ECE Training

ECE decided its graduates lacked real combat skills. After all, in this new age of conflict and warfare, ECE people just won't survive. So they designed a new training program that all graduates must pass to retain their diploma.

So this July morning, I lined up to sign in. I was agitated as I looked at my iron ring. I mused at the ring, "What length have I gone to keep you?" I shook my head but I couldn't see the head of the line.

My attention quickly strayed to the hovercraft that was being unveiled. It was colorful, but rickety looking. A senior lab technician announced that they were looking for volunteers to test the craft. A young Asian girl raised her hand eagerly. The sun was in my eyes, so I couldn't see her face. Her figure seemed familiar though. Even as she rushed over, her bubbly voice claimed aloud that she knew how to pilot it. Something about having played a game like it once. In my mind, I named her Bubbles.

I turned again to look at the unmoving line. My attention span was very much tested though I was only in line for maybe 3 or 4 minutes. I looked at the hovercraft and figured fighting from a hovercraft is at least cleaner than fighting on the frontline. So I raised my hand as I marched over. The technician (whom I always called White because of his hair) smiled as he saw my face, and indicated that I was welcome. As I got to the other side of the craft, I saw the girl who volunteered to be the pilot. My heart sank.

There is nothing wrong with her, I reminded myself. She is just younger. Much too young to take on this kind of responsibility, especially considering the craft was armed with various weapons. I wonder if her game required her to fire weapons. I shivered at the thought.

White explained that he was going to be the front passenger, because Bubbles was too young to pilot unsupervised. He would be marking a series of technical aspects of the ride. I on the other hand was given the task of identifying the safest route, provide emergency help, etc. I wonder if I was required at all.

We took off soon after. It wasn't bad as Bubbles piloted the new craft. She certainly was a natural. Surprisingly, all the controls were physical buttons, and looked totally analog. Most of the buttons were white and unlabelled. I wonder what Jordanna would say to this user interface.

Soon, White told Bubbles to leave the cleared airspace above the school. We joined the many layer and lanes of the real hovercraft traffic. I directed Bubbles to join the slow lane of first level. I looked at the list of things that White needed to evaluated and tried to figure out the optimal path that would evaluate everything. Unfortunately, before I had the chance to issue another direction, Bubbles took us one level higher. The craft behind us had to air-skid to prevent a collision.

"Hey, that was dangerous!" I exclaimed.

Bubbles didn't hear me in all her excitement. The lab tech shook his head, but didn't bother backing my statement. Bubbles made several other showy maneuvers. Each time she barely avoided the accidents. I was not impressed. For one thing, I was getting motion sickness. The lab tech looked back at me in silent agreement. I wondered why he didn't just tell her to stop.

At the seventh level and mid speed lane, Bubbles tried to insert into the eighth level's fast lane. Failing to account for the required increase in speed may be beyond the capability of the experimental craft. We would have crashed, except she did a dive and went to the seventh level's fast speed. Unfortunately that lane was busy too, so she shifted over. Since in each instance, the moves were not planned out, she had to keep changing lanes and levels.

I must admit her reflexes were good, but it was terrifying to ride through it. She was getting frustrated with all the lanes, so she suddenly took the craft on a steady incline. We shot up into the sky, passing various levels in a flash, and before I knew it, we were hitting clouds.

In the back of my mind, an alarm lit. Hovercrafts worked on the basis that there is something underneath to hover over. As we went into higher and less dense atmosphere, we will simply hit a point where there isn't enough substance beneath us to sustain the craft. And just as I thought this far, the craft began to dive.

I was terrified, as was White. He had been dumbfounded since Bubbles set us on this rollercoaster ride. He was so shaken that he couldn't utter the word to eject. I looked over at Bubbles. Our increasing speed distorted her facial expression and I couldn't be sure if she actually enjoyed this disaster. That was probably the last thought before I fainted.

When I woke up, I was lying in the First Aid tent. I recognized some of the faces being classmates who volunteered to be nurses. One of them finally came over and sat down beside me. A pitying look on her face confused me.

She said, "So, do you feel up to it?"

"Up to what?" I asked.

She looked surprised, "The inquiry of course."

