Part 7: Memory of Draga: Fists and Conveyor Belts

Fists and Conveyor Belts

With gusto, Draga feigns interest as her father, Magu, describes, in painstaking detail, his passion for factory life. But Draga's mind cannot focus. Instead a passing imperial guard catches her attention. She imagines the action Pygarian soldiers face--fighting and protecting!

Her father notices Draga's daydream. "Imagine, Draga! Tomorrow you will be promoted from grain silos to 1st floor conveyor belts!"

"Father," Draga says, half listening. "Is there a training program for joining the army?"

Magu is taken aback. "What? Assembly-line inspection doesn't interest you?"

The disappointment in her father's voice causes Draga to backpedal. "It's not that... It's just... The soldiers serve our nation so brilliantly. You know?"

"Well, sure," Magu agrees. "Every role in Pygaria is important. But our role keeps our nation afloat! One voice and one destiny for Pygaria."

"But if we did want to join the army... May we?"

Magu seems dumbfounded. "We are a part of a highly structured Pygarian society, Draga. You do understand that we are not expected to be in the army?"

Draga drops the matter. "Of course, father."

At the end of her shift, Draga forces a cheerier mood. After all, tomorrow she will be promoted to conveyor belts...

Hurried movements interrupt and Draga spots a squadron of imperial guards, weapons drawn, dashing across the grounds. But for what purpose? Draga surveys the factory and determines that the resource center's barricade has been broken through! The guards fan out, encircling someone, and a skirmish breaks loose!

Entranced, Draga watches the soldiers and the intruder exchange attacks and feints. The action and skill. It is music and dance. This is art. Draga realizes she has no choice. She must learn how to fight. But no soldier would teach her. Not the soldiers, then...