XXVI

The war goes like this: the marching of mechanical feet, the rumble of battle tanks, the sound of fighter jets zooming above their heads, the strained screams of machines and humans — this is the future, it is happening now.

Yongsun is in the infirmary fiddling with the new hologram-pad that she has been given to write reports on. The hologram-pad (or ‘H-PA test 1’ they call it) is like a small scroll that one has to pull out to use, but instead of paper there is a transparent screen. Yongsun writes on it slowly, cursing when she accidentally presses the wrong symbol.

She is not the only one struggling to use the new technology, the blonde doctor has gone through three hologram-pads already, swearing (Scheiße!) in her mother language as she tosses another one into a crate of used electronics. Yongsun throws her hologram to the side with a huff, deciding to write the report by hand.

There is a loud ripple across the sky, a sound like thunder. Yongsun stares up at the tent ceiling, dropping her pencil. Her superior, the blonde doctor, frowns, chewing on her lip as she violently pushes the tent flaps open. A bright light flashes before them making them both squint, the doctor backs away from the opening, she turns, hands shielding her eyes. A warning cry reaches Yongsun: «Get down!» and she dives to the ground, covering her ears.