"They kicked me out. I know my job, and I know it damn well -- whatever else they may say about me, none has said otherwise. But apparently, they thought I wasn't worth it. I was kicked out. And I've been idle ever since."
"Adir, nobody thinks you're 'not worth it'. You are here, getting treatment, aren't you?"
"It took half my service, but sure. I guess I am".
"Let's not go to such harsh tones! I'm here to help, Adir"
"You see," he said passionately, "I'm sure you are. And my commanders have been saying the same thing since boot camp. But at the end of the day, those are all just big words that don't amount to anything. I've been struggling for... eighteen months now. And I've yet to see anyone lift a finger.
I'm not saying this against you -- I know how it sounds, but I'm not, really.
But I've lost faith. I'll believe it when I see it."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said.
"I am, too", Adir answered, blinking back tears. "I am, too."
"Have you talked to any of your commanders?"
"I did, sure. You know, I got transferred here -- that doesn't really happen. They knew I had trouble at Hutspace. But they clung to me like a wet towel."
"How so?"
"Training is supposed to be another four months over the Communication corp training. I've already done it in Hutspace. I had the same role. But they insisted I go through it again.
Fine. I did. It took me two weeks -- and they just said I should wait until I get enrolled into shifts. That never happened. They 'didn't like my energy'. When I came to ask them what's that all about, I was berated."
"What did they tell you?"
"You walk around with your head down. You don't have a passion; being here is a privilege, and yet you don't act like you're privileged. How can we trust you like that?"
"Must be frustrating, feeling as you describe -- but I'm sure it's out of good intentions"
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
"So it's said."
They sat silent for a while.
"What did you tell them?"
"Same as I've told you. I'm depressed."
"That was late November"
"And I've been away ever since."
"What have you been doing?"
"Both my commanding officer and his commanding officer were replaced in mid-December. The new officer has never so much as seen my face. Most of the squad has been promoted and replaced since."
"Haven't you? You should be a corporal by now, but you're not wearing your rank."
"I refused my rank."
"I didn't know you can do that."
"The unit commander came to our entire cycle -- eight of us from Communications. They made a big scene of it, and asked me to come up. I said no. What can they do in front of everyone?"
"Why would you refuse?"
"Why would I accept it? I'm not working. They kept blabbering about how rank is 'earned, not just granted'. What did I ever do to earn it, besides pouting and being miserable?"
"That doesn't come across as very cooperative".
Adir let that roll around for a bit. "No," he replied. "I suppose it doesn't".
Tamara sighed.
"I'll tell you what, Adir. I think you're just a little misplaced. Many young men have trouble adapting to their new roles, especially those that grasp themselves as resilient -- like you. I think we can have a long talk with your new commanding officer, get you reinstated, and keep talking from there.
How does that sound?"
"The new commanding officer," Adir said, "Is from Hutspace, and witnessed the whole spectacle I threw to get myself out of there. She's judged me now, and she doesn't know I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way."
"Now, what exactly do you mean, 'she doesn't know I'm here'?"
"I feel there's not much room for interpretation there".
"You show up every day. How can she not know?"
"The thing is, Tamara," he said, "I don't, and haven't in a while."
"You mean you don't enter the office?"
"No, no", he said. "I mean I've been sitting at home."
The officer considered this gravely.
"You mean to say you're absent in service?"
"In December, I was an absent in service. By now, I'm well into defection territory."
"I'm sorry, but I just don't believe you."
"I thought you'd say so. But I ask you to take a good, hard look at me. Do you think I got a permit for my beard? Or that I haven't been caught without my rank yet? You've likely sent a mail with this appointment, did you?"
"We did, several times. You didn't respond."
"Does that seem reasonable to you that a Systems Administrator in air force headquarters has no access to a computer to respond to his emails?"
"Adir, it just can't be. I'm sorry, but I don't accept this"
"And I do? It's degrading. I've never been so humiliated in my life.
But let's go down to the Pit -- to where I'm supposedly stationed. You can see my Gatekeeper card get rejected, because it hasn't been in use for five months.
Let's go down there, and see if anyone recognizes me at all, commanders included -- no one's seen me with the beard. I didn't have it when I left! That's how long I've been gone. If so much as a private recognizes me, I'll withdraw and never bother you again.
All I ask is we come and take a look."
Tamara drew a tense, long breath.
