Ignoring the sensory assault of his navy blue clone uniform, he took the last box of papers from the makeshift shelf and handed it to Alex, who stood beside him, equally emotionless. Alex had been given a few funny looks from clones who were not yet familiar with the new clone model, but nobody had made a fuss or even bothered to question his scar. Even Ewan’s appearance had not been questioned: perhaps they assumed him to be one of the reinforcement models from New Reading.

It was late afternoon, the day’s brightness showing warning signs of fading through the windows, and their job was nearly done.

‘This is the last of them, right?’ Alex whispered, as faintly as he could and after double-checking that they were alone.

‘Shh,’ Ewan replied anyway.

‘But it is, right?’

Ewan rolled his eyes and nodded. Thanks to Raj’s efforts in the library, there had been less paperwork to carry to the transports. He walked towards the sports hall’s exit, Alex close behind with the box in both hands.

‘We’ve spent the whole day helping the enemy, you know.’

Ewan grew impatient enough to whisper back.

‘The sooner we’re finished packing, the sooner they start the journey to New London. Besides, we’ll be burning all this stuff once it reaches the paper archive anyway.’

‘Why am I carrying the last box?’

‘Because you were daft enough to take it from me.’

‘Ewan, if I had a free hand, guess what I’d be doing with my middle finger?’

‘Picking your nose. Now shut up.’

Ewan and Alex walked out of the school entrance towards the convoy of transport vehicles in the car park. For what must have been the twentieth time that day, they walked past Raj.

His headless body had been horrifying enough the previous night, without the details being revealed in broad daylight. Of all the reasons for Ewan to struggle with keeping a straight face, the repeated sight of his friend’s exploded body was by far the most challenging.

Ewan reached their van and opened the back doors. Alex placed the final box of papers on top of the pile, and slammed the doors shut before any onlookers could see what else lay inside. The two young men in clone uniforms headed for the driver and passenger seats, Alex driving of course, and waited for the convoy to start moving in front of them.

The journey to New London Citadel, when it finally began, was a dull and joyless one. As the gargantuan northern walls came into view, Ewan’s biggest emotional response was relief from his boredom. Somewhere up ahead, the first van in the convoy slowed as it approached the wire fence. There was a faint buzz in Ewan’s ears as they passed: he had never been close enough to the fence to know it was electric, but had often suspected it to be.