July 14th, 2106 | 10:31 PM

Dear Diary,

Today I finally had that monitor removed from the back of my neck. The nurse tried to say some comforting words to me before it was removed. They’re lies. I know it will hurt. Maybe when the monitor is removed, Peter will leave me alone. Obviously, he won’t do that. During the last fifteen minutes of class, the word “THIRD” began to march around my desk. No doubt Stilson sent it to my desk. I’m the third child in my family. The government authorized for me to be born, you see. Who else would’ve allowed a “Third” to go to school? Apparently, their experiment on my success with the monitor failed. Class ended and I knew Stilson and some others were waiting for me. “Hey Third,” he said. I ignored him. Eventually, his bullying and teasing turned into a fight. It wasn’t a pretty one, too. At one point, his buddies held me. As soon as I was released, I kicked towards Stilson’s breastbone. I didn’t expect him to fall to the ground so easily. He probably didn’t take fights seriously. Against all the unspoken rules of manly warfare, I went up to Stilson and kicked him in the ribs, hard. Striking a helpless opponent was forbidden but I had a reason to. I kicked him in the crotch. I wanted to be sure that he and his gang won’t be coming back to me next time to bother me. I gave his buddies the warning of their life. Finally, I kicked Stilson in the face.

When I came home from school, my sister Valentine noticed my missing monitor and tried to make me feel better. I replied saying that I didn’t care. Really, I didn’t care. The government failed their experiment on me so what do I have to worry about? Unfortunately, Peter probably had a similar idea to mine. “What’s gone?” Valentine tried to reason with him by saying that I was like them, having lost the monitor and all. Peter refused to let that stop him. I had my monitor longer than both Valentine and Peter and he made sure to address that. Peter decided to take advantage of my missing monitor. The monitor watched what you did, felt your feelings, and listened to what you heard. Now that’s it’s gone, Peter can do what he wants with me. “Let’s play buggers and astronauts,” he said. I accepted his offer and got the role of the bugger like always. The ones who were the buggers always lost. I put on the bugger mask. I could hardly see through the eye holes in the mask. Suddenly, I felt a painful blow to the side of my head and fell. I was about to take off my mask but Peter pushed his toe into my groin. He warned me not to take it off. I put the mask back into place. He pressed with his foot. Gosh, it was so painful! “Peter, stop it,” I said.

He knelt on my chest, slowly pushing his knee into my stomach, just under my breastbone. It got harder to breathe. “I could kill you like this,” he said. Val was watching and interrupted, saying that she’ll tell. They had a short argument and she won. Peter let off some pressure from my chest. Then he started his death threats. Valentine and Peter argued again. In the end, Peter laughed and fell onto the bed. He stated that he could make us believe anything he says. He should’ve been the one getting hurt in my fight with Stilson. I decided to threat him by showing him the blood stain from Stilson on my shoe. He laughed it off. That night, Peter knelt by my bed and whispered to me that he was sorry and that he loves me. I cried when Peter’s breathing said he was asleep. I hope tomorrow will be a normal day…

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 1 ~

~ 2 ~

July 15th, 2106 | 12:30 PM

Dear Diary,

I woke up with no appetite. I couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like at school. I didn’t want to find out what Stilson’s friends would do. Mom tried to convince me to eat. Just a few seconds later, the table beeped. Someone was outside our door. Did you know who was standing outside? A man wearing a military uniform that could only mean the I.F. (International Fleet) stood outside. While Mom and Dad talked to the officer in the other room, Peter started being a snob. The door opened after a few minutes and Dad called me. The officer got onto his feet when I walked in.

Dad mentioned that Stilson was in the hospitable and that I wasn’t fair in my fight with him. I just shook my head. I didn’t expect this to become so serious. The officer asked if I had an explanation for my behavior and I shook my head again. He noted that I kept kicking Stilson when he was still down and I looked like I enjoyed it. I definitely did not enjoy it. “I didn’t,” I whispered. He asked why I kept kicking after I won. “Knocking him down won the first fight. I wanted to win all the next ones, too. So they’d leave me alone.” I cried after telling him. I had to take care of myself with the monitor gone, right? He walked to me with his hand held out. He introduced himself as Colonel Hyrum Graff, director of primary training at Battle School in the Belt. Colonel Graff has come to invite me to enter the school. Turns out, I can choose whether I want to go to the battle school or not. Colonel Graff had a private conversation with me to convince me to go. He said so many things that I never knew. All the things my mom and dad had tried to do, to escape the past, had been undone. They wanted to be against having more than the allowed two children. They love me, yes, but they don’t know if they want me here. I asked about the life at Battle School. It’s like school but with more computers and math. There’ll be military history, strategy, tactics, and the Battle Room (where the war games are).

Colonel Graff told me that Peter was a good choice so the government tried Valentine. She was too mild and so they tried me. I was chosen for the sake that I was…afraid of Peter. They want me to be half Peter and half Valentine. Colonel Graff kept telling me that I was their chance, possibly their last one. I remembered the videos of the bugger wars. I chose to go to Battle School. All the things I’d leave behind: Peter, Mom, Dad, and most of all Valentine. I’m not kidding but I’m scared. We told my parents. They cried and Peter kept saying I was lucky. I think not. I went into Colonel Graff’s car while my family yelled their farewells. Out of all the good-byes, Valentine’s was the clearest. “Come back to me! I love you forever!” I won’t forget her, ever.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 3 ~

July 16th, 2106 | 8:00 PM

Dear Diary,

Today’s launch from Earth did not go well. There were 19 other boys who were in the launch with me. They were making jokes and laughing but I didn’t join. I noticed Graff and the other officers were watching us. Everything we did meant something. When we walked closer to the shuttle, I noticed TV cameras going around. I imagined an interview with the TV guy while we moved smoothly in front of the camera man. It was funny so I smiled. I actually wanted to laugh, too! When we were about to enter the shuttle, the disorientation began. The right wall was carpeted like a floor. I felt like I was walking on a wall you know what I mean? I played around with the idea and imagined myself climbing down the wall when I climbed up the ladder. I sat in a seat. The officers were walking around helping the others attach the straps but I figured out how to put it on. Graff was coming with us so maybe I would have a friend in Battle School. We all sat for an hour while the TV at the front introduced shuttle flight, space flight history, and our possible future with I.F.’s starships. It was boring stuff. I knew all this.

The launch was a little scary. There was some jolting. Then, it stopped and we were hanging by the straps with no gravity. Graff came up the ladder backwards. When he hooked his feet under a rung and pushed off with his hands, he suddenly swung upright. It didn’t bother me but the reorientation was too much for some. A boy gagged and I knew why we weren’t allowed to eat anything for twenty hours before launch. Still Graff’s gravity game was fun. I imagined him hanging upside down the center aisle or him sticking straight out from the side wall. Suddenly Graff asked, “What do you think is so funny, Wiggin?” His voice was sharp and angry. What’d I do wrong? “I asked you a question, soldier!” It was the beginning of the training routine. I explained that I was thinking about him hanging upside down by his feet and thought it was funny. Then he asked everyone else if it was funny to them. There were murmurs of no. Unexpectedly, he called them scumbrains and pinheaded morons. He said that only one of us had the brains to realize that you could go in any direction in null gravity. Graff was setting me up as the best. I didn’t want that.

When he left, I felt a sharp pain on my head. The boy behind me must’ve unfastened his straps. The blow came again; more pain and laughter. Where was Graff? He caused this to happen. I timed the blows. When the next one came, I grabbed the boy’s wrist and pulled down on his arm, hard. He flipped over the seat and sailed through the air. I didn’t know that null gravity would magnify the effects of movement. He bounced everywhere for a few seconds until Graff came. His left arm was broken. I hate myself for being like Peter. We landed and I made sure to be the last one out. “Was it a good flight, Ender?” Graff asked cheerfully. “I thought you were my friend,” I said. He asked me what gave me that idea. He spoke to me so nicely and honestly; he didn’t lie. “I won’t lie now, either,” he said. He explained that it’s his job to produce the best soldiers in the world. I mentioned to him that he made everyone hate me. He only replied to me saying that I couldn’t crawl into a corner. The only way was to be so good that I couldn’t be ignored. We human beings are free unless humanity needs us. We’re tools. “That’s a lie,” I said. “No. It’s just a half truth. You can worry about the other half after we win this war.”

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 4 ~

~ 5 ~

July 16th, 2106 | 10:20 PM

Dear Diary,

I arrived at the dormitory and there was only one bed left. It was the bottom bunk right by the door. The other boys were watching me. I gave them a big smile and said, “Hey, thanks.” I didn’t say it with any sarcasm. I said it as sincerely as possible as if they gave me the best position to sleep in. I sat down and I saw the locker at the foot of the bunk. Its door was open and there was a piece of paper taped on the inside of the door. The instructions said to place my hand on the scanner at the head of my bunk and speak my name twice. The scanner was a sheet of opaque plastic. I placed my left hand on it and said my name twice. The scanner glowed green for a moment. I closed the locker and tried to re-open it. It didn’t budge so I put my hand on the scanner and said my name. The locker opened as well as the three compartments within it. The first compartment had four jumpsuits like the ones I wore earlier and one white one. The second compartment had a desk for out studies. Yep, like the ones at school. The last compartment was the most important one.

It looked like a spacesuit complete with helmet and gloves. It was thickly padded and a little stiff. There was a pistol with it. It looked like a lasergun. Surely, they wouldn’t let us have lethal weapons. A man behind me spoke up. He said it’s not a laser but it has a tight beam. You can aim it and make a three-inch circle of light on a wall a hundred meters off. It’s used in the games during recreation. He asked everyone if they had coded their lockers since the dormitory we’re living in is our home for the first year. Apparently, the bunk I have is where the group’s chief officer sleeps. Our group’s color code is red yellow yellow. The man’s name is Dap and he’s our mom for the next few months. Interesting, eh? He made sure to address about not getting lost in Battle School. Also, he made sure to note that murder is strictly against the rules. If anything like a broken arm happens again, you get iced out. To be iced out is basically getting kicked out of Battle School. You go back to Earth. No one looked at me. Dap left and still no one dared to look at me. I started getting scared. The arm I broke, I didn’t feel sorry about it. He was a Stilson and like Stilson, he had a group of boys with him. It’s me against a gang all over again; me against Peter but with no Valentine.

Dinner was lonely for me. No one sat with me. The other boys talked about more important things — the giant scoreboard on the wall, the food, and the bigger kids. The scoreboards showed the team standings/win-loss records. I noticed that each team in the mess hall had their own area, despite the fact that different teams were talking together in one group. I tried to guess some of the teams by their clothing. Later on, an older boy around twelve or thirteen came by and sat next to me. We chatted for a while and he introduced himself as Mick. He asked if I was the bugger in my launch group; maybe. We talked for a while about the leaders who had teams, the idea that I should make friends, and eating. I didn’t like Mick. For sure I won’t be like him. I didn’t come here all this way just to be iced out. I won’t be the bugger. While I ate, I thought about my family. I shouldn’t have thought about them. I started counting doubles like I always did when Peter tormented me. It takes away the pain and tears. Tonight, I heard the whimpers of several boys in the distance about family members/pets. I couldn’t help it but I thought about Valentine. I heard her laugh, Mom passing by my door to check on me, Dad laughing at a video. Dap came tonight and went here and there, giving a kind touch to those that cried the most. That kind of touch just made them want to cry more. Not me. When he came by

~ 6 ~

me, my crying was already done. The tears were dry. This was the face I presented to Mom and Dad when Peter was being cruel. Thank you for this Peter, for dry eyes and silent weeping.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 7 ~

July 17th, 2106 | 5:20 PM

Dear Diary,

Dap showed us the game room today. It was above where we lived and worked. The gravity weakened as we climbed up to it. Some of the games we saw were the ones we knew or maybe played at home. I walked past the two-dimensional games and observed the bigger boys playing holographic games. I noticed that I was the only Launchy in that part of the game room. Every now and then one of the bigger boys would shove me out of the way. They would say “What’re you doing here?” “Get lost” or “Fly off”. Every time I would withdraw but I moved to a different spot to get a different angle at the game. I was too small to see the controls, to see how to play the game. That didn’t matter since I could see what happened from the air. The players dug tunnels in the darkness, tunnels of light, which the enemy ships would search for and then follow until they caught the player’s ship. The player could also make traps: mines, drifting bombs, or loops in the air that forced the enemy ships to repeat forever. Some players were smart, while others lost quickly. I liked it better when two boys played against each other. They would have to use each other’s tunnels and it would be easy to see which of them was worth it.

In the next hour or so, I understood the game and the rules the computer followed. I know that I could always outmaneuver the enemy once I mastered the controls. Spirals when the enemy ship was like this; loops when the enemy was like that. There’s no challenge to it, really. It’s just a matter of playing until the computer got so fast that no human reflexes could overcome it. That wasn’t fun. That’s why I want to play with the other boys, the boys who had been so trained by the computer that when they played against each other they would try to imitate the computer. You need to think like a machine, not a boy. I decided to challenge the boy who had just won. “Is it a bug or a bugger?” he asked. Someone replied, “A new flock of dwarfs just came aboard.” I told the boy that he was afraid to play me two out of three. He replied saying that beating me would be as easy as pissing in the shower. I told him my name and he just replied, “Listen up, scrunchface. You nobody. Got that? You nobody, got that? You not anybody till you got you first kill. Got that?” The older boys slang had a rhythm to it so I imitated their slang. “If I’m nobody, then how come you scared to play me two out of three?” They accepted.

The controls were simple. At first my reflexes were slow. I lost but I learned a lot. “Satisfied, Launchy?” Not yet; two out of three. He refused. I told him that he beat me the first time that I ever touched the game and if he couldn’t do it twice, he can’t do it at all. He accepted and we played. This time, I pulled off a few maneuvers that he obviously never saw before. His patterns couldn’t keep up. The game wasn’t easy but I won. The next game went in total silence. I won it quickly. When the game ended, one of the boys said, “Bout time they replaced this machine. Getting so any pinbrain can beat it now.” I walked away in total silence with no congratulations. I didn’t go too far away, just off in the near distance so I could watch the next players use the things I showed them. Any pinbrain? They won’t forget me. I feel good knowing that I won something, against older boys. They probably weren’t the best of the older boys. I don’t feel like Battle School will be too much for me anymore. All I have to do was watch the games, understand it, and use the system. I just need to be patient and observant.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 8 ~

~ 9 ~

July 20th, 2106 | 5:00 PM

Dear Diary,

You know the boy’s arm I broke? His name is Bernard and he’s out for vengeance. I became their enemy. They did little things like kicking my bed every time they went in and out the door, bumping into me when I had my meal tray, and tripping me on the ladders. I also learned to not leave anything out of my locker. I also needed to be quick on my feet to catch myself. To be angry at Bernard is inadequate. He’s a tormentor. What angers me most is how the others go along with him willingly. They should be able to see that Bernard is a snake. After all, I’m not his only target. Bernard was setting up a kingdom. I watched from the edge of the group as Bernard established kingdom. Some boys were useful to him and he flattered them. Some boys were willing to be his servants even though he treated them with disrespect. I watched and I knew who disliked Bernard. Shen was small, determined, and easily teased. Bernard discovered that and started calling him Worm since he ‘shimmies’ his butt when he walks. Shen stormed off. I would be angry, too. I didn’t say anything to Shen since it would be obvious that I was starting my own gang.