"So what do you want, Adir?"
"I signed up. I did whatever they asked me to. I pulled through that vicious course. And as soon as I struggled, I was tossed away like hot garbage. They kept telling us, from the second we're drafted, how needed we are, but I guess that's not so.
I have my own goals in life. My time is precious. I - "
"And why is that? What exactly do you do that's superior to serving your country?"
"I stopped showing up, because -"
"Why did you, really? Why was so important?"
"Because I signed up for university!", Adir said, heatedly. "Because if I wouldn't get out of there instead of sitting like some kind of idiot, I would've rotted there and no one would have twitched.
I'm not needed? That's fine and dandy. We all gave it a shot. No hard feelings. But if that's the case, I want my life back. I want to wake up early in the morning, like I always used to. I want to be passionate about what I do. I want to feel loved, and respected. I'd like to do something worthwhile with my time."
"So aside from these grand statements - what exactly do you want?"
"I want out."
"Out?"
"Out. It's been half my service. Nothing is coming."
Tamara stood up, took out a small notebook from one of the desks drawers, strode up to Adir and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"It's a book," she said, "describing mental illnesses.
Pick one, or get out."
It hurt him to hear those words. He saw them coming, but it hurt all the same.
"What exactly am I supposed to do now? How long is this supposed to last?"
"Don't you dare threaten me", said the officer. "I'm not at all impressed"
"I wasn't threatening!"
"Sure you weren't".
Adir stood dumbstruck.
"Pick one, or get out."
He wanted to scream. He wanted to protest. He wanted to go on yet another righteous crusade.
Only this time, he drew a deep breath, and a resolution formed in his heart. A decision was made, and he will stick to it.
He got out.
***Chapter I -- *Security Service Candidate Adir Levin
Private Adir Levin was just shy of 19 years of age when he was drafted.
He'd had the privilege of knowing his date well in advance -- upwards of a year, which was almost unheard of. It had been six months since he graduated highschool, shortly after which he began working at a big city coffee shop with the declared aim of overcoming his social awkwardness.
Though hesitant and neurotic at first, Adir quickly grasped the nuances of working in the rush -- operating the register, sending out the orders, and even making recommendations and casually chatting with the customers. The youngest to ever work there, and rarely coming across anyone near his age, he seldom felt out of place. It was exhausting, physical work, and Adir worked fairly often - well after he felt his goal was achieved.
Two weeks before his draft date, though, even Adir put in the towel and went off to get a buzzcut and olive green T-shirts, like everyone else told him he should. Adir was never a confrontational character, so he did. He would recall this with potent irony a few months ahead, after being assigned to the air force, where olive green t-shirts were strictly forbidden, ridiculed and widely regarded as a sign of inferiority. But more on this ahead.
Adir sought, above all, a moderate life. A life of purpose, of achievement, sure -- but without tribulations, without drama. Without much conflict -- it's terribly upsetting. Generally speaking, Adir simply did not like having much on his plate. Hand him exactly one to three things going on in his life -- however big or difficult -- and he would cruise along gently being generally content. Any more than that, however, he would get intensely uncomfortable, hunker down, and his mind would get the better of him.
Though moderate and unassuming, Adir was not humble nor meek. He knew his ability and especially his unrelenting determination will get him wherever he should desire, so long as he should truly desire it enough.
If he succeeded, it was proof of his superior determination. Should he have failed, it was simply an indication that he did not really seek to achieve whatever it was he sought.
It was that blend of determination and non-confrontational, moderate policy that somehow led him to be a coursee in the Communication Corp's luxurious Computing Systems Infrastructure Management program. Widely considered to be one of the best occupations in the army (said that guy at the communication corps convention, who was an officer, Adir thought he could recall), CSIM candidates go through a grueling screening process. Those precious few successful (under 10%, the figure was rumored to be) later undergo extensive training at the Defense Forces Academy of Computer Professions and Cyberspace Defense, where Adir now found himself.
"What would you like to do in the military?" the Officer who is Not a Commander (why not? He remembers wondering) had asked him at early 16, when he was summoned to the Recruitment Center for the very first time.
"I don't really mind", he said.
"You probably heard of something. Know someone. What caught your interest?"
"I never really thought about it. I'm fine with whatever, really"
"Everyone comes by with such specific requests -- I've had someone tell me the exact squad he wanted to serve in today! You've never heard of anything?"
