Registering at the DAA (Part 1)

After kissing Mom goodbye, Dad and I went out of the apartment and took the elevator to the third floor where Dad’s car was parked.

Instead of the flying electrical models that people are using nowadays, Dad’s car was still the old, four-wheeled model that uses gas to transport people (usually Mom, me and a few of Dad’s friends who are afraid of heights).

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” I began, giving the car a criticizing look. “Why don’t you just sell the car to a collector and buy the latest model?”

“Because it was given to me by your grandparents and you don’t give away gifts,” my Dad answered, opening the door to the driver’s seat.

“Then why don’t you ask Grandma if you can sell the thing?” I asked, getting on the front passenger seat.

“You met your Grandma. You know how she is,” Dad retorted, starting the car.

I met Grandma at an old Japanese restaurant during her eightieth birthday, and she was… strong-willed to say the least.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Okay,” I said.

Dad drove the car out of the parking lot and into the ancient and cracked pavement.

They really need to fix the ground street, I thought, leaning my back on the chair as Dad drove through the streets like an F4 racer (his words, not mine).

* * *

After two hours, we finally arrived at the DAA.

Vanguard City’s buildings are known for being tall, full of colorful neon lights and holographic signs. The DAA building is not different, the only difference it possesses are its blue armored walls made from some kind of monster skin and the bulletproof glass that all government establishments have.

That useless piece of information was unwillingly provided to me by my Dad and a dear friend who is very obsessed with architecture.

“Best that I’d get going, the computers aren’t going to fix themselves,” Dad said cheerfully, kissing me on the cheek.

“See you later, Dad,” I said, kissing him back.

“Make sure to send a message updating us!” he cried.

I gave Dad a thumbs up, as I got out of the car.

* * *

Dad says that over 40% of the human population are Awakeners. But you’d never think of it that way once you see the line leading into the DAA.

Seeing the amount of people almost made me want to call it a day and go home. But school is coming, and the more I delay my registration, the more problems that I’m going to have. Especially from my Dad.

So I put myself in the line, took out my phone and sat on the ground, only standing up to walk when the line moved.

Though the line was long, it was quick. Soon, I was at the door opening my satchel for the security guard to check when an arrogant voice shouted, “Move it, weakling!”