I had my desk on my lap trying to look like I was studying. I wasn’t studying; I was telling my desk to keep sending a message to everyone. Sending the message was easy but to disguise who sent it wasn’t easy. Whenever you send a message, you name is automatically put as the name of the sender. I was able to set up a file as a nonexistent student which I named God. When the messages were ready to be sent, I tried to catch Shen’s eye. Shen glanced around and I nodded to him, pointed to his desk, and smiled. He reached for his desk and I sent the message. He read it and laughed. Then he looked at me as if asking if I did it. I shrugged back as if saying it wasn’t me for sure. He laughed again and the other boys who weren’t close to Bernard’s group got out their desks. The messages appeared every thirty seconds marching around everyone’s screen quickly and disappearing. They all laughed together. Bernard had one of his boys take out his desk. He read it and boy was he angry! Did you know what I sent? COVER YOUR BUTT. BERNARD IS WATCHING. —GOD

After a while, Bernard sent a message to me saying that he knows it was me. I didn’t look up. He just wants to catch me looking guilty. I got knocked down in the shower that morning. One of Bernard’s boys pretended to trip me over and managed to plant a knee to my belly. I would do nothing in the open war. However, I had my next attack in place with the desk war. When I got back from the showers, Bernard was furious, kicking beds, and yelling. “I didn’t write it! Shut up!” This is what I sent to every boy’s desk: I LOVE YOUR BUTT. LET ME KISS IT. —BERNARD. There was shouting until Dap appeared to check out what was going on. Bernard told Dap that someone had been sending messages in his name. Dap read the message and smiled slightly. Bernard asked if he was going to find out who did it. Dap replied saying that he knew who did it. They know it was me. Bernard shouted back, “Well, who, then?” Dap took on an authoritative voice asking Bernard if he was shouting at him. He explained that the system automatically puts the name of the sender. Bernard brought up the subject GOD sending messages. He just replied, “Really? I didn’t know he was signed onto the system.”

Your best buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 10 ~

~ 11 ~

July 21st, 2106 | 5:30 PM

Dear Diary,

We finally got to experience the battleroom. We didn’t battle for real but we got to test our spacesuit, laserguns, and the null gravity. When we entered the battleroom, we all clung to the handholds along the side. Null gravity is frightening and disorienting. That isn’t the worst of it; the suits were confining. It’s hard to make precise movements since the suits bent slower and resisted more that any clothing we ever wore. I gripped onto a handhold and flexed my knees. I noticed that even though the suit was sluggish in movement, it also had an amplifying effect on the movement. It’s hard to get them started but the suit’s legs continue to move after your muscles stop. You give it a push this strong and the suit pushes with twice the force. I pushed off with my feet, strongly. I instantly flipped around and landed flat on my back against the wall. The rebound was strong and I lost hold of the handhold. I flew across the battleroom tumbling over a lot. I tried to keep my original position but there was no gravity so I reoriented myself and saw the wall as the floor. I was falling. I tried to fly off at an angle to soften the impact but that went wrong. I flew at an angle and hit another wall. I accidentally discovered a way to use my feet to control the rebound angle. I slowed down enough to grab a rung around the other boys. Shen asked me what I was trying to do. I explained about the suit’s protection and using your feet to control your rebound. He shook his head. However, one boy took off. It was Bernard and right after him was his best friend, Alai.

Bernard struggled to orient himself to the direction he thought as the floor. Alai surrendered and prepared to rebound from the wall. *NOTE*: Bernard tightens up when he’s flying. That’s why his arm broke in the shuttle. Alai did a glancing triple bounce on three surfaces near the corner sending him off at a surprising angle and a lot of speed. He whooped and so did the boys who were watching him. They let go of the handholds to clap their hands. They drifted lazily while waving their arms. There’s no way to push off. I decided to test the toy gun. I had pushed all the buttons back in the room but it didn’t do anything. I tried it in the battleroom. I aimed at the ground and pulled the trigger. It instantly became warm. It became cold when I released it. A tiny circle of light appeared on the floor where I aimed. I pushed the white button and it gave a bright flash of light that illuminated a wide area. The gun was cold when I pressed it. I saw Alai on a wall not too far from me so I pushed off and moved towards him. I wasn’t going to land near him; I was going to hit him. Alai offered his hand and I grabbed it while he took the impact’s shock. I told him that we should start practicing stuff like this. We planned to shove each other in opposite directions when we were away from the wall. I told him to meet me in a corner. We pushed off and it propelled us faster than we expected. I ended up on a wall I didn’t expect and had to reorient myself to find the corner. Alai was already on his way.

I showed him what I learned about the pistols. He asked me what happened if we aimed at a person. We didn’t know so we tested it. We shot each other in the foot. I immediately felt the leg of my suit grow stiff, immobile at the knee and ankle joints. Alai suggested that we should freeze a few, maybe our first war; us against them. I mentioned that we should invite Bernard and Shen. “That little butt-wiggler?” I decided that he was joking so I said, “If you didn’t hold yours so tight it would wiggle, too.” In twenty minutes, everyone in the room was frozen except for me, Alai, Bernard, and Shen. We were whooping and laughing until Dap came in. He held a control and had everybody drift toward the wall he was standing on. He went among the frozen boys and thawed them. There were a lot of complaints about how Bernard and Alai had shot

~ 12 ~

them all when they weren’t ready. Dap asked them why they weren’t ready. They had as much time as we four did. I noticed that Bernard and Alai were assumed the leaders of the battle. That was fine with me, personally. Bernard knew me and Alai learned to use the guns together. We were friends. Other people might believe I joined Bernard’s group but really I joined a new group. I joined Alai’s group and so did Bernard.

Your best buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 13 ~

July 26th, 2106 | 10:30 PM

Dear Diary,

I was doing Free Play a while ago during private study time. It’s a crazy kind of game where the school computer kept bringing up new things. Today, my figure on the screen started as a little boy. It became a large mouse, with long and delicate hands. I made my figure run under a lot of large items of furniture shown on the screen. I used to play with the cat a lot but it became boring. He was too easy to dodge. However, I could never win the game through the mousehole. The Giant was never fair. I went through the mousehole anyways and over the small bridge into the garden. The landslides began. I used to get caught in it a lot. Now, I mastered the skill of running up the slopes at an angle so I could avoid being crushed. As always, the landslides weren’t jumbles of rock anymore. The face of the hill would break open and instead of shale it was white bread, soft and spongy. My figure jumped off the bread and I was standing on a table. There would be a giant loaf of bread behind me, a giant stick of butter beside me, and the Giant himself leaning his chin in his hands looking at me.

“I think I’ll bite your head off,” said the Giant like he always did. I walked my figure up to the Giant’s face and kicked his chin. He just stuck out his tongue at me and I fell to the ground. “How about a guessing game?” the Giant asked. Stupid computer; loads of scenarios but the Giant could only play that one stupid game. He set out two giant shot glasses as tall as my knees on the table in front of me. The liquids were always different in each game. The computer made sure the liquids never repeated. One had a thick, creamy liquid. The other one hissed and foamed. “One is poison and one is not. Guess right and I’ll take you into Fairyland.” Guessing meant sticking my head into one of the glasses to drink. I never guessed right. The deaths were always horrible and the Giant always laughed. I knew that whatever I chose would be wrong. I drank the creamy liquid. Immediately my figure began to inflate and rise like a balloon. The Giant laughed and I was dead again. I played again and the liquid was set. I held my head down while the Giant cut open my spine, deboned me like a fish, and ate while my arms and legs quivered. I reappeared by the landslides and let it cover me. Even though I was cold and sweating, I went back to the Giant in my next life.

One was foaming and the other one had waves like the sea. The foaming one will probably asphyxiate me. The ocean one would probably have a fish come out and eat me. I didn’t choose. I kicked both drinks and dodged the Giant’s huge hands. I jumped onto his face and dug into his eye. The stuff came away like cottage cheese, and as he screamed, my figure burrowed into the eye, climbed right in, and burrowed in. The Giant fell over backward. When he rested on the ground, I saw intricate, lacy trees all around. A bat landed on the dead Giant’s nose. “How did you get here? Nobody ever comes here,” the bat said. I couldn’t answer so I offered it some of the Giant’s eye stuff. The bat took it and flew away shouting, “Welcome to Fairyland.” I finally made it. I should’ve explored it but I think I’ve seen and done too much. I hadn’t meant to the kill the Giant. This was supposed to be a game! I’m a murderer even when I play. Peter would be proud of me.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 14 ~

~ 15 ~

April 28th, 2107 | 10:30 PM

Dear Diary,

Alai sat across from at dinner. He found out how to send messages using a different name. He also said that he couldn’t use my name. He figured that I set up my own security system (which I did). Alai actually got in and trashed somebody’s files. Alai asked me to set up a security system for him. I had him bring his desk to me but I didn’t have my desk. I couldn’t get into my locker. Turned out there was a note on my bed. I’ve been assigned to Salamander Army, with commander Bonzo Madrid (pronounced Bone-So), and no possessions transferred. Nobody got promoted until they were eight years old and I wasn’t even seven yet! I pulled Alai up from my bed so we were standing up. “They’re fartheads, Ender; they won’t even let you take anything you own.” I joked that I should strip and go naked. Alai laughed, too. I hugged Alai tight and he hugged me back. He said that they might be in a hurry to teach me. I didn’t think so. I wanted to learn how it was like to have a friend. Alai said that I would always be his friend. That made me feel better. Suddenly, he kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, “Salaam.” Then he turned away and walked to his own bed at the back. I guessed the kiss and word were somehow forbidden. Whatever it meant to Alai, I knew it was sacred; he had uncovered himself for me like my mother did when I was very young before they put the monitor in my neck. She thought I was asleep when she put her hands on my forehead prayed over me. I never told anyone, even Mom, but I kept it as a memory of holiness, of how my mother loved me.

I had to go to one of the public areas to pick up the colors green green brown. I went to the bank of public desks at the back of the room and signed onto Fairyland. The Giant’s corpse had finished decaying. I went around the giant’s corpse and followed the brook upstream. In the forest there was a playground, with slides and monkeybars, teeter-totters and merry-go-rounds, and a dozen children laughing as they played. I was a small child in the game and I was smaller than the other children. I got in line for the slide and they ignored me. I slid but I soon fell right through the slide and landed on the ground under the ladder. The monkey bars wouldn’t hold me either. The see-saw made sure I fell off. The merry-go-round would go so fast that I couldn’t hold on. The other children circled around me and appointed and laughed for many seconds before they continued playing. I walked into the forest and found a path. It led to a clearing with a well in the middle. A dozen wolves emerged with human faces. They were the children from the playground. I was quickly devoured. I re-spawned in the same spot and got eaten again. Then, I spawned back in the playground. The children were laughing at me. I hit one of them and she followed me angrily. I slid down the slide and she fell with me. A dead wolf lay there. I did the same with the rest of the kids. Just when I finished, they revived and tore me apart. I was back on the Giant’s table. I wanted to quit and go to my new army but I made my figure go back to the playground. As soon as the kid dropped and turned into a wolf, I dragged the body to the brook and pulled it in. The body would sizzle and a dark cloud of smoke arose and drifted away.

The kids/ wolves were no longer there so I lowered myself into the well. The light in the cavern was dim, but I could see piles of jewels with eyes glinting among them. I passed through a group of cages hanging from the ceiling of the cave, each containing some exotic, friendly-looking creature. I came to a door with words in glowing emeralds: THE END OF THE WORLD. I opened the door and stood on a small ledge that overlooked a terrain of bright and deep green forest, small villages with ox-drawn plows, a castle in the distance, and clouds under me. The door closed and I jumped from the ledge. A cloud caught me and carried me to the

~ 16 ~

tower of the castle, through the open window. This time, I hesitated. A small rug became a long, slender serpent with scary teeth. “I am your only escape. Death is your only escape,” it said. I looked around the room for a weapon when my screen turned dark. Yep, I had to report to my commander immediately.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 17 ~

April 28th, 2107 | 11:12 PM

Dear Diary,

Armies were larger than launch groups and so were their barracks room. A boy larger than the others asked me, “What do you want? You’re not a Salamander.” I replied saying that I was supposed to be and showed him the note. He was going to hold it but I withdrew it. I told him that I had to give it to Bonzo Madrid. Another boy who was smaller than the rest but bigger than me joined the conversation. He told me how to pronounce Bonzo’s name correctly. I asked if he was Bonzo but he replied saying that she was Petra Arkanian, the only girl in Salamander Army. “Just between you and me if they gave the Battle School an enema, they’d stick it in at green green brown,” Petra said. Suddenly, everything turned quiet. In the doorway stood a boy who was tall and slender. “Who are you?” The boy asked quietly. I told him my name and explained that I was reassigned while I gave him the paper. I was asked how long I worked in the battleroom. “A few months, now. My aim is better.” Did I learn about maneuvers or was I part of a toon before? I didn’t understand any of it so I shook my head.

He explained that Major Anderson runs the game and are fond of playing tricks. He also said that must be why he was given a “useless, untrained, hopeless specimen of underdevelopment as yourself (Me).” He began some sort of speech and then all the soldiers would cry out “Salamander” at certain parts. It was a pattern, a ritual. Madrid wasn’t trying to hurt me; he was just using this event to strengthen his control of the army. He said that he wanted to trade me as soon as possible. “He’s all heart,” Petra said. Madrid stepped close to her and slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. Then, Madrid gave me instructions. I have to stay out of the way when they’re training in the battleroom. I have to be there but I won’t be participating in any toon or maneuvers. During battle, I cannot pass through the gate until four full minutes passed after the game started. After those minutes pass, I will remain at the gate with my weapons undrawn and unfired until the game ends. I was to be nothing. I hope I can get traded soon.

