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AMTO
‘Mum! Dad!’, Phillip shouted. He closed the door behind him, strode to the kitchen, smashed his satchel on the table, scraped a chair back and sat on it, waiting.
He heard steps coming down the stairs, and Mum showed up at the kitchen’s threshold. ‘What is it honey?’ she asked.
Phillip unfastened the front pocket of his satchel and fished out a greenish slip he handed over to Mum. She unfolded it and read the few lines. Her eyes widened.
‘Does… Does it mean…’ she stuttered.
’Yes,’ Phillip answered. He stood up, walked to the fridge and helped himself to a glass of milk.
‘DARLING!’ Mum yelled.
‘What is it?’ Dad’s muffled voice came from the basement.
‘Phillip has been picked up for AMTO level B!’
‘What? Are you kidding?’
There was a sound of metal dropping on the floor below, followed by heavy steps up the basement stairs. The door flung open and Dad stormed into the kitchen. ‘He’s been picked up for AMTO?’ he asked in his gruff voice.
Mum handed the slip over to him. He skimmed through it. ‘This makes no sense,’ Dad said. He flung the paper on the table. ‘He’s only 14. AMTO starts at 16 at the earliest.’
‘The principal said she would ask for a derogation,’ Phillip said.
‘She has no idea what that means!’ Dad growled. ‘It’s not happening. No way my son ends up on a battle field at 16.’
Phillip’s supplicant eyes locked on her mother’s.
‘Darling,’ she said turning towards her husband. ‘It’s a unique opportunity—’
‘Unique opportunity my arse!’ Dad almost yelped. ‘Did you ever look into the AMTO programme?’ He pointed a trembling finger to Phillip. ‘Do you see him wielding a heavy machine gun? Or a bazooka?’
‘I’m not gonna do this!’ Phillip protested.
‘Of course you will! If they told you otherwise then it’s bullshit!’
‘No,’ Phillip continued. ‘I’m selected for the unmanned aerial piloting section. I’ll be flying drones!’
Dad’s pointing arm went limp and flopped at his side. ‘I don’t know what to say…’ he whispered.
‘Darling,’ Mum said, ‘I know of your hatred for the military, and God knows I have always supported you, even when it meant losing my position in the ministry and most of my friends. But… I can’t allow you to jeopardise his future. This’ — she showed the paper lying on the table — ‘is the key to the brightest carrier we could imagine. He could end up—’
‘I know, I know where he could end up,’ Dad interrupted. He sighed. ‘But you won’t make me think it’s right. They ought to teach the boys how to live, not how to kill or how to die.’
‘It’s been like that for generations over here,’ Mum remarked. ‘It won’t change overnight. Survival of the fittest has always been our society’s motto, as far as I know. Vae victis.’
‘Sometimes I think we should move. Go to another city where they do not worship warfare like we do. I heard that in Athens they have an excellent school of philosophy and—’
‘And lose our citizenship status in the process?’ Mum snapped. ‘Do you know how they treat foreigners in Athens? No? Almost like slaves. Do you want to live in a slum with no water, no power and no school for Phillip? Does that sound fun to you?’ She paced around the room. ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘philosophy is great, but it won’t protect you from the barbarians out there!’
Dad bit his lips. ‘But we’ve been at peace for decades now…’
‘Exactly’, Mum said. ‘But only because they know we outwit and outgun them. Change that policy, and we’re done for. Si vis pacem…’
‘Para bellum,’ Dad concluded. ‘I know. Yet. I can’t accept that everything in this city is just about war, weapons and survival. It seems to me that—’
‘Look Dad,’ Phillip said. ‘Not all drones are weapons. Some are just out there to spy and observe. If you’re so adamant about me not killing anyone, I can request to be appointed to the intelligence team.’
‘Can you really do that?’ Dad asked. ‘Will they comply?’
‘Probably,’ Phillip replied. ‘I heard they need pilots in that division. Few people apply for this sort of low-key jobs.’
Dad sighed again. ‘Okay, then. Where do we sign?’
He heard steps coming down the stairs, and Mum showed up at the kitchen’s threshold. ‘What is it honey?’ she asked.
Phillip unfastened the front pocket of his satchel and fished out a greenish slip he handed over to Mum. She unfolded it and read the few lines. Her eyes widened.