"What squad?"
"Huh?"
"What squad did he want to serve in?"
"364^th^, paratroopers. Do you know it?"
"No."
"So what do you want to do?"
Adir was lost in thought.
"Listen, this isn't about your stats. Look, let's pretend this is a perfect world -- you can pick absolutely whatever and I station you there immediately. What do you pick?"
"Well, I... Um, why do I have to pick? The army picks whatever it needs. Doesn't it?"
The ONC audibly tsked.
"Yeah, It does, sure, but it's not just a machine. It's in the military's best interest that you like your role as well -- makes you more productive. So it tries. For a bit."
"There's no need to try with me. I'll do whatever the country needs me to, really. I have no preference whatsoever."
"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah."
"What if they put you in a tank?"
"Then I guess I'll be in a tank."
"And what if you get stationed as a combat ready soldier on the frontline?"
"Then I'll go, of course."
"What if they ask you to be a pilot?"
"I really don't think they'll ask me to be a pilot."
"Yes, but what if they do?" she asked, somewhat irritated.
"Then I'll go be a pilot."
She sighed deeply, and massaged her temples. Adir could not figure out why she was so upset.
"Okay, let's talk about you for a bit. What do you like to do?"
Adir considered this.
"I like... playing the guitar."
"Would you say you're a good player?"
"I'm decent. Nothing staggering, though, it's just a hobby"
"How long have you been playing?"
"About five, six years now"
"And that's it? You play the guitar all day?"
"No, that would be a little crazy. I do other things."
"What other things?"
"I cook sometimes. I like reading a lot. I read a lot. Uh..."
The ONC considered this with blatant disinterest.
"I like computer games too."
"Computers?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I like computers."
"So you're a programmer?"
"Oh, no no no. I suck at programming. Absolutely terrible. I'm a hardware monkey."
"A what?"
"A hardware monkey."
"What on god's green earth is a hardware monkey?"
"Some people write the code for the computers, because they've got a developed realist side of the brain. And others, those who don't or just don't like coding, take care of the computers themselves. The code monkeys and the hardware monkeys."
"So you... what, take care of computers?"
"I assemble them. I built a good dozen by now. It's really interesting. I really like it."
"Sounds complicated. You'd need to be a, uh, realist for that, wouldn't you?"
"I don't have it. It's not hard. Like a big, weird Lego."
"But what if the army asks you to build computers?"
"Oh, they have that? I had no idea! That'd be swell!"
"They have that, sure, sure. I'll list that as your preference."
"Cool!".
The CNO hunched over a flowery pink notebook. Using a bright pink pen with a big pink fuzzy whatever on top, she scribbled in it with small, cursive handwriting.
He could just make it out -
Computers.
She then abruptly stood up and surveyed Adir quickly.
"Good luck," she said and left. That was surprising, because they were sitting in her office.
Now he was here.
The Computer Science School was nothing like he had envisioned a military base to be -- not that he had done much envisioning at all. Spring Buds, where he went through boot camp, had been* exactly* like what little he had envisioned -- it was stuck in the middle of nowhere, it was full of big, ugly green tents and ancient structures torn straight out of the 1920's. It had guard posts and lots of dirty empty space.
Above all it was generally repulsive.
It was so alike everything he had seen in old movies that, at times, Adir started wondering whether his experiences there really took place or was it just his vivid imagination.
This place, however, was a strange mix of that classic vision and a high-tech office space. Adir's classroom was in a structure that was clearly meant to be temporary. It was positioned in a big dusty patch of bare earth, thrown into it in a strange angle, only several paces from the army's convenience store. Their commander's offices, and the units stationed in the base, sat in a trio of rather small but quite modern buildings surrounding a paved cobblestone courtyard. It was very well kept and had lots of emblems and flags protruding from the upper floors, with a million passages to and from it -- as if it was the beating heart of the base, and the soldiers flowing into it its lifeblood.
The base was, however,* ridiculously* small -- Adir could circle it leisurely in just under eight minutes. Also unlike Spring Buds -- which was huge -- was the fact that it lay right in the middle of the city, perhaps a 15 minute bus ride from his house. The base was elevated from the street, which was a good 2-3 meters lower, surrounded by a tall barbed wire fence covered with thick opaque fabric to keep prying eyes away. It resembled, perhaps, an overly protective neighborhood school much more than a full blown, top secret army base.