My bunk was at the far end of the room. The lockers were not secured. Nothing is private now that I’m in an army. The uniform was orange-trimmed and dark green, the colors of Salamander Army. I noticed Petra coming down the aisle towards my bed. I went down to meet her and asked if she was a toon leader. She asked why I thought that. She had a bunk at the front. Turns out it was because she was the best sharpshooter in Salamander Army. Petra mentioned that the battleroom is open all the time and that she could show me some of the things she knew. I told her that my launch always went to the battleroom after breakfast but there were nine battlerooms. She explained that the battlerooms don’t rotate with the rest of the station. Later, I went to the bathroom. I had to wear my uniform at all times out of the room. I was also forbidden to speak with anyone in any other army. “Hey, look! Salamander’s getting babies now! Look at this! He could walk between my legs without touching my balls!” “Cause you got none, Dink, that’s why,” another boy answered. When I left the room, I heard someone say, “It’s Wiggin. You know the smartass Launchie from the game room.” I may be short but they knew my name from the game room, yes. They’d all know my name soon…

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 18 ~

~ 19 ~

April 30th, 2107 | 10:36 PM

Dear Diary,

Yesterday morning I practiced with Petra. We didn’t really practice; we talked a lot about how to think while you’re aiming. I did get to practice shooting targets but I missed every one. The rest of that day I sat in a corner of the room and did my schoolwork. Bonzo had to bring all his soldiers to the battleroom but he didn’t have to use them. I must tell you, I wasn’t doing my schoolwork. If I couldn’t drill as a soldier, I could at least study Bonzo like a tactician. Salamander Army was divided into four toons of ten soldiers each. Toon A had the best soldiers while Toon D had the worst. Toon B only had nine soldiers and the leader was new. That explains why Bonzo was so disgusted—he lost a toon leader to get me. Bonzo was also right that I wasn’t ready. The entire time they practiced maneuvers. They practiced a maneuver that was very difficult; a maneuver where the enemy couldn’t get behind you. I learned as much as I could but I also saw some things that could be improved. The formations were well-rehearsed so the soldiers could obey shouted orders instantly. It made them predictable. I studied Bonzo’s formation like an enemy commander would, figuring out ways to disrupt the formation.

I practiced with my Launchies. I’d only been away for a day but everything seemed almost alien. I told them how Salamander Army treated me. I proposed to them my bargain: I will learn things from what I watch from the armies and I will practice with them. A lot of boys wanted to come and I let them if they were willing to work hard and not be lazy. I was clumsy trying to describe what I saw and trying to work out ways to do it. Still when free play ended, we learned some things. We were tired but we were getting the knack of a few techniques. I went back to my army’s barracks and Bonzo was waiting for me. “Where were you?” he asked. I told him I was practicing in the battleroom. He doesn’t want any soldier in Salamander Army hanging around with Launchies. I asked to speak with him privately. It was a request that all commanders were required to allow. Bonzo started to tell me that he doesn’t want me and he’s trying to get rid of me. I told him that he was right about not placing me in a toon since I didn’t know anything. However I told him I won’t screw up his regular drill but I will practice with my Launchies. I’ll follow all his orders but free play is free. No one can order me around. I have to learn sometime; no one would take me if I knew nothing. He can get rid of me faster if I knew something.

“While you’re in Salamander Army, you’ll obey me.” Here’s what I said: “If you try to control my free play, I can get you iced.” That probably wasn’t true but it’s possible. I told him that it isn’t my fault that he gave the order in front of everyone but if he wanted to, I could pretend that he won the argument. Then tomorrow he will tell me he changed his mind. He didn’t want me to tell him what to do. I reasoned with him that I didn’t want the other guys to think he backed down. He wouldn’t be able to command as well. Well then, Bonzo hates me now. “I’ll have your ass someday,” Bonzo said. I returned to the barracks looking dejected, beaten, and angry. When I left for breakfast today, Bonzo stopped me. He spoke to me loudly that he changed his mind and that maybe practicing with my Launchies will make me learn something. I could be traded faster. I thanked him. “Anything. I hope you’re iced,” he whispered. Sure.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 20 ~

~ 21 ~

April 2nd, 2107 | 10:40 PM

Dear Diary,

Today was my first battle with Salamander Army. We were against Condor Army. The wall behind Bonzo was blank. Then the wall behind him became transparent. It was a forcefield, not a wall. There were huge brown boxes suspended in midair that partially blocked the view. They were the obstacles the soldiers called stars. The soldiers didn’t know how to handle the stars. They didn’t know how to softland on one and use it for cover. They also showed no sense at all of which stars mattered. The other commander took advantage of Bonzo’s neglect of strategy. Condor Army forced Salamander Army to take costly assaults. On the next star, there were fewer Salamanders unfrozen. By the time it was four minutes, it was clear that my army couldn’t defeat the enemy by attacking. I stepped through the gate. In the battlerooms I practiced in, the doors were positioned at floor level. The battleroom here had the door in the middle of the wall. I reoriented myself until I saw the enemy gate was down.

Someone saw me and I pulled my legs under me. At that moment I was flashed and the suit of my legs were frozen. If I hadn’t pulled up my legs I would have been immobilized. Since Bonzo ordered me to have my weapons undrawn, I continued to drift. The enemy ignored me. The battle wasn’t a sweet one; quite bitter. Salamander Army was outnumbered. The battle turned into a dozen individual shootouts. Bonzo’s discipline did pay off. Every frozen Salamander at least took one enemy with him. Petra was the most deadly. Condor Army noticed and took some effort to shoot her. Salamander Army couldn’t resist. I noted that Condor could only muster five soldiers necessary to open the gate to victory. Four of them touched their helmets to the lighted spots and one passed through the forcefield. The game ended, the lights came back on to full brightness, and Anderson came out of the teacher door. I could have drawn my gun as Condor approached the door. I could have caught them by surprise and make the game a draw. Without four men to touch the helmets to the four corners and a fifth man to pass through the gate there would be no victory. In the record book, everyone expected the forty-one disabled or eliminated but there were forty eliminated and one damaged. Bonzo didn’t understand at first until he spoke with Anderson and realized who it was. Salamander Army was the only losing army with one man in the Damaged but Active category.

The other members of my army knew what happened. When they asked why I hadn’t disobeyed I simply replied that I obey orders. After breakfast, Bonzo looked for me. He reminded me that his order is still standing. I may not be a good soldier but Bonzo’s order will cost him. There was a side effect of the battle. I emerged at the top of the soldier efficiency list. Since I hadn’t fired a shot, I had a perfect score on shooting—I never missed. Also I hadn’t been eliminated or disabled so my percentage there was excellent. I still sat out during the practice session, worked hard on my own, with Petra and my friends. More Launchies are joining because they were seeing results—we were getting better and better.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 22 ~

April 5th, 2107 | 10:48 PM

Dear Diary,

The last two battles were easy Salamander victories. I came in after four minutes and was untouched by the defeated army. Condor Army, the army who beat us, was unusually good. My army was of the better teams. I had turned seven yesterday. We aren’t much for dates and calendars at Battle School but I found out how to bring up the date on my desk and noticed my birthday. The school noticed it, too. They took my measurements and issued me a new Salamander uniform and a new flash suit for the battleroom. This morning when we were dressing, Bonzo came in and announced, “Flash suits!” It was my fourth battle. The enemy was Leopard Army. It would be easy since they were a new army. It had been organized only six months ago with Pol Slattery as its commander. I put on my new battle suit and got into line; Bonzo pulled me roughly out of line and made me march at the end. I watched from the corridor.

Pol Slattery was young but he had some new ideas. He kept his soldiers moving, darting from star to star, wallsliding to get behind and above the stolid Salamanders. Bonzo was hopelessly confused, and so were his men. Leopard seemed to have men in every direction. Still I noticed that Leopard was losing a lot of men, too. What mattered, however, was that Salamander felt defeated. I slipped through the gate, oriented myself until the enemy’s gate was down, and drifted slowly eastward to a corner where I wouldn’t be noticed. I even fired at my own legs to hold them in the kneeling position. When Salamander stopped firing, Leopard had nine boys left. They formed up and started to open the Salamander gate. I aimed carefully with a straight arm like Petra taught me. Before anyone knew what was happening, I froze three of the soldiers who were about to press their helmets against the corners of the door. Some of the others spotted me but they only hit my already-frozen legs. That gave me time to shoot the last two men at the gate. The game was a draw and they hadn’t even hit my body.

Everyone in Leopard assumed that it was a Bonzo’s strategy, to leave a man till the last minute. They didn’t know that I was firing against orders. Bonzo knew and I could see the hate when he looked at me for rescuing him from total defeat. I didn’t care. It would make me easier to trade away. I learned all I needed to learn from Bonzo. How to fail in style was all he knew. What I did learn was the enemy’s gate was down, use my legs as a shield in battle, a small reserve held back until the end of game can be decisive, and soldiers can sometimes make decisions that are smarter than the orders they’ve been given. I was about to climb into bed when Bonzo came to me. He told me that he finally traded me. He was able to persuade Rat Army that my incredible place on the efficiency list is more than an accident. I’ll go to Rat Army tomorrow. I thanked him but I must’ve sounded grateful. Suddenly Bonzo swung at me and caught my jaw with an open-handed slap. It knocked me sideways and into my bunk. Then he slugged me, hard, in the stomach. I dropped down to my knees. “You disobeyed me. No good soldier ever disobeys,” Bonzo said loudly for everyone to hear. Even as I cried from the pain, I couldn’t help taking a little pleasure when I heard the murmurs rising.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 23 ~

April 6th, 2107 | 10:30 PM

Dear Diary,

The shooting practice after breakfast would have to end. Bonzo didn’t need anything that looked like a challenge now, so she’d better stay clear of me for a while. The commander of Rat Army lay sprawled on a lower bunk wearing only his desk. Salamander and Rat Army were completely opposite. The room was cluttered and noisy. After Bonzo, I thought that less discipline would be a relief. Instead, I expected quiet and order. “We doing OK, Ender Bender. I Rose de Nose, Jewboy extraordinaire, and you ain’t nothin’ but a pinheaded pinprick of a goy. Don’t you forget it.” There was a myth that Jewish generals didn’t lose wars and it was still true. “I took you on, goy, because I didn’t want people to think I only win because I got great soldiers. I want them to know that even with a little puke of a soldier like you I can still win. We only got three rules here. Do what I tell you and don’t piss in the bed.” I knew that Rose was waiting for me to ask for the third rule. I did and he said it was three rules. The message was clear: winning is more important than anything. Rose told me that my practice sessions with my Launchies are over. He’s putting me in Dink Meeker’s toon.

I found Dink in the game room, sitting and watching. I introduced myself. “I know,” he said. I also said that I was inexperienced and he looked up. “Look, Wiggin, I know all this. Why do you think I asked Rose to get you for me?” I had been picked up, asked for. Dink wanted me. “I’ve watched your practice sessions with the Launchies. I think you show some promise. Bonzo is stupid and I wanted you to get better training than Petra could give you. All she can do is shoot.” I needed to learn that. Dink didn’t want me to stop my freetime practice sessions but Rose does. According to Dink, commanders have just as much authority as you let them have. “Listen, Ender, as long as you’re part of my toon, you’re part of the battle.” He trained his toon independently from the rest of Rat Army. It was like Rose commanded one army and Dink commanded a much smaller one. Dink started the first practice asking me to demonstrate my feet-first attack position. “How can we attack lying on our backs?” they asked. He didn’t correct them. “You aren’t attacking on your back; you’re dropping downward toward them.” He’d seen what I did but he hadn’t understood what the orientation implied. We practiced attacking an enemy-held star. They hated the feet-first attack.

They began to realize how it was harder to shoot an enemy who was attacking feet first. When they were convinced of that, they practiced the maneuver more willingly. This evening was the first time I had come to one of my launchy practice sessions after a whole afternoon of work. I started to teach them what I learned today while putting new touches to the patterns: I made some boys try the maneuvers with one frozen leg, both legs frozen, or using frozen boys for leverage to change directions. Halfway through practice I noticed Petra and Dink together, watching us. Rose noted that I was going down in the standings. I told Rose that I violated orders every time I fired my gun. He didn’t know that and it made him angry. “But I turned defeat into stalemate, all by myself.” “We’ll see how you do all by yourself next time.”

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 24 ~

April 8th, 2107 | 8:00 PM

Dear Diary,

My first battle fighting as part of a toon came today. Dink’s toon lined up against the right-hand wall of the corridor and I was careful not to lean. “Wiggin!” Rose called. I felt dread come over me from throat to groin. That tingle of fear made me shudder and Rose saw it. “Shivering? Trembling? Don’t wet your pants, little Launchy.” Rose hooked his finger over the butt of my gun and pulled me to the forcefield that hid the battleroom from view. “We’ll see how well you do now, Ender. As soon as the door opens, you jump through; go straight ahead toward the enemy’s door.” That, my friend, is suicide. But, I had to follow orders. This was battle, not school. “Excellent, sir,” I replied calmly. “The direction I fire my gun is the direction of their main contingent.” Rose laughed saying that there won’t be time for me to fire. The wall vanished and I jumped up. I took hold of the ceiling handholds and threw myself out and down, speeding toward the enemy door.

It was Centipede Army and they were only beginning to emerge from the door when I was halfway across the battleroom. Most of them were able to get cover from the stars quickly but I doubled up my legs under me. I held my pistol at my crotch and fired between my legs, freezing many of them as they emerged. They flashed my legs but I had three precious seconds before they hit my body. I froze several more and flung out my arms in equal and opposite directions. The hand that held my gun ended up pointing toward the main body of Centipede Army. I fired into the mass of the enemy and they froze me. One second later I smashed into the enemy’s door forcefield and rebounded with a crazy spin. I landed in a group of enemy soldiers behind a star; they shoved me off and spun me even faster. Pretty much I rebounded out of control through the whole battle, though friction with the air slowed me down. I had no way of knowing how many I froze before getting iced but Rat Army won as usual.

After battle, Rose didn’t speak to me. I was still first in the standings, since I had frozen three, disabled two, and damaged seven. There was no more talk about insubordination and whether I could use my desk. Rose stayed in his part of the barracks and left me alone. Dink began to practice the instant emergence from the corridor. My attack on the enemy was devastating. “If one man can do that much damage, think what a toon can do.” Dink got Major Anderson to open a door in the middle of a wall instead of just the floor-level door, so we could practice launching under battle conditions. Word got around. From now on no one could take five, ten, or fifteen seconds in the corridor to size things up. The game had changed.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 25 ~

January 20th, 2108 | 7:00 PM

Dear Diary,

I stayed in the battleroom after practice. Dink usually came late to dinner. He stood near the door, watching me. He turned his back on me, took off his flash suit, and gently pushed off from the floor. He drifted slowly to the center of the room, his body relaxing almost completely. He did it for ten minutes or so. We went to the barracks and changed into regular uniform. “Well, now you know why I’m not commander.” I had wondered for a while. “Actually, they promoted me twice, and I refused.” Wait, he refused? He explained that the second time they took away his old locker, bunk, and desk, assigned him to a commander’s cabin, and gave him an army. He just stayed in the cabin until they gave in and put him back in somebody else’s army. The teachers are the enemies. They get us to fight each other, to hate each other. The game is everything. We kill ourselves, go crazy trying to beat each other, and the teachers are always there watching, discovering out weak points, deciding if we’re good enough or not. I asked him why he didn’t just go home. “Because I can’t give up the game; because I love this.” Why didn’t he just didn’t become a commander? “Never; look what it does to Rosen. The boy’s crazy. Rose de Nose. Sleeps in here with us instead of in his cabin. Why? Because he’s scared to be alone, Ender, Scared of the dark.” “It doesn’t mean he’s crazy, Dink.”

