Steam Caveli. That's what my parents named me before I was steamed. Sometimes I look back on it, wondering what exactly I'd been through. It's all a haze now, I remember smoke filling my nostrils, hurting my head. The sharp pain of the syringe entering the base of my neck. After that, my first memory was of Crin Tools, the training arena. I was small then, maybe six or seven. Names kept being called out, mine one of them. I pushed through the enormous crowd, silent as I searched my brain for memories. They came in flashes, my old #life, family, friends, but it only further confused me. Someone grabbed my shirt from behind and pushed me forward. I gave a half hearted shriek and removed my face from the concrete to discover I was now laying in a clearing, with what looked like important people staring down at me disapprovingly. Quickly, I pushed off the ground, dusting off my new skirt, now dirty from the floor, and grimaced in humiliation as I realized how many eyes were on me. "Caveli." Said the man in the light. "Step forward." I did as I was told. The man in the shadows bored holes into my skull with those eyes. Those piercing eyes that sliced through the darkness. "Caveli." His voice was like pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together. "You have just been steamed." -"What's that?" -"You can now have any #life you want." -"You mean like my dream #life?" -"Yes." -"But what about my parents? My home? My friends?!" -"They don't matter anymore."