A Janissary of the system.

 

Very far in its genes flowed the blood of the old Armenian people who had suffered genocide. The Ottoman Empire, which had massacred their ancestors, had carried out several appalling experiments. Not only had certain exogenous populations been eliminated in order to preserve the racial and religious homogeneity of the nation, but the children of the conquered populations had been used to make soldiers, janissaries, or Ottoman wives.

He was vaguely aware of all this, but it was far away. He had grown up in a world that was still relatively peaceful, where a synthesis between peoples seemed possible. All the young people like him were mixing in a subcultural soup without ambition. The whole would be dominated, in the long run, by Islam, which imposed itself as the announced winner of this mixture imposed by the elites. On a territory deprived of immune defenses, the invasions followed one another. The most numerous, the hungriest were the Muslims.

His parents feared the confrontation. This clashed with his budding convictions and his adolescent friendships. He found his parents racist, driven by fears from another time. And, despite his disappointing personal experiences, despite the betrayals, the bad plans and the violence inherent in this world of scum, he persisted in his mistake.

When the civil war broke out, he followed his parents. He didn't have a girlfriend at that time. His best friend had been killed with his father in his café. There was nothing to keep him in his city, which had been plundered by the war.

Shocked, he followed, as in a bad dream, his parents, his brother and his sister to people he did not want to see again. He endured with bad temper a milieu of people whose traditional choices and mentality he disapproved of. But he fought with determination when they were attacked by the same hordes he had once considered allies.

He was once seriously wounded. He was still very weak when commandos came to take them to a camp of the mundialist army.

He was soon separated from his family and everyone he knew. He was taken to another country. He was fed, mixed with other young people of his age. The atmosphere was joyful, there were girls with whom he flirted.

As he was tall and vigorous, he was flattered. He was offered to take a course of his choice. He chose to train as a mechanic of military machines. He was incorporated into an elite regiment, trained for combat.

Within a few months, he found a new family. He was assigned to a regiment in America. He fought against resistance groups and killed several rebels belonging to groups that opposed the world order. His qualities as a man, his determination, his fighting spirit and the excellence of his education brought him to the attention of an officer, who put him on the promotion list and sent him to a military training school.

He never saw his family again and continued his career in the internal security services. He married a woman who was active in the same circles. They had no children, because she chose to be sterile. 

He chose not to dwell too much on his past, on his family and the conditions in which he had lost them. It was an old story, it was the war, it was the chance of life.