He said that I’ve only been here for a year and think we were normal. Children can lose sometimes, and nobody cares. Children aren’t in armies and they aren’t commanders. I tried to remember other children but I could only think of Stilson. I started to remember my own brother but the memory wasn’t one that I like. “Hey, I know, nobody’s supposed to talk about home. But we came from somewhere. The Battle School didn’t create us, you know. The Battle School doesn’t create anything. It just destroys.” Dink continued to say that we all remember things from home and never talk about it. “No, it’s all right. I was just thinking about Valentine. My sister,” I told Dink. I don’t think of Valentine very much, because I always—get like this. Yep, we never cry. Dink made sure to mention that. He also mentioned Bonzo. “He’s got an advanced case of Spanish honor. To be better than him, that’s an insult. To be stronger, that’s like cutting off his balls. That’s why he hates you, because you didn’t suffer when he tried to punish you. He hates you for that; he honestly wants to kill you. He’s crazy. They’re all crazy.”

I suggested he could be commander and not be crazy. “I’m not going to let the bastards run me, Ender. They’ve got you pegged, too, and they don’t plan to treat you kindly. Look what they’ve done to you so far.” I had only been promoted so far. I told him that I came for them to make me a tool; to save the world. Dink couldn’t believe I still believed the bugger menace and save the world stuff. As long as the people are afraid of the buggers, the I.F. can stay in power, and as long as the I.F. is in power, certain countries can keep their hegemony. We went into the mess hall and ate, talking about other things. I couldn’t stop thinking about Dink’s words. But I didn’t reach the same conclusion as Dink. The buggers were real. The threat was real. The I.F. controlled a lot of things, but it didn’t control the videos and the nets. Not where I grew up. I know lies can’t last long in America.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 26 ~

~ 27 ~

January 21st, 2108 | 8:40 PM

Dear Diary,

There weren’t as many boys at the evening practice yesterday, not by half. Where was Bernard? Alai grinned and Shen closed his eyes like he was meditating. “Haven’t you heard?” said a younger Launchy. “Word’s out that any Launchy who comes to your practice session won’t ever amount to anything in anybody’s army. Word’s out that the commanders don’t want any soldiers who’ve been damaged by your training.” I nodded. After about a half hour into practice, several commanders came in. They took down names. There were even fewer boys tonight. The older boys came again but there were fewer commanders. Most were members of a couple of armies. They mocked as the Launchies tried to master skills. “Listen to them. Remember the words. If you ever want to make your enemy crazy, shout that kind of stuff at them. It makes them do dumb things, to be mad. But we don’t get mad,” I told the other boys. Shen took it to heart. After each jibe from the older boys, he had a group of four Launchies recite the words, loudly, five-six times. They started singing them like nursery rhymes. Some of the older boys launched themselves from the wall for a fight. Half the boys were flashed and couldn’t fight, but the stiffness of their suits made them potentially useful. I quickly ordered my Launchies to gather in one corner of the room. Alai and I threw a frozen soldier in the face of an enemy. The frozen Launchy struck helmet first, and they rebounded off each other. The mockery was over. The rest of the older boys entered the battle. They never worked together while me and my little practice army knew each other and knew how to work together. “Go nova!” I shouted. We gathered into three groups, feet together, squatting, holding hands forming small stars against the back wall. “We’ll go around them and make for the door. Now!” The three stars burst and each boy was launching in a different direction, but angled so he could rebound off a wall and head for the door. I launched myself at the frozen soldier I used as a missile.

He wasn’t frozen now and let me catch him, whirl him around, and send him toward the door. Unfortunately I drifted in the opposite direction. Few who tried to punch me found it pretty ineffective when their bodies moved backward just as quickly as their fists moved forward. I caught one of the punchers by the arm and threw him as hard as I could. I shouted for my friends to stay where they were. Someone caught me by the foot. The tight grip gave me some leverage; I was able to stamp on the other boy’s ear and shoulder, making let go. If he had let go just as I kicked downward, it would have hurt him much less and allowed me to use the maneuver to launch. Why don’t they leave me alone so I don’t have to hurt them? Three more boys were coming and this time they were acting together. I positioned myself quickly so that two of them would take my feet and the third will deal with my hands. I grasped the third boy’s shirt and pulled him up sharply, butting him in the face with his helmet. Two boys had my legs. I threw the boy with the bleeding nose at one of them. They entangled and my leg came free. I used the other boy’s hold for leverage to kick him firmly in the groin then shove off him in the direction of the door. I didn’t get a good launch so my speed was OK, but that didn’t matter. My friends caught me and laughed. I told them practice was over.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 28 ~

January 22nd, 2108 | 10:38 PM

Dear Diary,

Since I got back early from the evening practice yesterday, I played the fantasy game. Now, the Giant’s corpse was hardly identifiable as a corpse at all unless you stood off a ways and studied it. The body had eroded into a hill. Only the crest of the Giant’s face was still visible, and it was white bone. I didn’t look forward to fighting with the wolf-children again. I was surprised that they weren’t there. I guess when you kill them once, they were gone forever. I made my way underground, through the tunnels, and to the cliff ledge overlooking the beautiful forest. I jumped down and a cloud caught me. I was carried into the castle turret room. The snake started to unweave itself from the rug again, and I didn’t hesitate. I stepped on the head of the snake and crushed it under my foot. It writhed and twisted under me, and in response I twisted and ground it deeper into the stone floor. Finally it was still. I picked it up and shook it, until it unwove itself and the pattern in the rug was gone. Still dragging the snake being me, I began to look for a way out. Instead, I found a mirror. In the mirror I saw a face that I immediately recognized. It was Peter, with blood dripping down his chin and a snake’s tail protruding from a corner of his mouth. I shouted and thrust my desk away from me.

I looked at my desk again. My figure was still there, staring into the mirror. I tried to pick up some of the furniture, to break the mirror, but it could not be moved. The mirror wouldn’t come off the wall, either. Finally, I threw the snake at it. The mirror shattered leaving a hole in the wall behind it. Dozens of tiny snakes came out of the wall and bit my figure over and over again. My figure tore the snakes frantically from itself but he collapsed and died in a writhing heap of small serpents. The screen went blank, and words appeared: PLAY AGAIN? I signed off and put my desk away.

Today, several commanders came to me or sent soldiers to tell me not to worry, most of them though the extra practice sessions were a good idea, I should keep it up. To make sure no one bothered me, they were sending a few of their older soldiers who needed extra practice to come join me. “They’re as big as most of the buggers who attacked you last night. They’ll think twice.” Instead of a dozen boys, there was forty-five this evening, more than an army. Whether it was because of the presence of older boys on my side or because they had had enough of the night before, none of our enemies came. I didn’t go back to the fantasy game but it lived within me. I kept remembering how it felt to kill the snake, grinding it, the way I tore the ear of that boy, the way I destroyed Stilson, the way I broke Bernard’s arm. Then to stand up, holding the corpse of my enemy, I find Peter’s face looking out from the mirror at me. This game knows too much about me. It tells filthy lies. I am not Peter. I don’t have murder in my heart. Even worse is the fact that I was a killer, only better at it than Peter ever was. This pleased the teachers. It’s killers they need for the bugger wars. Well, I’m the bloody bastard you wanted when you had me spawned. I’m your tool, and what difference does it make if I hate the part of me that you most need?

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 29 ~

~ 30 ~

March 12th, 2109 | 10:20 PM

Dear Diary,

Nothing has changed for a year. I am sure of it yet everything seemed to go sour. I was still the leading soldier in the standings, and no one doubted that I deserved it now. At age nine I was a toon leader in Phoenix Army, with Petra Arkanian as my commander. I still led my evening practice sessions and now they were attended by an elite group of soldiers nominated by their commanders, though any Launchy who wanted to could come. Alai was also a toon leader, in another army, and we were still good friends. Shen was not a leader, but that was no barrier in our friendships. Dink had finally accepted command and succeeded Rose the Nose in Rat Army’s command. All is going well—so why do I hate my life? I liked teaching the boys in my toon, and they followed me loyally. I had everyone’s respect. Commanders came to study what I did. Other soldiers approached my table at mess and asked permission to sit down. Even the teachers were respectful. I had so much damn respect that I wanted to scream!

I watched the friendships of old friends who’d known each other in Battle School for years, who talked and laughed about old battles and long-graduated soldiers and commanders. But with my friends there was no laughter, no remembering. Just intelligence and excitement about the game, but there was nothing beyond that. Tonight in the evening practice, Alai and I were discussing nuances of open-space maneuvers when Shen came up, took Alai by the shoulders and shouted, “Nova! Nova! Nova!” Alai burst out laughing and I watched them for a moment or two. I watched them remember the battle where the open-room maneuvering had been for real. Suddenly they remembered that I was there. “Sorry, Ender,” Shen said. “I was there, too, you know,” I said. They apologized again. Back to respect. I realized that in their friendship, I could’ve been included. How could they think I was part of it? Did I laugh? I just stood there, watching, like a teacher. That must be what they think of me, too: a teacher, legendary soldier, but not one of them. Now I was the master soldier, I was completely alone.

I called up the fantasy game. I walked through the village the dwarves built in the Giant’s corpse. It was easy to build sturdy walls, with the ribs curved just right, just enough space between them to have windows. The whole corpse was cut into apartments, opening onto the path down the Giant’s spine. The public amphitheater was carved into the pelvic bowl, and the common herd of ponies was pastured between the Giant’s legs. I vaulted the pelvic bone at the base of the public square, and walked through the pasture. In the old days, before I had first gone to the End of the World, everything was combat and puzzles to solve—defeat the enemy before he kills you, or figure out how to get past the obstacle. Now there was no war, and wherever I went, there was no obstacle. There was still the room in the castle at the End of the World. No matter how much I vowed that I would not, I always went back there, always killed the snake, always looked at my brother in the face, and always, no matter what I did next, died. It was no different this time. I tried to use the knife on the table to pry through the mortar and pull out a stone from the wall. As soon as I breached the seal of the mortar, water began to gush in through the crack, and I watched my figure struggle madly to keep from drowning. I’m trapped at the End of the World with no way out. I was despairing.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 31 ~

~ 32 ~

April 25th, 2109 | 10:22 PM

Dear Diary,

When I logged on to my desk, I saw a MAIL WAITING notification. It wasn’t from the soldier in school. I read four lines into it, then skipped to the end and read the signature. Then I went back to the beginning and read the words over and over again. Here’s the letter: ENDER, THE BASTRDS WOULDN’T PUT ANY OF MY LETTERS THROUGH TILL NOW. I MUST HAVE WRITTEN A HUNDRED TIMES BUT YOU MUST HAVE THOUGH I NEVER DID. WELL I DID. I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN YOU. I REMEMBER YOUR BIRTHDAY. I REMEMBER EVERYTHING. SOME PEOPLE MIGHT THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU’RE BEING A SOLDIER YOU ARE NOW A CRUEL AND HARD PERSON WHO LIKES TO HURT PEOPLE, LIKE THE MARINES IN THE VIDEOS, BUT I KNOW THAT ISN’T TRUE. YOU ARE NOTHING LIKE YOU-KNOW-WHO. HE’S NICER-SEEMING BUT HE’S STILL A SLUMBITCH INSIDE. MAYBE YOU SEEM MEAN, BUT IT WON’T FOOL ME. STILL PADDLING THE OLD KNEW, ALL MY LOVE TURKEY LIPS, VALDON’T WRITE BACK THEY’LL PROBLY SIKOWANALIZE YOUR LETTER.

(I copy and pasted this letter in the morning.) The letter was obviously written with the approval of the teachers. But there was no doubt it was written by Val. The spelling of psychoanalyze, the epithet slumbitch for Peter, the joke about pronouncing knew like canoe were all things that no one could know but Val. Yet they came pretty thick, as though someone wanted to make sure that I believed that the letter was genuine. It isn’t the real thing anyway. Even if she wrote it in her own blood, it isn’t the real thing because they made her write it. She’d written before, and they didn’t let any of those letters through. Those might have been real, but this was part of their manipulation. I had no control over my own life. They ran everything and they made all the choices. The one real thing, the one precious real thing was my memory of Valentine, the person who loved me before I ever played a game, who loved me whether there was a bugger war or not, and they had taken her and put her on their side. She was one of them now. I hated them and all their games. I hated them so badly that I cried.

I deleted the letter and got onto the fantasy game. I didn’t know why I was so eager to get to the End of the World. When I rode the cloud, I realized what I hated about Val’s letter. All it said was about how I was not at all like Peter. Dink was right, they were the enemy, and they loved nothing and cared for nothing. As always the serpent waited in the tower room, unraveling itself from the rug on the floor. This time I caught it in my hands, knelt before it, and gently brought the snake’s gaping mouth to my lips…and kissed. I hadn’t meant to do that. But I kissed it instead. The snake thickened and bent into a human shape. It was Valentine and she kissed me again. The snake couldn’t have been Valentine. I killed it too many times for it to be my sister. She rose from the floor of the tower room and walked to the mirror. We stood before the mirror; there stood a dragon and a unicorn, not Peter. We touched the mirror and the wall fell open, revealing a great stairway down the stairs. Wherever I went in this world, Valentine was with me.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 33 ~

~ 34 ~

May 1st, 2109 | 4:30 PM

Dear Diary,

The day had come. I’ve been given an army, Dragon Army. I’m not allowed to trade anyone in my army. There was never a Dragon Army but now they revived it and gave it to me. I changed into my flash suit and followed my army’s colors grey, orange, grey to the barracks. My army was there and I took charge. “Bunking will be arranged by seniority. Veterans to the back of the room, newest soldiers to the front,” I said. Almost thirty of my soldiers were new, straight out of their launch group, completely inexperienced. Some were even underage. At least they did me one favor—none of my soldiers were older than me. I ordered them to put on their flash suits and come to practice. After three minutes, though many still weren’t dressed, I ordered them out. “But I’m naked!” said one boy. I replied that he had to dress faster next time. It would soon be a joke in the rest of the school that Dragon Army was so dumb they had to practice getting dressed. I made them run back and forth in the corridors leading to the battleroom, so they were sweating a little, while the naked ones got dressed. I led them to the upper door that opened in the middle of the wall like in real battles. I made them jump up and use the ceiling handholds to hurl themselves into the room. “Assemble on the far wall as if you were going for the enemy’s gate.” Almost none of them knew how to establish a direct line to the target, and when they reached the far wall few of the new ones had any idea how to catch or even control their rebounds. The last boy out was a small kid, obviously underage. He took a flying leap, touched the ceiling handhold with a finger tip, and hurtled through the door with no control at all.