I thought about her confusing words as I got dressed and checked that I was still in one piece. As I walked out of the tent, I went to the field where the hovercraft had taken off. I noticed a few faculty members mumbling together. I couldn't see White or Bubbles. I hoped they were alright. When they saw me, their face was rather hostile. I figure once I explained, it would be ok. "Sir," I directed at a senior faculty member, "I was wondering if the other two survived?"

"Ah, yes." He said, "Look, before you ask any more questions, would you please give us your statement as to what happened?"

I wasn't surprised at the request. I honestly recounted the ride. While I criticized Bubble's foolish behavior, I did repeatedly assert that Bubble is a great pilot if a bit irresponsible. The mood among my audience didn't change. I wonder if I was too harsh, but before I had a chance to finish, they cut me off.

One of the men in suits spoke, "Look. There is no reason for you to pretend. We know you were responsible for giving the pilot directions. Just admit you didn't know what you were doing and made a mistake. Thankfully, her quick reaction saved all of you."

I was stunned. I said, "No, that's not what happened. She began making lane changes without my input. Well the lab technician can back me up." I went on, but it was clear no one believed me.

Finally, one of the familiar faces spoke up, "The pilot's story is corroborated by the other passenger. They both claimed that it was your mistake that began the series of events." His face was difficult to read. It seemed like he didn't entirely believe that story, but he wasn't going to state that openly.

I tried again, "Well, even if I gave a bad instruction, there would be no reason why we would fly into upper atmosphere. That is not good …"

Again, one of the men in suits spoke, "I don't want to hear this anymore. We know what happened, and you are dismissed."

I suddenly realized that by dismissed, it meant I had to return my ring and diploma. I spoke again to the familiar faculty member, "Well, what am I to do now?"

He said, "You can always trying to enlist with the platoons. I hear that they still need people."

I didn't argue, and I went back to the line for general sign up.

I got into a platoon without any problem. It was lead by a very hyper guy that seemed to think it was all a game. Maybe it was a game, but the diving craft incident brought me close enough to death. Thinking back, I figure White had to agree with Bubbles, because if he sided with me, then he would be criticized for not stopping her in time.

Our captain explained the rules and his elaborate plan. A group of hostages are being kept in the old buildings on CIF. Three teams were being assigned to rescue them. We are supposed to coordinate overnight, plan out a strategy, and execute around dawn. But our captain unrolled a different plan. He said that the assigned strategy is probably what our enemy expects, and he wanted our group to surprise them instead. However, to preserve the surprise, we are not going to coordinate with the other group at all. He promised that our team would be more than sufficient to accomplish the task, and that we would be handsomely rewarded for this pro-active action. I was rather doubtful. My experience earlier that day left me in a glum mood and I wasn't able to mesh with the rest of them.

Finally, a friendly voice came from Jordanna. She said, "Hey, I thought that was you sitting with your head bowed like that."

I was glad for the friendly chat that ensued. We talked about thing before this silly training and how eager we were for its conclusion. She said something about hiring cartoon figures like Winnie the Pooh to fight for us, because they were probably in better shape. We laughed at ourselves and it felt good.

When the sun began to set, I took a solitary walk around the secured perimeter. I noticed that one of the teams was lead by Myles. Why am I not surprised? His team had spent the afternoon building barrages a distance away from the house. I guess just outside of firing range. Several members were hiding behind the barrage looking intently at the enemy's house. I wonder what they were looking for, but my thoughts quickly turned to other things.

As I reached the train tracks, I can barely make out shapes moving among the trees across the street. The third team. They must have circled around the house and was hiding in the forest. I couldn't tell who was on that team, for one thing they had themselves covered from head to toe in black, except for their eyes. They are certainly taking a risk being outside of the secured zone.

When I returned to my team, I found that my team was all dressed to attack. Even Jordanna was in camouflage-wear. I thought it was silly because we were not in a forest. Green and brown patches would stand out very well on top of the gray pavement.

I said to Jordanna, "When are we moving out? Do we know where in the house the hostages are held?"

"Nope. Captain says we will storm the place at midnight."

"Wait, you mean we don't know anything."

She shrugged, "When do we ever know anything before taking action?"

