Luke sat quietly, expressionless, thinking of his current situation and waiting for the questions. The recruiter ruffled through the papers, pausing and reading at his leisure, digging up little roots of information that might be vital to the conscription. His uniform was crisply ironed and the creases were perfectly straight. Horn rimmed glasses were perched delicately on the bridge of his nose, drawing attention away from the ugly gray hair poking out of his hat. A ceiling fan circled in the windowless room, casting shadows upon the dull gray walls. The chair that held Luke had a straight back and no pads, while the recruiter reclined in a comfortable desk chair. Luke sat motionless and dark, reflective glasses covered his eyes, but they remained motionless underneath. Luke heard the aged paper, smelt the old paint, but did not see anything. As the air breezed through his hair, Luke’s thoughts shifted to the clouds, drifting freely in the baby blue sky. He envied the liberty of every cloud, flying across the world, seeing the magic of the earth. As a child, Luke had laid on his back, imagining the clouds floating through the atmosphere, cruising overhead.

The recruiter leaned forward in his chair, cleared his throat and began the examination, “In the interest of caution, what is your name?”

“Lucas Benjamin Blair.”

With a slim nod, the recruiter replied, “Good, that’s what your file says.”

The twirling fan was beginning to annoy Luke, constantly shifting his hair back and forth. Each breeze felt like an interrogation of its own, testing his patience. Luke’s mind wandered back to his childhood, but was interrupted by the recruiter with a sudden query, “Luke, what is your profession?”

“I’m a writer sir, but I am unpublished.” Luke knew this information was in that folder. The army knew everything about everybody.  

“Why are you unpublished?” asked the recruiter. “You’ve been writing nearly ten years.”

“I don’t really know. Publishers always reject my books, and always for the same reason. They say, ‘We aren’t interested in this style of writing. The themes are too political and opposing to the current administration.’” 

The recruiter looked up, and with a sigh, said, “Yes, we actually have looked into your work. Rather controversial, as the publishers obviously told you, but there is brilliance in your writing.”