They were still lined up with their heads in the same direction they had been in the corridor. I took hold of what they thought as the floor and dangled from it upside down. “Why are you upside down, soldier?” I demanded. Some of them started turning the other way. “Attention!” They held still. “I said why are you upside down!” No one answered. One of them spoke that it was the direction they came out. “Well what difference is that supposed to make! What difference does it make what the gravity was back in the corridor! Are we going to fight in the corridor? Is there any gravity here?” No sir. Whatever it is, the enemy’s gate is down. I told them which way was North, South, East, and West. I ordered them to launch and form up on the ceiling. A good number launched, not toward the wall with the door in it, but toward the wall I called north. Of course, they realized their mistake but it was too late. They had to wait to rebound off a wall. While they did that, I mentally grouped them into slow learners and fast learners. The last kid who was out the door got to the wall first; they’d been right to advance him. I pointed to him. “Which way is down?” He replied quickly, “Toward the enemy door.” His name was Bean. “Get that for size or for brains? Well, Bean, you’re right onto things. Now listen to me because this matters. Nobody’s going to get through that door without a good chance of getting hit.” I began to explain how long you had in the corridors in the old days. I asked what frozen meant. Someone gave the meaning but I asked for the effect of being frozen. Bean answered correctly. “That’s true. You five, there on the end, move!” The boys looked at each other. I flashed them all. I called the next five and they moved. I also flashed them, but they kept moving toward the walls. The first five were drifting uselessly near the main group. I asked Bean if he understood. He said, “Right, sir.” When ordered to move, move fast, so if you get frozen you’ll bounce around instead of getting in the way of your own army’s operations.

I used a boy as an example for a lesson on protecting your body. I pointed out that feet aren’t much protection. I pushed him away and doubled up my knees under me. Then I flashed

~ 35 ~

my own legs. I asked them how much they saw. A lot less, they said. I thrust my gun between my legs and started to shoot them. I had them try to flash me. They finally did when I flashed more than a third of them. I asked what our attack position was and Bean responded by doubling up his legs under him and pushing to the opposite wall, flashing between his legs all the way. The rest followed suit. When they were assembled on the other wall, I taught them how legs were good for combat. I also taught how to push off with your legs frozen along with the spinning technique. For the first half hour of today I let them practice using their legs as shields and controlling their movements to work on the spin. Practice finished and Bean was waiting for me. He warned me that I shouldn’t be playing games with him. He also said that he wanted a toon because he knows what to do with it. Bean must prove to me he knows how to use other soldiers. Then he’ll get his toon. Bean smiled and replied, “That’s fair. If you actually work that way, I’ll be a toon leader in a month.” I reached down, grabbed the front of his uniform and shoved him into the wall. “When I say I work a certain way, Bean, then that’s the way I work.” He just smiled and I released him. What was I doing?! My first practice session and I’m already bullying and shoving people like Bonzo did. Why had I gone for the smallest and weakest? I now realize it all started from someone else; it started with Graff.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 36 ~

May 1st, 2109 | 10:18 PM

Dear Diary,

When I got to the battleroom last night, I was surprised to see Major Anderson waiting for me. He told me that there was a rule change. “From now on, only members of the same army may work together in a battleroom during freetime. And, therefore, the battlerooms are available only on a scheduled basis. After tonight, your next turn is in four days.” I mentioned that no one else had extra practices. Apparently, they do now. It was because that I was commanding another army. I tried to reason with him that I used to be from another army and held practices. Anderson replied saying that I wasn’t commander then. I noted that he gave me a completely green army (it’s true and you know it). I walked past Anderson toward the battleroom. Then I turned and asked, “Since these evening practices are now regularly scheduled, does it mean I can use the hook?” “We’ll see,” he said.

My army arrived and we practiced. We accomplished a lot, but at the end of it I was tired and lonely. There was a half hour before bedtime and I couldn’t go to my army’s barracks. The boys have to have a chance to be at peace, at rest, without someone listening. So I wandered to the game room. There were a few boys there to either beat their previous scores on the games or settle bets. None of the games looked interesting, but I played one anyways. I was bored so I ignored the objectives of the game and used the little player-figure, a bear, to explore the animated scenery around me. “You’ll never win that way.” I smiled. “Missed you at practice, Alai,” I said. “I was there. But they had your army in a separate place. Looks like you’re big time now, can’t play with the little boys anymore.” We joked a little. “Don’t you know? We’re enemies now. Next time I meet you in battle, I’ll whip your ass.” It was banter but I could hear a lot of truth behind it. I started to feel pain of losing my friend. The pain was worse when I wondered if Alai really felt as little pain as he showed.

“You can try. I taught you everything you know. But I didn’t teach you everything I know,” I replied. “I knew all along that you were holding something back, Ender.” I paused. My bear was in trouble on the screen. He climbed a tree. “I wasn’t, Alai. Holding anything back.” Alai replied, “I know. Neither was I.” “Salaam, Alai,” I said. “Alas, it is not to be,” he said. “What isn’t?” I asked. Alai explained that salaam meant peace be unto you. The bear died but it was a cute death with funny music. I turned around and Alai was already gone. But Alai left something behind. The memory of his kiss and having “Salaam” whispered in my ear was strong, strong like the memory of Valentine; the strongest of all.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 37 ~

May 25th, 2109 | 10:49 PM

Dear Diary,

At midnight I was awake. My army was ready and I waited for a battle. It was dark but I heard my door open and a slip of paper was laid down. I didn’t need to see what it was; battle. I ran down the corridor and was at my army’s barracks by 6:01 AM. I told them about our battle with Rabbit Army at 7:00 AM. “Strip down and get to the gym. Bring your flash suits and we’ll go to the battleroom from there.” What about breakfast? “I don’t want anybody throwing up in the battleroom.” Can we at least take a leak first? “No more than a deciliter.” They laughed. I put them through the obstacle course twice at the gym. I wanted them to warm up but not tire themselves out. I didn’t need to worry; they were in high spirits and good shape. I told them about Rabbit Army. Rabbit Army is mostly veterans but their commander, Carn Carby was appointed five months ago. I expected to see formations so I wasn’t worried. I had my soldiers relax for six minutes and then jog to the battleroom. Toons A and E were ready to grab the side handholds and flip themselves out toward the sides. B and D lined up to catch the two parallel ceiling holds and flip upward into null gravity. C toon was ready to slap the sill of the doorway and flip downward. The grey wall in front of them disappeared. Everyone had learned the wrong lesson from Bonzo’s misuse of me; they all dumped through the door immediately, so there was no chance to do anything other than name the formation they would use. There seven-eight stars. “Spread to the near stars. C try to slide the wall. If it works, A and E will follow. If it doesn’t, I’ll decide from there. I’ll be with D. Move.” We were ten seconds late and Rabbit Army was doing some kind of dance.

All my toons had their own minds; we were all thinking about how to slip past the formation and break the enemy formation into meaningless chunks. C toon slipped along the wall, coasting with bent knees facing the enemy. Crazy Tom, the leader of C toon, apparently ordered his men to flash their own legs already. Rabbit Army was able to drive back C toon’s attack, but not until Crazy Tom and his boys had carved them up. But they were behind an enemy star which meant they were going to be easy pickings. The leader of D toon (Han Tzu known as Hot Soup) slid along the lip of the star to where I knelt. He asked if his strategy might work. “Do it.” I explained to him that I would take B south to get behind them. I shouted, “A and E slow on the walls!” I made my way toward E toon’s star. I led them down against the south wall. We rebounded in unison and came up behind two stars that Carn Carby’s soldiers were defending. Rabbit Army was gone, just a little cleanup left to do. I had my toon leaders do the honors at the gate—four helmets at the corners, and Crazy Tom to pass through the gate. The lights went full and Major Anderson came in. He gave me the teacher hook and I thawed my army first. Then I assembled them into toons and thawed the enemy. Carn Carby was a twelve-year-old. He wasn’t cocky like most who are commanders at eleven years. I told my toon leaders that I don’t expect practice until 7:45 AM and that practice would be over early so they could shower.

We had practice and I congratulated my army. I told them their mistakes and what would’ve happened if our enemy was better. The toon leaders worked and I moved from group to group to make suggestions and help out soldiers. I released them early and discussed tactics with my toon leaders for their soldiers. Then, I changed into my uniform. I walked into the commander’s mess hall exactly ten minutes late on purpose. Some of them noticed how small I was and saw the dragons on my uniform. By the time I got my food and sat at a table, the room

~ 38 ~

was silent. I ate slowly and the room went back to life. When I was nearly done with my food, someone touched my shoulder. “Mind if I sit?” I didn’t have to look to know it was Dink Meeker. We talked for a bit about my victory and Carn Carby. “It’s good to know I have a friend here,” I said. But I wasn’t sure if Dink and I were friends anymore. Carn Carby made a point to come greet me before lunch period ended. “Right now I’m in disgrace,” he said frankly. “They won’t believe me when I tell them you did things that nobody’s ever seen before. So I hope you beat the snot out of the next army you fight. As a favor to me.” I thanked him for talking to me. He also said that he thinks that they’re all treating me badly. New commanders were usually welcomed when they first get into the mess hall. “But that’s life. Make them eat dust.” Carn Carby left and I mentally added him to my list of people who qualified as human beings.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 39 ~

May 26th, 2109 | 10:10 PM

Dear Diary,

I slept very well last night. I slept so well that I didn’t wake up until the lights came on. I took a shower and when I came out, I realized there was a slip of paper on the floor. There was a battle with Petra Arkanian, Phoenix Army, 7:00 AM. My old army, the one I had left less than four weeks before. I knew their formations backward and forward. Partly because of my influence, they were the most flexible of armies, responding relatively quickly to new situations. Phoenix Army would be the best to cope with my army’s attack. The teachers are intending to make my life interesting. It was already 6:30 AM. I grabbed my flash suit and stood in the doorway of my army’s barracks. I told them to be ready because we were doing it again. They couldn’t believe it. Nobody ever had battles for two days in a row. I handed the paper to Fly Molo, the leader of A toon. Hot Soup demanded why I didn’t tell them earlier. I answered with a joke about them needing a shower since our stink knocked out Rabbit Army.

Petra was not Carn Carby. Her patterns were more flexible and responded much more quickly to my improvised, unpredictable attack. As a result, I had three boys flashed and nine disabled at the end of the battle. Petra wasn’t gracious about bowing over my hand at the end, either. The anger in her eyes said something along the lines, I was your friend, and you humiliate me like this? I pretended that I didn’t see her anger. I figured that after a few more battles, she’d realize that in fact she had scored more hits against me than I expected anyone ever would again. And I was still learning from her. In practice today, I taught my toon leaders how to counter the tricks Petra had pulled on us. We would be friends soon again. I hope.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 40 ~

May 31st, 2109 | 5:28 PM

Dear Diary,

It’s been seven days now. Seven battles won and zero battles lost. In two of my battles I had suffered not one soldier frozen or disabled. I had beaten top armies by unheard-of margins. It was no longer possible for other commanders to ignore me. A few would sit with me at every meal, carefully trying to learn from me how I had defeated my most recent opponents. I told them that few of them would know how to train their soldiers and their toon leaders to duplicate what I could do. And while I talked with a few commanders, larger groups gathered around my opponents, trying to find out how I might be beaten. Many also hated me. They couldn’t beat me in the battle room so they attacked me where I was just a little boy, not a giant. I persuaded myself to accept them as another form of praise. Already the other armies were beginning to imitate me. Most soldiers now attacked with knees tucked under them; formations were breaking up now, and more commanders were sending out toons to slip along the walls. However, they hadn’t grasped onto the five-toon organization.

I started to use the video room. Most of the vids were a waste of time. Heroic music, close-ups of commanders and medal-winning soldiers, confused shots of marines invading bugger installations. But here and there I found useful sequences: ships, like points of light, maneuvering in the dark of space, or, better, the lights on shipboard plotting screens, showing the whole battle. I began to see how well the buggers used seemingly random flight paths to create confusion, how they used decoys and false retreats to draw the I.F. ships into traps. Some of the battles were cut into many scenes in different videos so I took some time to piece them all together. They never showed the whole battle where Mazer Rackham won the Second Invasion. Word got around that I was watching the war videos. During the last hour of practice today, only a few hours after my army won its seventh battle, Major Anderson came into the video room. He handed a slip of paper to one of the commanders sitting there, and then spoke to me. “Colonel Graff wishes to see you in his office immediately.” I followed Anderson through the corridors. We came to where Graff had taken root on a swivel chair bolted to the steel floor. His belly spilled over both armrests now, even when he sat upright. Graff hadn’t been this fat when I first met him. He mentioned my seven battles without losing and my unusually high scores. He asked what I attribute my success. “You gave me an army that does whatever I can think for it to do.” I explained what I taught them but I don’t expect to keep winning with the same skills.

They’ve noticed that I’ve been studying the videos of the bugger wars. I told them I wanted to learn strategy. “Those videos were created for propaganda purposes. All our strategies have been edited out.” I know. Then, they asked why I don’t play the fantasy game. “Because I won.” They insisted that you never win everything in that game. “I won.” They tried to reason with me. I told them that they did their job in making me the best soldier. When are they going to put me up against a good army? Anderson answered that to me. “Now,” he said. It was ten minutes from the time I spoke with Graff.

To be continued… (Yeah, I’m being a little dramatic here now.)

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 41 ~

~ 42 ~

May 31st, 2109 | 6:00 PM

Dear Diary,

I got to my army’s barracks five minutes later. Most were dressing after showers; some had gone to the game room or video room to wait for lunch. I sent three of my younger boys to call everyone in, and made everyone else dress for battle as quickly as they could. “This one’s hot and there’s no time. They gave Bonzo notice about twenty minutes ago, and by the time we get to the door they’ll have been inside for a good five minutes at least.” The boys weren’t happy at all. They complained loudly in the slang that they usually avoided around the commander. What they doing to us? They be crazy, neh? “Forget why, we’ll worry about that tonight. Are you tired?” Yes, they are tired. They worked hard at practice today. Fly Molo answered that for me. “Same day nobody ever do two battles!” Crazy Tom said. I replied using the same tone that no one ever beat Dragon Army. Win first, ask questions later.