"Well taking on a project without knowledge is rather different from fighting a war." I mumbled, but I knew I was wasting my time. It was time to get into gears myself. I definitely don't look good in army gear. My curves were all lost in the baggy clothes made from rough canvas.

Awhile before midnight, the team began trading cell phone number as part of communication preparation. The idea being we will all spread out and search for the hostages and tell each other if we hit problems. Come to think of it, it's the approach taken by dumb agents in a distributed artificial intelligent multi-agent system. Engineering does take root after 5 years.

I was near the tail end as my team raced across the street and the parking lot. It was extremely quiet as we approached the house. I wonder if it was a decoy, or maybe this was one of those silly futile exercises. I thought from the forest near the train tracks, I heard someone yell, "Get back you idiots." But surely that team wouldn't risk exposing themselves by saying that.

I think I was second last to arrive on the front porch. I know the team as broken into smaller teams, quite randomly, and many were looking for alternative entrances. The captain kicked the front door open and we filed into the old farm house. It was mostly built with wood that is now rotting. In hindsight, some of us should have stayed outside, but instead we thought strength in numbers was the key.

I was frightened by a mirror near the entrance, and that was how I fell even further behind. As I shook off my fear and began to race after other people, I heard a loud cracking sound. I looked up to see the beam above me crashing down and the people that had gone to investigate upstairs fell with the floor. I raised my hand to protect my head. I wonder why I didn't run out of the way. But the beam hit my arm pretty hard.

I looked around. All of the ones searching upstairs were wounded by their fall. It seemed that the wooden planks that makes up the floor were mechanically raised perpendicular to the floor as the people fell. The ends of the planks were sharpened into stakes. It scared me to see that two of the people were pierced through their guts. They were dying in agony.

I couldn't keep looking at that, and I blindly ran towards the back of the house. I must have stepped on some rigged mechanism, and it caught my feet. I looked down, but it was too dark to see, and as I look up for a light switch, I saw the painting on the wall begin to fall towards me. The 3D artwork had protruding paint spikes. I ducked but even then, it cracked my helmet and torn the sleeve off of my shoulder. I wasn't sure if the glint on those spikes was varnish or my blood.

I was still trapped, but I noticed that the floor ahead of me had caved just as the upper floor had. I looked down to see Jordanna's lifeless face looking back at me. I screamed. I don't remember anything beyond that.

When I woke up again, I can barely see the light of dawn. I was laid on the grass a couple of feet beyond the barrages. There were many more unconscious bodies laying around me. They were all bloody, and suddenly the horrifying though of the 3 people I knew were dead came back in a flash.

I couldn't believe this training was so real, that people can die through training. Where are the safety protocols?! Why didn't the faculty care that some of these people will actually die?! I looked over to see Myles' team still studying the house intently. Some of them seemed to have weapons aimed towards the house. Every so often, they made this funny whistling sound, and they would open a part of the barrage and let the people through. I recognized these people as being on the third team, from their ninja-like outfit. They were always carrying bodies, people who are unconscious or too wounded to move. I didn't know there were so many of us in there. I wonder how many died?

I was so mad. Mad at this charade that was causing real lives. Did it matter that we have the diploma and the ring? I mean they certainly are not worthy of my life. Surprisingly, I found I could get up and walk shakily. I found the tent where the faculty was observing this part of the training.

To the very first faculty member I found, I said, "Stop it! People are dying. Stop these exercises."

The professor was surprised at my outcry. He said, "You should return to your training if you want to pass."

I was so angry, and I think I made a big fuss. No one cared though. After all I had "caused" the destruction of a hover craft and I was a member of the team that rushed into combat without information. No one would listen to me.

I stomped away, and as I crossed ring road, I wonder if there was an external enemy at all. Probably not. If there were, I wouldn't mind joining them right now. They can't possibly be less caring than the side I was already on.

I felt a tall shadow fall into steps with me. It was Myles. He was trying to convince me not to leave the training. He said that I just didn't know how to fight the war, that if I mastered it, I would come to enjoy it. Even suggested that I join their team and observe their tactics. I was too tired to argue. My thoughts were on other things. I wonder which of the masked people carried me back. I wish I can say think you.