Growing up in the Spartan Division
When I was chosen for the Spartans, I felt honoured. Growing up in Toronto, the Spartans are spoken about as if they’re gods. They have this awe about them, as they represent the pinnacle of human biologic achievement and saviours of humanity. When they walk around the city, it’s impossible not to notice them. No one knows the extent of the augmentations they receive, but when seen in person they tower above the crowd. They stand on average 7 ft tall and appear as if they have the strength of 3 adults. Also contributing to their god-like persona is the fact that they walk around in these full-body suits that were designed specifically for the Spartans. The suits encompass every inch of their body are designed to operate in outer space. As a member of the ranks, I now know that the average human could not wear these suits. They were built to enhance the Spartans reflexes and amplify their strength. If someone wears the suit that did not receive the Spartan augmentations their bones would shatter under the force of the movement assistance.
At the age of 6 I was chosen to become a Spartan; I was taken away from my family who were members of the Cultivators. I was always good at sports, I was a faster runner, stronger and smarter than the kids in my class. I always wanted to be a Spartan, but as much as the Spartans are spoken about, I was never truly prepared for what was to come. When I arrived at the Spartan training compound I was seated in a large auditorium with my fellow recruits. A giant of a man walked in and stood at the podium. He congratulated us for making the cut and did not sugar coat the fact that the next years of our life will be grueling and will test us both mentally and physically. Once the man finished speaking, we were escorted to our sleeping barracks by our handlers. The handlers operate as our personal trainers and tutors. They are older cadets in the Spartan program that have not yet undergone augmentation.
After being escorted to the Barracks we were stripped of our clothes that linked us to our previous lives in another Division. I remember kids crying missing their families and shaking in fear; no sympathy was given by the handlers the first taste of life in the Spartans.
The next day was the start of the rest of our lives. The man who spoke at the podium, Capt. Patters, and our handlers rushed us out of bed and into our training sweats at the break of dawn. We started with an hour session of intense calisthenics. I remember feeling like my body was breaking, but I didn’t want to quit, as Capt. Patters would take lunch privileges away from anyone who quit early. After this we went for a short 10 km jog around the training compound. If the calisthenics did not break any will power you had to continue, this run did. Following the morning exercise routine was a short break where we would eat breakfast and catch our breath. We would then have your more typical education where we would be instructed in mathematics, science, and military tactics. The handlers would typically leave us at the point as they had their own sessions to attend to. However, there were occasions that they would return to help any child who was lagging behind in their formal education. After class we would have “playground” time. But this was not your average playground with monkey-bars and swings. These playgrounds constantly changed depending on the learning intent of Cpt. Patters, but essentially, they were massive obstacle courses. It was during these “playground” sessions, that the Spartans learned how to work as a group and become cohesive unit operating like cogs in a machine. If the calisthenics were hard, these sessions were impossible. Capt. Patters designed the sessions with a seemingly impossible solution. These sessions were meant to train the Spartans against an enemy that has an unfair advantage and reinforce the idea that we need to work as a unit to achieve victory. The sessions were typically designed to reinforce a military tactic that we would have learned prior in the classroom session.
Once I reached 16, I underwent the augmentation process. My reflexes, eyesight, muscular strength, and bone density were all enhanced. I am writing this reflection while lying in bed recovering from the procedure. Next week I get fitted for my personal bodysuit and get to rejoin my fellow recruits.