Salah walked in the recruitmen centre. He walked with an easy, casual air about him, but deep inside, he feared the result of what he was about to do. Being refused meant he and his family would've kept living in misery, a misery which would've been at least attenuated by the wage he would've received as a pilot for the People's Navy. On the other hand, being accepted meant that, from now on, he had to risk his life every day for a "motherland" that barely represented him. Still, in that moment, he had no choice. He couldn't turn back, he could only keep walking and do what he was supposed to do. His chances for choice were no more the moment he asked for admission at the naval academy...seven years ago. Now he had to make sure those seven years weren't an absolute waste of time.
Keeping the farce of safety and certainty, he kept walking. He approached a guy with a power armour, he showed him a flier and he said:
"Comrade Salah Husaini reporting. I'd like to enter the People's Navy. Who should I ask?".