There were no stars at all; there was just empty, empty space in a bright room; nowhere to hide. I signaled them to be silent. With the door open, the enemy could hear us. I pointed all around the door, telling them that Salamander Army was deployed against the wall around the door, where they couldn’t be seen but could easily flash anyone who came out. I motioned my army to step back. I pulled a few of the taller boys, including Crazy Tom, and made them kneel, not squatting back on their heels, but fully upright, so they formed an L with their bodies. I flashed them. I selected Bean, handed him Tom’s gun, and made him kneel on Tom’s frozen legs. Then I pulled Bean’s hands, each holding a gun, through Tom’s armpits. Now the rest of the boys understood. Tom was a shield and Bean was inside. Bean was still vulnerable but he had time. I assigned two of my boys to throw Tom and Bean through the door, but I signaled them to wait. I went through my army and assigned groups of four—a shield, a shooter, and two throwers. Two at a time the shield-pairs went through the door, backward so that the shield would be between the shooter and the enemy. The enemy opened fired at once but they mostly hit the frozen boy in the front. We had an easy time picking off the enemy. The throwers jumped through the door and got handholds on the same wall with the enemy, shooting at an angle so that the Salamanders were confused who to shoot.

When Major Anderson came out to give me the hook, I was angry. “I thought you were going to put us against an army that could match us in a fair fight.” Anderson didn’t answer. I called onto Bean. “If you had commanded Salamander Army, what would you have done?” He answered, “Keep a shifting pattern of movement going in front of the door. You never hold still when the enemy knows exactly where you are.” I told Anderson, “As long as you’re cheating, why don’t you train the other army to cheat intelligently!” I thawed both armies at once and dismissed my army. I realized that Bonzo wouldn’t know that I was angry at the teachers. Spanish honor. Bonzo would only know that he had been defeated; that I had had my youngest soldier publicly state what Bonzo should’ve done to win; and that I hadn’t stayed to receive Bonzo’s surrender.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 43 ~

June 1st, 2109 | 5:46 PM

Dear Diary,

Last night I talked to Bean. I sent him a message from my desk. I had wanted to talk about Bean leading a toon. “Remember four weeks ago, Bean? When you told me to make you a toon leader?” I reminded Bean. “Eh,” he replied. “I’ve made five toon leaders and five assistants since then. And none of them was you. Was I right?” Bean agreed. “So tell me how you’ve done in these eight battles.” Bean mentioned that the eighth battle was the first time he’d been disabled, but the computer listed him getting eleven hits before he had to stop. Bean never had less than five hits in a battle. “Why did they make you a soldier so young, Bean?” He countered me saying that he was no younger than I was. I asked again.

“I don’t know,” he said. I know and he knows. He sighed. “I’ve tried to guess, but they’re just guesses. You’re —very good. They knew that, they pushed you ahead—” I cut him off. “Tell me why, Bean.” Bean sat on the floor and stared at my feet. “Because they need us, that’s why. Because they need somebody to beat the buggers. That’s the only thing they care about.” “It’s important that you know that, Bean. Because most boys in this school think the game is important for itself, but it isn’t. It’s only important because it helps them find kids who might grow up to be real commanders, in the real war. But as for the game, screw that. That’s what they’re doing. Screwing up the game.” I started to explain that we had our first battle nine weeks earlier than it should have come. A game every day. Now there were two games in the same day. They don’t care at all about the rules of the game. No one has ever destroyed so many enemies and kept so many of his own soldiers whole in the history of the game. “You’re the best, Ender.” I shook my head. “Maybe, but it was no accident that I got the soldiers I got. Launchies, rejects from other armies, but put them together and my worst soldier could be a toon leader in another army. They’ve loaded things my way, but now they’re loading it all against me. Bean, they want to break us down.” “They can’t break you down.” “You’d be surprised.” I breathed in sharply like I was in pain. Bean looked at me; I’m guessing that he is trying to comprehend what he just saw.

I told him that there’s a limit to how many ideas I can come up with every day. Someone would come up with something to throw at me that I haven’t thought of before. I can’t lose any game; that’s the worst that can happen. I wanted him to think of solutions to problems we haven’t seen yet; because there’s no one who can think better and faster than him. I showed him my desk. There were twelve names, two or three from each toon. “Choose five of these, one from each toon. They’re a special squad, and you’ll train them. Only during extra practice sessions. Talk to me about what you’re training them to do. Don’t spend too long on any one thing. Most of the time you and your squad will be part of the whole army, part of your regular toons. But when I need you. When there’s something to be done that only you can do.” The lights went out. I decided to let Bean sleep in my room. He might even hear the next slip of paper arrive for the next day’s battle.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 44 ~

June 6th, 2109 | 10:10 PM

Dear Diary,

Two days ago Bean and his squad were working on attacks without guns, disarming enemies with their feet. I had helped them with some techniques from gravity personal combat. Yesterday, Bean had a new toy. It was a deadline, one of the thin, almost invisible twines used during construction in space to hold two objects together. This one was just a bit longer than a wall of the battleroom, and yet it looped easily around Bean’s waist. It wasn’t useful as a tripwire but he made an awesome discovery. He got the idea of using it to change direction in midair. He fastened it around his waist and had the other end fastened to a handhold. He slipped a few meters away and launched himself straight out. The twine caught him, changed his direction abruptly, and swung him in an arc that crashed him against the wall. He was screaming. It took me a while to find out that he was screaming excitedly, not painfully. We all stopped work and watched Bean practice with the twine. The changes in direction were stunning, especially when you didn’t know where to look for the twine. When he used the twine to wrap himself around a star, he attained speeds so one had ever seen before.

I dismissed evening practice at 9:40 PM. I was tired but happy to see something new. They were tired, too—a battle every day for more than four weeks, often in situations that tested their abilities to the utmost. But they were proud, happy, and close. They never lost and trusted each other. We walked the corridor until Petra called me. If I stopped to talk with her, my army would walk away and leave me behind. I made her walk with me. I tensed up when she came near. Was she one of them, one of the ones who hated me enough to hurt me? “A friend of yours wanted me to warn you. There are some boys who want to kill you.” Some of my soldiers perked up at the news. “Ender, they can do it. He said they’ve been planning it ever since you went commander—” I cut her off. “Ever since I beat Salamander, you mean.” “I hated you after you beat Phoenix Army, too, Ender. It’s true. He told me to take you aside today and warn you, on the way back from the battleroom, to be careful tomorrow because—” I cut her off, again. I told her that there were a dozen boys following behind us that could have taken me in the corridor. She wasn’t happy when I said that. “Don’t you know who your friends are?” She pushed her way through Dragon Army and got ahead of me.

Crazy Tom asked if what Petra said was true. “All talk,” I said. But I knew it wasn’t. Petra knew something and what I saw tonight wasn’t my imagination. Crazy Tom insisted that all five toon leaders would walk me to my cabin. One ran ahead and opened my door. They checked the room, made me promise to lock it, and left me just before light out. There was a message on my desk. DON’T EVER BE ALONE. EVER.—DINK. Well then, Dink was still my friend. Don’t worry; they won’t do anything to me. I have my army. But in the darkness of my dreams, I don’t have my army.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 45 ~

June 8th, 2109 | 3:00 PM

Dear Diary,

You’re probably wondering how I’m able to write to you so early. I’m on Earth, you see. How did that happen? Well, I’ll tell you how. First, we won the battle with Pol Slattery’s Badger Army. There was a new wrinkle in the game, too—when they disabled or damaged an enemy, eh thawed in about five minutes, the way it worked in practice. Only a completely frozen enemy is out of battle. Crazy Tom was the one who realized this was happening when we started to get hit from behind by people we thought couldn’t. At the end of battle, Slattery shook my hand and said, “I’m glad you won. If I ever beat you, Ender, I want to do it fair.” I had meant to shower right away but I was also tired. I woke up at the beginning of lunchtime and went into the showers. Even when I heard them come into the bathroom I paid no attention. I was letting the water pour over my head and body; the muffled sound of footsteps was hardly noticeable. I thought lunch might be over. There were seven of them, leaning back against the metal sinks or standing closer to the showers, watching me. Bonzo stood in front of them. I turned off the shower and reached for the towel. It wasn’t there. Bernard was holding it. The towel was the opening point. “Your move,” I said. “This is no game. We’re tired of you, Ender. You graduate today. On ice,” Bernard said. Bonzo was the real threat however. Softly, I said, “Bonzo, your father would be proud of you.” He stiffened. “He would love to see you now, come to fight a naked boy in a shower, smaller than you, and you brought six friends. He would say, Oh, what honor.” I continued. “Be proud, Bonito, pretty boy. You can go home and tell your father, Yes, I beat up Ender Wiggin, who was barely ten years old, and I was thirteen. And I had only six of my friends to help me, and somehow we managed to defeat him, even though he was naked and wet and alone—Ender Wiggin is so dangerous and terrifying it was all we could do not to bring two hundred.” Bonzo began to take off his uniform; we were going to fight even. He sent his other boys to watch the door.

I stepped back, flipped the showerhead so it turned outward, and turned on pure hot water. The steam began to rise. I did the same to the other showerheads. “I’m not afraid of hot water,” said Bonzo. Actually, it’s the heat I want. I still had the soap on so I would be slippery. “Stop it!” Someone yelled from outside. It was Dink Meeker. Bonzo couldn’t be stopped. I stepped back and let my fear show on my face. “Bonzo, don’t hurt me. Please.” Bonzo was waiting for me to say that. He swung his leg as if to kick, but changed it to a leap at the last moment. Bonzo tried to grip me but I slipped around. I was still in his grasp, however. Bonzo expected my kick to his crotch; he already rose on his toes and thrust his hip backward from my reach. That would bring his face closer. Instead of kicking, I lunged upward and jammed my head into Bonzo’s face. His nose was bleeding and he was gasping. I leaned back against the wall behind me and jumped up. My feet landed in Bonzo’s belly and chest. I spun in the air and landed on my toes and hands; I flipped over, scooted under Bonzo, and I kicked upward into Bonzo’s crotch. I connected, hard and sure. He didn’t react at all, except that his body rose a little in the air. Bonzo collapsed and sprawled under a spray of steaming water. Dink made sure I got out of the shower. Then, the medics came. Where were they when blood could have been prevented? No one would help me. I was on my own. Dink led me to my room and asked if I was hurt anywhere. I shook my head. “You took him apart. I thought you were dead meat, the way he grabbed you. But you took him apart. If he’d stood up longer, you would’ve killed him.” I saw

~ 46 ~

the dead look in Bonzo’s eye when I kicked upward to his groin. He was already finished. I started crying.

There was another battle when I awoke. William Bee (Griffin Army) and Talo Momoe (Tiger Army) were against Dragon Army. I handed the paper to Hot Soup. He was just as angry as I could have been. We waited for the battle. The door disappeared. I had Bean take his squad and tell me what was on the other side of the star. The star blocked our view. Bean used his twine to swing around it and come back. He came without anyone flashing him. “Hey! We be hungry, come and feed us! Your ass is draggin’! Your ass is Dragon!” I decided to do a formation. It was going to be special. It started as a square with a cylinder behind it. Then, it split into two. Before the enemy even knew it, we won the game. I told Anderson that I beat him again but he said that was nonsense, I beat the other team. How stupid does he think I am? Crazy Tom asked me when was next practice. I told him never; the game was over. Bean knocked on my door. I told him to go away but I eventually let him come in. Bean had been transferred as commander of Rabbit Army; Carn Carby had graduated today. I told him that I hurt Bonzo badly. He told me that Bonzo was graduated and going back home. The door opened and Colonel Graff and Major Anderson were there. Anderson handed me sheet of paper. I had been graduated…to Command School. Not Pre-Command; Command School. Bean grabbed Graff’s sleeve. “Nobody goes to Command School until they’re sixteen!” Graff shook off Bean’s hand. When we got to the shuttle, I found out that Anderson had become a colonel. We were going home instead of Command School, first. I was getting a short landside leave. We landed in Florida. The pull of real gravity was unfamiliar; I hated it. I wanted to go back home and that was Battle School, the only place in the universe that I belong to.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 47 ~

August 4th, 2109 | 5:00 PM

Dear Diary,

I didn’t want anyone to visit me, but they managed to convince me to allow Valentine to visit me. I made sure they promised our conversation to not be bugged (you know spied on with sound devices). I had built a raft with my own hands. I saw Val coming towards me. I didn’t wave or smile, but I was glad to see her. She sat on the raft with me. Our conversation was quite long so I will make it nice and short for you. She noticed that I looked sun-browned and strong. Well, I explained the strong part came from Battle School. The sun-browned part comes from the lake. You see, I like to spend a lot of time in the lake. It makes me feel weightless, which I miss, and the land slopes upward around the lake, like a bowl. I pretty much lived in a bowl for the past four years. Valentine squeezed my knee, the spot that I used to be always ticklish. I caught her wrist strongly then relaxed. I had forgotten that she used to tickle me. I feel like we’re strangers; I haven’t seen her in a while and so much has changed.

I told her that I’d been learning preemptive strategies. I was very good and no one ever beat me. “Who would expect less? You’re a Wiggin,” Val said. Then she told me what she and Peter were doing. They had made fake profiles on the web and were starting political debates. Now, they were widely known on the internet, writing columns. Peter is what, fourteen? Already planning to take over the world? Val replied, “He thinks he’s Alexander the Great. And why shouldn’t he be? Why shouldn’t you be, too?” Then, Valentine confessed to me that they want her to encourage me to go on with my studies. They were games, not studies. Just when I could be happy, they stick in another knife. I told her what I’ve noticed in all the bugger videos I watched. That’s when I told her why I hated myself. “In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it’s impossible to believe, and not love them the way they love themselves. And then, in that very moment when I love them—” Valentine finished my sentence saying that I ‘beat them’. “No, you don’t understand. I destroy them. I make it impossible for them to ever hurt me again. I grind them and grind them until they don’t exist.” She refused to believe.