Yet an army base it was, and the bastards would not let Adir soon forget it. He and his peers may have waltzed in from the city each morning, sure, but after coming in through the old-school guard post, it was army alright.
Chapter II -- Rookie Adir Levin
It wasn't a direct transition to the Academy. However glamorous Adir's station, he and those whom he would later study with must of course go through the standard ordeal of having their souls crushed by the army, so that the pulp can be remodeled.
There are many special facilities to do so, and Adir had had the great privilege of enjoying one of the oldest and finest of them -- the Spring Buds Rookie base, in the desert 15km off the border.
Adir adapted quickly, but it was a forced, animal adaptation, and he often didn't quite register what exactly was happening - and least of all why. He did figure it out at some point, which he remembers especially well.
It was a fiercely cold night -- a cold Adir had yet to know, nonchalantly seeping into your bones and joints and draining you. Sharp, slanted rain smashed bitterly against the hard, worn fabric of the tent. Adir, in his arrogance had hardly come prepared and was shivering peacefully in his team's tent.
Everyone else was getting ready to sleep, and Adir knew he had no point trying to rest himself before they all arrive and sat in idle misery, which rapidly became a familiar pastime of his. He so enjoyed it that he always hurried off and got ready much faster than everyone in order to really take it all in.
His usual solitude was broken this time by Regev. Regev was a fascinating person -- he was quiet, but not of shyness like himself -- but of silent, poigant sarcasm. Under the right circumstances, Regev could stun the entire brigade with a few words of wisdom, uttered clearly and without hesitations, unsullied by so much as a twitch of facial muscles to convey his deep and rich misgivings. The commanders despised him - even their own team's unengaged, apathic commanders coming to real fury with him. Naturally, the soldiers greatly admired him as a result.
Adir was greatly in awe as well and so avoided him with great determination, and the extremely passive Regev made no real note of it. This time, however, as he slumped on his sleeping bag, he immediately turned to Adir.
'You mark my words, Adir', he told him with his clear, ringing voice utterly devoid of emotion. 'Within three months or less, I will be a civilian'.
Now, many proud fools make similar claims -- and Spring Buds is ripe ground for it. They come like flies to the mush of rotting vegetables behind the dining hall, and the military swats them accordingly.
Adir had already heard dozens (that day!) make similar claims - but from a person such as Regev, however, it was worthy of consideration.
"...But, we've only been here a week!" he squeaked back.
"A week too long, and I will not stand many more like it. I have made up my mind."
Even in the dark, Adir could see Regev's severe face looking him straight in the eyes.
"You mark my words -- should I still be in uniform 90 days from now, I am a stupid, spineless whoreson."
"I mean, you could give it a try, sure, but 90 days - "
"A stupid, spineless whoreson."
Adir let that sink for a bit in his feeble faculties.
"What will you do outside?" he prompted eventually.
"Whatever the hell I want", Regev shot back quickly.
Adir was shaken to his core.
"Should I still be your coursemate in 90 days," Adir replied respectfully after a time, "I will put you in your place as the stupid, spineless whoreson you are"
Regev smiled widely, the first time Adir had ever seen him do so. "That's all I wanted to hear," he said, and quickly rolled up and fell asleep.
The next month or so was supremely strange. Adir found himself woken up to a starry sky by hail smacking his face, or running for shelter from hostile mortars (which were 'thunder', according to Adir's commander, 'But what does thunder have anything to do with it?' He asked her, stunned - 'None of your business, soldier' she'd replied), rolling over the sand dunes simulating combat ('It was great, but when you rolled just now, you were completely exposed, and you would've been shot, and killed', she'd told him then, 'but great otherwise'), and shooting on the range twice on each round ('I've never seen anyone without a dominant shooting hand in my life', the stunned Company Commander had said, 'Do it all over again until you figure it out'), and even going up on guard duty for thirty minutes at the middle of the night ('You have to get used to it,' said their Commander, to which Regev replied 'I won't, but you do you' and lost a weekend at home), and many other bizarre scenarios, forced on him at random, the consequences of which often registered many days later.
Throughout all that madness, Regev's words rang often in Adir's fragile psyche.
"What will you do?"
"Whatever the hell I want".