‘Does… Does it mean…’ she stuttered.
’Yes,’ Phillip answered. He stood up, walked to the fridge and helped himself to a glass of milk.
‘DARLING!’ Mum yelled.
‘What is it?’ Dad’s muffled voice came from the basement.
‘Phillip has been picked up for AMTO level B!’
‘What? Are you kidding?’
There was a sound of metal dropping on the floor below, followed by heavy steps up the basement stairs. The door flung open and Dad stormed into the kitchen. ‘He’s been picked up for AMTO?’ he asked in his gruff voice.
Mum handed the slip over to him. He skimmed through it. ‘This makes no sense,’ Dad said. He flung the paper on the table. ‘He’s only 14. AMTO starts at 16 at the earliest.’
‘The principal said she would ask for a derogation,’ Phillip said.
‘She has no idea what that means!’ Dad growled. ‘It’s not happening. No way my son ends up on a battle field at 16.’
Phillip’s supplicant eyes locked on her mother’s.
‘Darling,’ she said turning towards her husband. ‘It’s a unique opportunity—’
‘Unique opportunity my arse!’ Dad almost yelped. ‘Did you ever look into the AMTO programme?’ He pointed a trembling finger to Phillip. ‘Do you see him wielding a heavy machine gun? Or a bazooka?’
‘I’m not gonna do this!’ Phillip protested.
‘Of course you will! If they told you otherwise then it’s bullshit!’
‘No,’ Phillip continued. ‘I’m selected for the unmanned aerial piloting section. I’ll be flying drones!’
Dad’s pointing arm went limp and flopped at his side. ‘I don’t know what to say…’ he whispered.
‘Darling,’ Mum said, ‘I know of your hatred for the military, and God knows I have always supported you, even when it meant losing my position in the ministry and most of my friends. But… I can’t allow you to jeopardise his future. This’ — she showed the paper lying on the table — ‘is the key to the brightest carrier we could imagine. He could end up—’
‘I know, I know where he could end up,’ Dad interrupted. He sighed. ‘But you won’t make me think it’s right. They ought to teach the boys how to live, not how to kill or how to die.’
‘It’s been like that for generations over here,’ Mum remarked. ‘It won’t change overnight. Survival of the fittest has always been our society’s motto, as far as I know. Vae victis.’
‘Sometimes I think we should move. Go to another city where they do not worship warfare like we do. I heard that in Athens they have an excellent school of philosophy and—’
‘And lose our citizenship status in the process?’ Mum snapped. ‘Do you know how they treat foreigners in Athens? No? Almost like slaves. Do you want to live in a slum with no water, no power and no school for Phillip? Does that sound fun to you?’ She paced around the room. ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘philosophy is great, but it won’t protect you from the barbarians out there!’
Dad bit his lips. ‘But we’ve been at peace for decades now…’
‘Exactly’, Mum said. ‘But only because they know we outwit and outgun them. Change that policy, and we’re done for. Si vis pacem…’
‘Para bellum,’ Dad concluded. ‘I know. Yet. I can’t accept that everything in this city is just about war, weapons and survival. It seems to me that—’
‘Look Dad,’ Phillip said. ‘Not all drones are weapons. Some are just out there to spy and observe. If you’re so adamant about me not killing anyone, I can request to be appointed to the intelligence team.’
‘Can you really do that?’ Dad asked. ‘Will they comply?’
‘Probably,’ Phillip replied. ‘I heard they need pilots in that division. Few people apply for this sort of low-key jobs.’
Dad sighed again. ‘Okay, then. Where do we sign?’
I don't know what AMTO is, so some of this may go over my head. I kind of have the same issue with this story as the first one I read. It quickly becomes clear what the conflict and stakes are, then not much else happens for the rest of the story. There's an effect that sometimes happens in stories as well where every conflict that comes up is immediately and easily fixed, which just conditions the reader to expect that there will be no real obstacles to success. Every objection the father comes up with is put down right away by an explanation from the mother or son, and the dad accepts each one in turn. And while the ending finds a solution that would seem to be acceptable to all involved, it's also anticlimactic, so it kind of fizzles. The one thing that does get slowly developed throughout is the context of what's happening with this war, but it's still pretty vague. The strong point is the logical thread, which makes it all stick together as a believable situation.
