Colloquium || Task #1 || Closed
September 15th, 2535 - Interview Room.
Elianna counted the minutes it took for her to make her way from the mess hall to the interview room in her head. She left the mess hall at 0550 exactly. Five plus five equal ten. One plus zero equals one. Check. The perfect number. it was a three minute’s walk to her destination - one hundred and eighty seconds exactly. One plus eight plus zero equals nine. Nine divided by three digits is three. Check. The doors slid open to reveal a plain room as usual with a metal stool in the middle of the area. Orlin was already present, as he had always been in her previous years, so Eli took that as her cue to sit. By default, her legs were too short to reach the floor, so she rested her feet on one of the rungs, keeping her back straight and hands in her lap. "Welcome, Cadet. Your interview will now commence, and you will be recorded for future reference." She interjected before she could continue, maintaining a steady tone, “It’s 0555 - just for future reference.” The brief pause that followed was either Orlin adding a timestamp to her interview or just the usual lapse in speech. He continued without much of an acknowledgment or comment, "Yes, it is, Cadet. Now, what is your name, and how old are you?"
Eli straightened - as if to sit up higher was even possible for her - and recited, since she had spent years rehearsing such an introduction speech for the last three or so similar interviews, “I was born Elianna Irene Latimer on September 4th of the year 2503. My 20th birthday was a little less than two weeks ago.” Her mother had picked out both of her names without any contribution from her father: Elianna, which meant “sun” (she thought that was completely and utterly wrong to be used in describing her), and Irene, which meant “peace” and was derived from the Greek goddess of peace (which was absurdly ironic… since she planned to join the war against the Innies and all). Her whole name didn’t fit her, except for maybe the surname. Maybe she’d change it when she got older. “I prefer to be called Eli,” she added as an afterthought, “If that’s any bit significant.” Orlin processed the information then pressed on, his expression never changing. That was perfectly fine; she was here for an interview, not a friendly conversation. "Where are you from?" That was a question Eli dreaded, and she had completely frozen for five minutes in her first year, back when she was sixteen and unfamiliar with Corbulo. She knew a lot of the other cadets grew up on war-torn worlds, but her situation was different (or, at least, different from most people she knew). Her part in the war started before she was even born, and the pavement underneath her feet had already been littered with tragedy. “I was born on Levosia of the 26th Draconis system.” Plain and simple - she even left out the city name because she had spent years shoving the name out of her mind. It was unimportant to her, now. So far, so good. It was just an interview.
"What was your home life like?" The question still took her so off-guard; a pang shot through her chest, and the words got stuck in her throat. Eli felt the urge to cry rise up inside of her, and she hastily shut it down before she ended up breaking down on record. What an embarrassment that would be for her to show weakness like that. Nevertheless, she was forced toe rub at her eyes, wiping away any unshed tears. "Cadet, would you like for me to repeat the question?" Immediately, Eli snapped to attention, dropping her hands back into her lap, “No, Orlin, that won’t be necessary.” The AI gazed at her, expectantly, waiting for an answer. She got a bit more comfortable in her seat before giving an elaborate response. “My parents are Icarus and Priscilla Latimer. My father was - is - an Insurrectionist. He began with peaceful protests, initially, then evolved to civil disobedience. Nine years before I was born, he participated in the Callisto Incident. On the side of the insurgents, of course. He managed to keep what he was doing - who he was hurting - a secret, I suppose. For a very long time. When my mother found out, a little while after I was born, she was downright narked. She divorced him and took custody of me.” She sighed, maintaining as much control of her voice as she could. Eli recited her history to herself many times when she had free thinking time alone. Besides her service records and such, nobody knew her full background. She gave other cadets what she wanted them to know - no more, no less.
"You might have recognized my mum from the military when I said her name - Chief Master Sergeant Priscilla Latimer of the UNSC Air Force. She wasn’t home much to begin with, but after the divorce, she just disappeared." Eli knew why, even if interpreting emotions wasn’t her strongest point - or even a strong point. Clearly, her mum felt betrayed and was reeling from the divorce. It didn’t bother Eli as much as she wanted it to - at least, the fact that her mum wasn’t around for her first couple of years didn’t. The fact that her mum wasn’t around for her adolescence did, in fact, stick her in a rotten mood. “My uncle on my father’s side - Cornell - brought me up and cared for me. He treated me right, didn’t let me get too out of hand or else he’d box my ears. Life was- life was okay, I guess. Kids used to send me up a lot when I was younger when they knew that my dad was an Innie. I eventually just shook it off and learned to turn a blind eye to them.” She shrugged, “I was an introverted kid, didn’t chat with people much. Kept to myself.” Over the close to four years she had been at Corbulo, Eli had given a whole gamut of answers. Every annual interview had a different record, a different response. If an official were to review her records, they would see that her emotional response shifted as well. Over time, she had reined in her emotions after almost failing to complete the interview in her first year. Her second year was an inch of improvement. Her third year was far better than her first. It seemed as if her fourth time around only pulled maybe a few tears from her repressed emotions - somewhat progress but not perfect enough.
Orlin took a minute to record her response then continued; Eli waited patiently for the questions that she knew would come. "Why did you choose Corbulo Academy?" She stared at him, still partially in awe about why this question was even asked every year. Why did anyone ever choose Corbulo? “I didn’t. My mom did for me. I’m glad she did, honestly. I needed this - a place away from home.” The next question was, in her opinion, quite daft and useless. "Do you believe you belong here?" Eli sighed, “Yes, of course. I would have strolled out the door first year if I hadn’t.”
She braced herself for the next question - the terrible one. The one that made her shake and shiver and tremble to her core. Eli hated that question the most because, while she had similar answers to most of the cadets, she still always hesitated. That was weakness, imperfection, a flaw. "What do you think of the Insurrectionists?" Her stomach dropped, her throat seized up, and her right leg began uncharacteristically shaking up and down, rattling the stool. Sweat settled underneath her uniform, sticking to her skin. Fuck, fuck, bloody fucking hell. “I, um, they’re causing a ruckus. They’re hurting people, killing innocents in nothing but the name of collateral damage.” Forcing out a breath between her gritted teeth, Eli hissed, “They’re ruining lives.” Her life. Her father was hurting her, killing her, and destroying everything she had. He already had.
"Orlin," she stopped the AI right before he was about to ask the last question, "Pause for a moment on the recording- please?" Orlin closed his mouth and stared at her, waiting patiently; Eli felt a bit like a twit for lashing out at the AI, but that question, as always, got her riled up. She shut her eyes and breathed, like her mum had told her to before when she was younger. When she wanted to cry and kids were messing with her, but she hadn’t wanted to show weakness. One breath in, one breath out. Ten seconds of counting if that didn’t help. One, two, three, four, five- Her state of calm returned before she even hit ten, and Eli straightened once again, shaking off her discomfort with a casual roll of her shoulders. “Resume, Orlin.”
"What do you hope for in ten year’s time?" Orlin quickly slid back into the process of interviewing her, leaving little room for a smooth transition. Eli struggled to form the words, her brain still racing to recover from being jarred. “What- what do I hope for? I hope for this war to be over by then, of course. I hope that, by that time, I’ll be a Major among the ranks of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers.” She left no room in her response for a future outside of combat, outside of a professional, military-only view. No personal considerations - they weren’t worthy of her time. “Are we done here?” Orlin nodded and gave her a simple thank you, and she let out an exhausted sigh, standing up so abruptly that she knocked over the stool. “Sorry.” She quickly yanked it back up and placed it on the ground properly. Her footsteps, heavy and dragging, echoed around the room as she trudged off to her dorm.