Around the end of our conversation we talked about Mazer Rackham and I argued that he happened to be at the right place at the right time. He was a reserve after all and what happened was an accident. I had wanted someone else to save the world, not me. Someone else could be the accident that saves the world, like Mazer Rackham. When I’m out there and everyone’s depending on me to do it, I won’t be able to do it. Val argued that if I couldn’t do it, no one can. If I try and lose then it isn’t my fault. If I don’t try and we lose, then it’s my entire fault. I could never beat Peter, no matter what I said or did. “He was years older than you. And stronger,” Val reasoned. “So are the buggers,” I replied. I knew that there was always someone who could destroy me. I hadn’t won because there was always Peter, the undefeated champion. Val thought I wanted to beat Peter. I didn’t. “I want him to love me,” I said. Dusk came and she got the raft to dock. “I love you, Ender. More than ever. No matter what you decide.” I didn’t say anything but I knew what she said was true. She loves me, no matter what. I’m going to tell Graff now about my decision. We’re going to Command School.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 48 ~

~ 49 ~

August 5th, 2109 | 8:00 PM

Dear Diary,

Graff and I were in the car on our way to our launch. Graff told me about the place I had stayed at. “Back when the population was growing, they kept this area in woods and farms; watershed land. The rainfall here starts a lot of rivers flowing, a lot of underground water moving around. The Earth is deep, and right to the heart it’s alive, Ender. We people only live on the top, like the bugs that live on the scum of the still water near the shore.” I didn’t say anything so he continued to speak. Graff explained why they train their commanders the way they do. He explains that they have to be isolated so that they weren’t distracted. “Keep you separate. And it works. But it’s so easy, when you never meet people, when you never know the Earth itself, when you live with metal walls keeping out the cold of space; it’s easy to forget why Earth is worth saving. Why the world of people might be worth the price you pay.” He brought me here back to Earth, for three months, to make me love Earth. The trick of using Valentine was to make me remember that I’m not going to school for myself. Well then, all his tricks worked.

We took a helicopter to the I.F. spaceport at Stumpy Point. Graff led me through a lot of paths. His authority was a little plastic ball; he dropped it into chutes, and doors opened. People stood up and saluted and the chutes spat out the ball and he went on. I noticed that at first everyone watched Graff but as we got deeper, everyone watched me. Graff strapped himself into the shuttle seat next to me. He was going with me all the way to Command School. I started to think a long train of thoughts. I never sought power in Battle School but I always had it. I never used to it to hurt anyone, except perhaps Bean but we became friends. He replaced my lost friend, Alai, and Valentine. Valentine loved me, no matter what. That thought led me back to Earth. Earth was the quiet lake with fish jumping and crickets chirping. There would be a girl’s voice there; the voice is what I’ll be fighting to keep alive. My eyes were closed. I felt Graff tough my hand and that surprised me so I stiffened. Graff withdrew his hand quickly. That was another calculated gesture. He was creating a commander out of a little boy.

In a few hours the shuttle reached the IPL satellite (Inter-Planetary Launch) in a few hours. The IPL was a city of three thousand inhabitants. Graff and the tug’s captain spoke with each other. The captain had thought that when the destination was unknown, it’s for ISL (Inter-Stellar Launch). Graff told him it was going to be I.F. Command this time. He told the captain that the computer knows where it is and handed him the plastic ball. “And I’m supposed to close my eyes during the whole voyage, so I don’t figure out where we are?” the captain asked. Graff replied, “Oh, no, of course not. I.F. Command is on the minor planet Eros, which should be about three months away from here at the highest possible speed, which is the speed you’ll use, of course.” The captain questioned the clearance for him to known this. Well, he didn’t so when we arrive at Eros, the captain will be assigned to permanent duty there. The captain wasn’t at all happy (a little swearing, you know). I’ll update you on my voyage there. Three months! I bet it’s going to be boring.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 50 ~

November 3rd, 2109 | 8:30 PM

Dear Diary,

I had Graff tell me what they knew of the buggers. The buggers have the same genetic material for sure. They also look insect-like (like ants on Earth). Their skeletal structure has changed over the years. The buggers have starships and artificial lighting like us, that’s for sure. The thing that’s strange is that they don’t have any communication devices or equipment on the ships. We humans need to talk and use communication devices. The buggers obviously communicate with their minds. Their communication was instantaneous. Light speed was no barrier. “When Mazer Rackham defeated their invasion fleet, they all closed up shop; at once. There was no time for a signal. Everything just stopped,” Graff said. I asked Graff about the light speed communication we learned long ago. He couldn’t explain since he didn’t understand it. However, they built the ansible (used to be called Philotic Parallax Instantaneous Communicator). Most people don’t know the ansible exists. With the ansible ships could talk to each other even when they’re across the solar system or galaxy. The buggers can do it without machines.

Graff mentioned that he was telling me things I can’t know and that made me angry. He knows that I can keep a secret. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I can’t be trusted with important information. However, we talked about our starships and the Third Invasion. We are the Third Invasion. This time we are the ones making the first move. Some of the ships have been traveling for seventy years, some for thirty years, and some for twenty years. Every starship has fighters within it. They are decelerating because they’re almost to the buggers’ homes. The first ships will arrive there soon but with outdated equipment. Still, they had some pretty good weapons that the buggers have never seen before. They will arrive within the next five years. Everything’s ready at the I.F. Command. All they’re missing is a commander to command the ships. That would be me. “Of course, Ender, what we’ve got right now is nobody.” Another one of Graff’s games was to make me believe that it all depends on me, so I can’t slack off. Still, it might also be true. It was what Val had wanted for me. Five years until the fleet arrives, and I don’t know anything yet. I confessed that I just wanted to go swim in the lake. Graff promised me that the lake will be there when the war is over. Plus, I would have guards watching over me since I would be too young for security clearance. We both laughed.

Graff was only acting like a friend. Everything he did was a lie or a cheat calculated to turn me into an efficient fighting machine. I’ll become exactly the tool he wants me to be. But at least I won’t be fooled into it. I’ll do it because I choose to, not because he tricked me. Graff is a sly bastard.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 51 ~

November 6th, 2109 | 10:00 PM

Dear Diary,

The tug reached Eros before we could see it. The captain showed us the visual scanner, and then superimposed the heat scan on the same screen. We were practically on top of it—only four thousand kilometers out. Eros was invisible if it didn’t shine with reflected sunlight. The captain docked our ships on one of the three landing platforms that circled Eros. We couldn’t land directly on it because Eros had enhanced gravity and the tug could never escape the gravity well. The captain didn’t want to leave his tug but he had to. Graff and I felt like we were prisoners finally paroled from jail (seriously, you try sitting there for three months. It isn’t fun). When we boarded the shuttle that would take us to the surface of Eros, we repeated perverse misquotations of lines from the videos that the captain had watched endlessly, and laughed like madmen. The captain withdrew and pretended to go to sleep. I asked Graff one last question.

“Why are we fighting the buggers?” Graff explained that there were many reasons. “Because they have an overcrowded system and they’ve got to colonize. Because they can’t stand the thought of other intelligent life in the universe. Because they don’t think we are intelligent life. Because they have some weird religion. Because they watched out old video broadcasts and decided we were hopelessly violent. All kinds of reasons.” I asked what Graff believed. I wanted to know, even if Graff doesn’t think it’s necessary. Graff believes that war started with us and the buggers not being able to communicate with each other. The buggers didn’t have a language; no words, signals, or numbers. We humans did everything to communicate with them, but they don’t have the machinery to know we were signaling. Maybe the buggers were trying to think to us, and they can’t understand why we don’t respond. “If the other fellow can’t tell you his story, you can never be sure he isn’t trying to kill you,” Graff said. What if we left them alone? Graff reasoned that they came to us first. If they were going to leave us, they would have done so hundreds of years ago, before the First Invasion. “Maybe they didn’t know we were intelligent life. Maybe—” Graff cut me off. The discussion we were having had been discussed for centuries. Nobody knows the answer.

The real decision is inevitable: If one of us has to be destroyed, let’s make sure we’re the ones alive at the end. Nature can’t evolve a species that hasn’t a will to survive. The race as a whole can never decide to cease to exist. So if we can, we’ll kill every last one of the buggers. If they can, they’ll kill every last one of us. “As for me, I’m in favor of surviving,” I said. Graff replied saying that that was why I was here.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 52 ~

November 18th, 2109 | 10:10 PM

Dear Diary,

I hate Eros; everything about it feels so wrong. I’m fine with the closed in space but my goodness; you can see the tunnel floors sloping downwards. There was also something disturbing about the proportions of the rooms—the ceilings were too low for the width and the tunnels were too narrow. Worst of all, it was the number of people that bothers me. Back in Battle School I knew everyone and saw them every day. Here, there are thousands of people in the tunnels with unfamiliar faces. I never saw the same face twice. It wasn’t crowded or anything but I’m constantly surrounded by strangers. I saw the Command School students often but I never attended any classes regularly. I would attend a lecture here or there, but I was usually tutored by one teacher after another. Occasionally, I would learn a process by another student which I met once and never saw again. They were isolating me again. This time, they weren’t setting the other students to hate me; they were giving me no opportunity to make friends. That’s fine.

I studied and learned quickly and well. Astrogation and military history were like drinking water; abstract mathematics was more difficult. However, when I got a problem that involved patterns in space and time, I found that my intuition was more reliable than my calculation. Often I could see the solution was to be proved after minutes or hours of manipulating numbers. For entertainment, there was the simulator. It was the most perfect videogame I ever played. In the beginning I played at a tactical level. I controlled a single fighter in continuous maneuvers to find and destroy an enemy. The computer-controlled enemy is pretty smart and powerful. Every time I tried a tactic, the computer used it against me within minutes. The game was a holographic display, and my fighter was represented by a tiny light. The enemy was another light of a different color. They danced and spun and maneuvered through a cube of space that must’ve been ten meters to a side. The controls were powerful, too. I could rotate the display in any direction, so I could watch from any angle, and I could move to the center so that the duel took place nearer or farther from me.

As my skills at controlling the fighter’s speed, direction of movement, orientation, and weapons were mastered, the game got more complex. I would have objectives, obstacles like debris, more than one enemy ship, and I would have to worry about fuel and limited weapons. When I mastered the on-fighter game, they allowed me to step back into the four-fighter squadron. I spoke commands to simulated pilots of four fighters and instead of carrying out the computer’s instructions, I set my own tactics. At any time, I could take personal command of one of the fighters for a short time and at first I did that a lot. When I did that, my other three squadrons were destroyed soon. As the game got harder and harder, I had to spend time commanding the squadron. When I did that, I win more and more often. Isn’t this game awesome?

You buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 53 ~

December 21st, 2110 | 8:30 PM

Dear Diary,

It’s been a year at Command School. The simulator I told you about last year? Well, I mastered it 100%. I could run the simulator at any of the fifteen levels, from controlling an individual fighter to commanding a fleet. The battleroom was to Battle School, so the simulator was to Command School. The classes here were valuable, but the real education was the game. People dropped by in from time to time to watch me play. They never spoke—hardly anyone did, unless they had something specific to teach me. They would stay, silently watching me run through a difficult simulation, and then leave just as I finished. I wanted to ask them what they were doing. Judging me? Determining whether you want to trust the fleet to me? Just remember that I didn’t ask for it.

I found out that a lot of the things I learned at Battle School were transferred to the simulator. I would routinely reorient the simulator every few minutes, rotating it so that I didn’t get trapped into an up-down orientation. I constantly reviewed my position from the enemy point of view. It was exhilarating at last to have such control over the battle, to be able to see every point of it. It was also frustrating to have so little control, too. The computer-controlled fighters were only as good as the computer allowed. They took initiative. They had no intelligence. I want my toon leaders, so that I could count on some of the squadrons doing well without having my constant supervision. By now, I could play the game as if the machine were a natural part of my body.

Today, I ate a meal with Graff and asked him if that was all the simulator does. “Is what all?” Graff replied. I told him that it was easy and it hasn’t got any harder for a while. “Oh,” was all he said. He seemed unconcerned. But then, Graff always seemed unconcerned. Hopefully tomorrow gets more interesting. The simulation is starting to get a bit boring.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 54 ~

December 22nd, 2110 | 8:24 PM

Dear Diary,

Today, the old man was sitting cross-legged in the center of my room when I woke up. His face was expressionless. You’re probably thinking that this man must be crazy. The door was also locked, by the way. Is showered and dressed. The man remained silent all throughout that. The man looked about sixty (anyways, really old). He had a day’s growth of white whiskers that grizzled his face only slightly less than his close-cut hair. His face sagged a little and his eyes were surrounded by creases and lines. I gave up. “All right; why’s the door locked?” I asked. He continued to stare at me blankly. I started to think this was a game. I started to get angry so I went through some relaxing exercises on the door. I calmed down. It seemed to go on for hours, me not talking, and the old man seeming to be a mindless mute. I began to do a series of exercises around the room. I was practicing lunges and kicks.

One of my moves brought me near the old man, like last time, but this time he shot out his hand and seized my left leg in the middle of a kick. I landed heavily on the floor. He just sat there, cross-legged, breathing normally, as if nothing happened. I went back to my exercises and he just watched. I got tired and angry so I went to my bed and grabbed my desk. When I leaned over to pick up my desk, a hand jabbed between my thighs and the other hand grabbed my hair. I was upside down. My face and shoulders were pressed into the floor by the man’s knee. My back was bent and my legs were pinned by his arms. In less than two seconds he had completely defeated me. “All right. You win.” He thrust his knee downward painfully. “I surprised you one, Ender Wiggin. Why didn’t you destroy me immediately afterward? Just because I looked peaceful? You turned your back on me. Stupid. You have learned nothing. You have never had a teacher,” the he said in a soft, raspy voice. “There is no teacher but the enemy. No one but the enemy will tell you what the enemy is going to do. No one but the enemy will ever teach you how to destroy and conquer.” The old man continued telling me that only the enemy will tell you their strengths and teach you your weaknesses. He let go of my legs and they fell to the floor.

I knelt on all fours for a moment and lashed out my right arm toward him. He danced back and my hand grabbed the air. His foot shot forward to catch my chin bit it wasn’t there. I was lying on my back, spinning on the floor, and when he was off balance from the kick, I smashed my feet into his other leg. He fell but close enough to hit me in the face. I managed to get to the door. He was sitting cross-legged but he was smiling. “Better, this time, boy, but slow. You will have to be better with a fleet than you are with your body or no one will be safe with you in command. Lesson learned?” He mentioned to me that he will program my battles on the simulator from now on. He also said that in this school, it has always been that an older student chooses a younger student to be his companion and teaches him everything he knows. “You’re too old to be a student,” I said. The old man waved off that comment. One can never be too old to be the student of the enemy. When he palmed the door open, I leaped into the air and kicked his lower back with both feet. He collapsed then slowly got up. Soon, I found myself on the floor near the opposite wall. I turned enough to see the old man at the doorway grinning. I grinned back at him. I asked for his name. “Mazer Rackham,” he said and he was gone.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 55 ~

~ 56 ~

December 30th, 2110 | 8:16 PM

Dear Diary,

Mazer Rackham was either with me or I was alone. He was at meals, tutorials, at the simulator, and in my room at night. When Mazer wasn’t in my room, it was locked until he came back. What I enjoyed the most was when he took me through the videos of the old battles from the First Invasion and the defeats of the I.F. in the Second Invasion. These videos were whole and continuous, not censored at all. We studied bugger tactics and strategies from a lot of angles. This was the first time that a teacher was pointing out things I never noticed before. I could finally admire someone who was alive. “Why aren’t you dead?” I asked him. He fought his battle seventy years ago. Mazer was still the only person able to understand the things he understood about the buggers. They needed him here to teach the person who would command the fleet. They sent him at a relativistic speed. Fifty years in space but it really was just eight years for him. Just so he could teach the next commander—which was me.

