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110
The Quest For
Freedom
Antiseptic assailed me with its piercing stench as I looked around
the circular building. Blinding white walls and metallic floors made
up the structure. The quiet hum of voices and footsteps were the
only sounds heard. I joined a line and waited. I spat into the dish, my
aim had improved. ‘Aelius’ came up on the screen and relief washed
over me.
A screen appears in front of me, displaying the route I would take
to get to South Korea for a ‘meeting’ that would evolve into a war.
The plan was for me to argue with the South Korean Leaders to join
our defence force: we were asking for a war with South Korea on a
silver platter. This was the moment I had waited my whole life for –
everything I had worked for was about to be put into play. I had to
hide my smile. Tonight would be the night.
I looked up at the stars that night from the middle of the
Government Centre as I waited for the train. The sky was clear and
promising. The wind whistled throughout the Centre and froze my
skin through my coat. My mind was buzzing with thoughts faster
than the speed of the train throughout the night sky. I couldn’t
control them and separate the doubts from the fears. My watch
signalled midnight when the train finally stopped. Now was my
chance. I deviated from the route I was given.
I stepped out hesitantly, then ran as fast as I could to the light on
the horizon. I couldn’t see what I was stepping on but it was uneven
and hard to grip – the only light was the one ahead and the stars.
Drawing nearer to the light, I could now see people waiting there for
me. I don’t know how long the last two hundred metres took me to
run but it felt like hours. When I finally reached them, I didn’t speak.
I was strangled by the smell of home cooking and eternal love.
Women, men and children filled the small square surrounded by
old buildings. Their faces were afraid but I knew I was more scared
than them. We piled into a small cart, about fifty people in a five by
five metre space. The cart rattled along as the sun began to appear,
warning us that time was scarce. Not one whisper. No movement.
The smell of sweat lingered.
We had arrived at the water’s edge when I knew I had been
discovered. I had not had a shower in twelve hours. I was Camilla
Mirai, a thin, short woman who never spoke. The driver cocked the
cart into gear and it became the boat that would lead the others, but
not me, to safety. Men, women and children climbed into the boat as
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