This had been a very long, annoying, boring and also humiliating travel. How could she, Victoria Lancaster, 143 of IQ, who studied in Oxford one of the, if not the best institute of learning in the entire world, be with them, the reservists, the ‘Unsatisfactory’ items of the army? She had been writing on her laptop during the whole flight, her Doctoral Thesis, she planned on doing it during her free time, if she had any. She hopped this base would at least have internet, if not that would make her work impossible.
She held on to her computer as the inertia pushed her left against a wall. She turned to her right to see a red headed guy, about as tall as her, who had been pushed toward her. “Bloody Irish.”
So she said with a frown. Like any British person, she had a very low opinion of thousands of Irish immigrants that came after the civil war, flooding the job market with cheap, red headed, labor. She took her things, putted her laptop in her bag and began to hurry when the officer made his announcement, why she didn’t know, what kind of food could you expect from a military base in the middle of Siberia really.
Victoria stood up with her small luggage and left the plane. She stood next to the Irish guy that sat next to her earlier and looked around. What a piss hole. She however asked herself the same question as him, where was that bunker anyways? In the end, she decided to play the sheep and began to follow the largest group that seemed to more or less know what it was doing and began to ran… For a short while at least, after a dozen second she slowed down, already in sweat. She wasn’t fat, quite the contrary in fact, but never did she like this ‘Physical activity’ thing. “Christ, what’s the point if we’re supposed to sit down and pilot a damn machine anyways?!” Around her, some people in the same physical situation as her gave some approbation to this declaration.