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this minute, but if I wanted to, and I knew I would, I wanted to be ready when the feeling arose.
    I cursed. The problem with an institution creating cells for men and women who might try to commit suicide was that they generally knew all the things one could use to accomplish the job.
    No sharp objects.
    No access to electrical.
    No way to tie something from the ceiling.
    No way to slam your head against an outcropping.
    The bed was an ergonomically curved frame, and the only part that extended was the mattress. A shelf along one wall was recessed. The shelf I pulled the tablet from was made of fabric. The mirror above the recessed sink was made out of stainless steel and was part of the wall. Even the toilet, which moved in and out of the room at the touch of a button, was made of a rubbery substance that made me not want to sit on it for any longer than was necessary.
    Someone cried out, followed by a chorus of shut up!
    Nothing like a bunch of soldiers with whom to commiserate.

 
    No state has an inherent right to survive through conscript troops and in the long run no state ever has. Roman matrons used to say to their sons: ‘Come back with your shield or on it.’ Later on, this custom declined. So did Rome.
    Robert Heinlein,
    Time Enough For Love
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    S IX WEEKS PASSED as I worked through the list. Days were punctuated by three meals and a midnight snack, provided by our trusty remote servants. Sometimes I read right through the night, interested in the battles and relationships with the characters, other nights I paced back and forth, staggering sometimes, as I tried desperately to stay awake so I could complete the task sooner. Twice I took tests which I failed, meaning I had to go back and read those sections of the books I’d failed to understand the first time. I should have known better. Whenever I thought something wouldn’t be on the test, it was, as if the test controllers had chosen the densest parts of the book to use to quiz me.
    My strategy was to read all the books first and leave the movies for last. What at first had seemed daunting had become a succession of hills to take, military objectives. Once I conquered one, it was time to run down and conquer the next. My reading was getting faster too. Not that I’d learned how to scan, like PFC Paulsen back in Iraq, who seemed capable of reading a book a day, but I was no slacker.
    We hadn’t seen anything of the officials running the complex, except when they came to remove all the tables and chairs, and when they came to remove the bodies. Two of our members had been determined enough to find a way to kill themselves. I watched as their bodies were carried away. I was detached. Other than Michelle and the asshole Olivares, I didn’t know anybody else. Unlike in a military unit, we didn’t share anything except our nightmares of war and the agreement we’d made with TF OMBRA to try and save the planet. Once we made it to Phase II, we’d have plenty of time to bond. Now was the time for concentration.
    It took me a while to work out how they’d killed themselves. Whoever had constructed the rooms had done a magnificent job eliminating corners and sharp edges. Even the light fixtures were immovable. The silverware was made from Teflon rubber. The plates were made from indestructible plastic. Really, other than slamming one’s head against the walls, bars, or floor, there was little someone could do to hurt themselves.
    Except for the underside of the bed. Doing sit ups my third day I saw it. The metal loops of the springs ran from one side of the frame to the other in a continuous interlocking web, both holding the mattress up and adding spring tension so it was less like sleeping on a rock and more like sleeping on a board. All of the metal pieces had been spot welded, probably to make certain we couldn’t use one of the ends. But the last spot weld at the foot of the bed on both sides was loose. I pried free one end,