I asked to show me how he beat the buggers. “The video is a very tightly kept secret, Ender.” I told him that I already pieced it partially. He agreed to show me the whole video. We watched Mazer’s suicidal plunge into the heart of the enemy formation, the single explosion, and then—nothing. Everything stopped moving. He sped up the video. Each bugger’s ship acts like part of a single organism. All of their thoughts were together, at one, unlike us humans. He said that the Second Invasion was a colony so I guessed that they brought a Queen with them. The Queen must be the one who controls them all. Mazer replayed the videos again and again to show me the queen’s ship. It took me a while but I started to see that the movements of the buggers focused on a point. There was one particular ship that the buggers were centered around.

The buggers probably couldn’t believe that he would actually kill their queen. Maybe in their world queens were never killed, only captured. When she died, the others went stupid. When they went to the first ship, the buggers were alive but they didn’t move or respond. After a while, they all died. I asked why they didn’t believe him. “Because we didn’t find a queen,” he said. Mazer explained to me that biology takes second place in survival. The evidence was right on Eros. This was the buggers’ advance post in the First Invasion. Mazer told me about the new weapon we’ll be using against the buggers. Dr. Device has a field that spreads out in a sphere but it gets weaker as it spreads farther. When it runs into a lot of molecules, it gets stronger and starts over. It destroys anything it hits. When it hits a ship, a new sphere starts. If there’s a group of ships, they’ll all be wiped out. When Dr. Device was developed, it was name Molecular Detachment Device. M.D. Device. M.D. was also the initials for Medical Doctor so they started called it Dr. Device. It was a joke Mazer told me but I don’t find it funny. I wonder about you…

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 57 ~

January 18th, 2111 | 8:31 PM

Dear Diary,

They had changed the simulator. I could still control the perspective and the degree of detail, but there were no ship’s controls anymore. It was a new panel of levers, and a small headset with earphones and a small microphone. Mazer explained how I would be using the simulator. I have been assigned three dozen leaders to train. I will learn their strengths and limitations. They were are their own simulators and I would speak to them through the headset. The new levers on my control panel let me see from the perspective of any of my squadron leaders. I put on the headset and heard Alai whisper, “Salaam.” I also heard Bean, Dink, Petra, Car Carby, Crazy Tom, Shen, Hot Soup, and Fly Molo; all the best students I fought with/against.

We worked together. Each squadron leader commanded individual pilots and I commanded the squadron leaders. We learned lots of ways to work together since the simulation forced us to try different situations. Sometimes the simulator gave us a larger fleet to work with. I set them up then in three or four toons with three or four squadrons each. Sometimes the simulator gave us a single starship with its twelve fighters, and I chose three squadron leaders with four fighters each. The game was easy to play. The computer-controlled enemy wasn’t very bright, and we always won despite our mistakes. I knew my team well after the past three weeks. The better I knew them, the faster I could use them. As the battle progressed, I would skip from one leader’s point of view to another’s, making suggestions and occasionally, giving orders when needed. The others could only see in their own perspective so some of my orders wouldn’t make sense to them. However, they trusted me. They did as I ordered.

Today, Mazer showed me a replay of our most recent battle. He showed me the enemy’s point of view. “What does it remind you of? The quickness of response, for instance?” Mazer asked. “We look like a bugger fleet,” I replied. He told me that I match them. I’m as fast as they are. He showed me a scene from my battle. I watched as all of my squadrons moved at one, each responding to its own situation. We attacked with an independence no bugger fleet had ever shown. My advantage was greater intelligence. However, my disadvantage will be that I’m always outnumbered. Mazer informed me that the real education will begin. He will program the computer to simulate the kinds of situations I might expect to encounter with the enemy. He would be using the movement patterns we saw in the Second Invasion. Mazer will be controlling the enemy simulation. He promised that he will grind me down to dust if he can. He would hit me with everything he can imagine. I told him that he couldn’t grind me down because I’m stronger than him. “We’ll see about that, Ender.”

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 58 ~

January 19th, 2111 | 8:00 PM

Dear Diary,

Mazer had meant it that he wanted to break me down. He woke me up at 3:40 AM today to go to the simulator. My squadron leaders were already on the wire, waiting for me. There was no enemy yet so I divided them into two armies and began a mock battle. They began slowly, but soon they were vigorous and alert. Then the simulator went blank and everything changed at once. At the edge of the simulator we saw three starships from the human fleet. Each would have twelve fighters. The enemy was obviously aware of our presence. They had formed a globe with a single ship at the center. I knew it wouldn’t be a queen ship. The buggers outnumbered us 2:1 but they were closer together than they should’ve been—Dr. Device would come in handy.

I chose a starship and told Alai that it was his. I assigned the two other starships with their fighter forces, except for one fighter from each starship that I reserved for Bean. I ordered Bean to slip the wall and get below them unless they start chasing him. “Alai, form you force into a compact assault at one point in their globe. Don’t fire until I tell you. This is maneuver only.” I grouped my reserves in two forces that shadowed Alai at a distance. I occasionally flipped to Bean’s point of view since he was off the simulator. Alai played the delicate game with the buggers. His bullet-shaped formation probed the enemy globe. Whenever he came near, the bugger ships pulled back as if trying to draw him near the ship at the center. Alai skimmed to the side and the bugger ships kept up with him. I told Alai to go into the globe. His bullet went it as he said that they’ll let him through and surround him and eat him alive. I just told him to ignore the ship in the middle.

The globe began to contract. I brought out my reserves. The enemy ships concentrated on the side of the globe near the reserves. “Attack them there, where they’re most concentrated,” I said. Alai countered that my tactic defied four thousand years of military history. “We’re supposed to attack where we outnumber them.” I told him that in this simulation the buggers know none about the weapons we have. “Fire at will,” I ordered. Alai did. The simulation responded beautifully. First one or two, then a dozen, then most of the enemy ships exploded in beautiful, dazzling lights as the field went from ship to ship in the tight formation. I told Alai to stay out of the way. The ships on the far side of the globe formation weren’t affected but it was simple hunting them down and destroying them. This battle was easier than most of our recent exercises. I told Mazer about it and he just shrugged. He explained that there had to be one battle where they didn’t know what we could do. I agree.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 59 ~

January 28th, 2111 | 8:11 PM

Dear Diary,

Mazer was right about one thing. Battle came every two or three days. As the battles progressed, they got harder. The enemy already abandoned its attempt to surround me and they never grouped together closely enough to allow a chain reaction. There was something new every time, something harder. Sometimes I only had a single starship and eight fighters. Once, the enemy dodged through an asteroid belt. Sometimes the enemy left stationary traps, large installations that blew up if I brought one of my squadrons too close. They often crippled or destroyed some of my ships.

“You cannot absorb losses!” Mazer yelled at me after the battle. “When you get into a real battle you won’t have the luxury of an infinite supply of computer-generated fighters. You’ll have what you brought with you and nothing more. Now get used to fighting without unnecessary waste.” I pointed out to him that it wasn’t unnecessary waste. I can’t win battles if I’m terrified of losing a ship that I never take any risks. Mazer smiled. “Excellent, Ender; you’re beginning to learn.” He told me that in a real battle, I would have superior officers and civilians shouting those things at me. We went over the battle. In the next practice, I would show my leaders what Mazer showed me, and they’d learn to cope with it the next time they saw it.

You buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 60 ~

February 6th, 2111 | 8:42 PM

Dear Diary,

My fleet and I trust each other more than ever. We’ve fought through challenges together. Each battle was exhilarating. They told me that the ones who weren’t actually playing would come into the simulator rooms and watch. I had thought about how it would be a distraction if that happened to me but I thought about the people behind me who would be cheering, all of them my friends. I only had Mazer and he was my companion and teacher, not a friend. Their trust in me as a commander grew. However, the friendships from Battle School faded and disappeared. I was their teacher and commander, as distant from them as Mazer was from me, and as demanding. I wasn’t distracted at all except in my sleep.

At night I would dream of the corpse of the Giant, decaying steadily. I could smell the faint odor of death lingering near it. The little village in the Giant’s corpse was inhabited by buggers, no dwarfs. They saluted me like gladiators greeting Caesar before they died for my entertainment. I didn’t hate the buggers in my dream. Even though they hid their queen, I didn’t try to look for her. I went to the playground and the children were always there. They wore faces I knew: Stilson, Bonzo, Peter, and Bernard. Sometimes I saw the faces of Dink and Petra or Alai and Shen. Sometimes one of them would be Valentine, and I also shoved her under the water for her to drown. When I dragged her out of the lake and onto the raft I would scream and cry. It was only a game! Then, Mazer Rackham would shake me awake. “You were calling out in your sleep,” he said. I apologized. “Never mind; it’s time for another battle.”

There were usually two battles a day now and I held my practices to a minimum. I would use the time while the others rested to watch the replays of past games, trying to spot my own weaknesses, trying to guess what would happen next. Sometimes I would be prepared for what the enemy would do and sometimes I wasn’t. Life is hard, my friend.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 61 ~

February 17th, 2111 | 8:24 PM

Dear Diary,

I think I’m slipping. I stay awake longer and longer each night, not getting enough sleep. I’ve noticed that in every battle I always lost a few fighters. The enemy was able to trick me into exposing weakness several times. Mazer would point out what I didn’t need to do. My disappointment passed on to my squadrons. “Sometimes we make mistakes,” Petra whispered to me. I answered to her that sometimes we don’t. I wouldn’t be the one helping her. She needs to find her own friends. That gave me the disaster in one my battles three days ago. Petra led her force too far and they were exposed. In only a few moments, she lost all her ships except two of them. I pushed her too hard. I quickly ordered Crazy Tom to lead the remaining two ships. Petra had played a big part in the battle and it all came apart. If the enemy hadn’t been too eager and clumsy, we would’ve lost. We didn’t win easily that battle. At the end of the battle, I could hear Petra trying to get a microphone. She was trying to tell me an apology.

She wasn’t there in the next few practices and when she came back, she wasn’t as fast and daring as she had been. A lot of her best qualities were lost. I couldn’t use her anymore, except in routine, closely supervised assignments. She knew what happened. She knew that I had no other choice and told me. The fact that she was broken and was weaker than all the other squadron leaders was a warning to me. I couldn’t push them too hard that they couldn’t handle it. I had to keep in mind how often they fought. The pressure on me is stronger. I don’t like it one bit.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 62 ~

February 25th, 2111 | 8:22 PM

Dear Diary,

Last night I woke up in pain. There was blood on my pillow and in my mouth. I had been gnawing on my fist and the blood was still flowing. I called Rackham and he called for a doctor. While the doctor treated me, Mazer said, “I don’t care how much you eat, Ender, self-cannibalism won’t get you out of this school.” I told him I was asleep and I didn’t want to get out of Command School. I asked him about the others who didn’t make it through training, the ones before me. “They didn’t make it. That’s all. We don’t punish the ones who fail. They just—don’t go on.” “Like Bonzo,” I said. Mazer was confused about who I was talking about. Mazer told me that I made a mistake with Petra and she’ll recover. Petra is Petra and I am I. I asked if the ones who failed died (what in the world was I thinking?). Of course Mazer said no.

I told him that I think Bonzo died. I told him I had dreamed of it last night. I remembered the way he looked after I jammed his face with my head. I think I must have pushed his nose back into his brain. The blood was coming out of his eyes. “It was just a dream,” Mazer said. I told him that I don’t want to keep dreaming these things. I keep thinking of things that I don’t want to remember. I’m afraid I’m going crazy. The doctor finished and left. “Are you really afraid of that?” Mazer asked. I didn’t really know the answer to that. “In my dreams, I’m never sure whether I’m really me,” I said. Mazer told me that strange dreams are a safety valve. He was putting pressure on me and my body was finding a way to handle it. It’s about time that I stop being afraid of the night. I decided that I won’t tell him about my dreams again.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 63 ~

February 28th, 2111 | 8:00 PM

Dear Diary,

I had started a routine of the destruction of myself. I began to have pains in my stomach. They put me on a bland diet but I soon didn’t have an appetite for anything at all. If nobody told me to eat, I wouldn’t eat. When Mazer tells me “Eat” I would mechanically put food in my mouth. Two more of my squadron leaders collapsed like Petra. The pressure has gotten greater. The enemy outnumbered us by three or four to one in every battle now. The enemy also retreated more readily when things went badly. That made the battles longer and longer. Sometimes the battles could last for hours before we finally destroyed the last enemy ship.

I began rotating my squadron leaders within the same battle, bringing in fresh and rested ones to take the place of those who were beginning to get sluggish. One time, as Bean took over Hot Soup’s four remaining fighter. He said to me, “You know, this game isn’t quite as fun as it used to be.” There’s no better way than for me to agree. The stress is pushing us all to the limits. I can’t let that break me down.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 64 ~

March 12th, 2111 | 8:00 PM

Dear Diary,

I’ve been sick the past few days. At one of my practices I blacked out and woke up on the floor with my face bloody where I had hit the controls. I remembered seeing faces in my dreams, but they weren’t real faces. Sometimes I saw Valentine and sometimes Peter. I even saw the buggers vivisecting me. Once it seemed very real when I saw Colonel Graff bending over me and speaking softly to me. Then, I woke up and found my enemy, Mazer Rackham. I had a battle that day. I fought and won it. There was no second battle that day so I could go to bed earlier.

Four nights ago, I felt hands with affection and gentleness on me. I also heard voices in my dream. I heard Colonel Graff telling Mazer that he wasn’t being kind to me. He was worried that I was breaking down. Mazer replied saying that I was almost done. Then they changed into Valentine and Alai. They were burying me and a hill grew up where I was buried. I dried out and became a home for the buggers, like the Giant. They were all dreams. Only the dreams had pity or love for me.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 65 ~

March 13th, 2111 | 8:00 PM

Dear Diary,

I’ll try to make this quick and short. I’m really tired and angry. I don’t feel like telling you anything but I have to tell you. Today was the final examination of Battle School. No one was in my room when I woke up and the door was unlocked. I was confused at first. I ate breakfast then went to the simulation room. Mazer Rackham was there. I sat down in my chair until Mazer spoke to me. That’s when I noticed the people standing in the room. I saw Colonel Graff, Colonel Anderson, and many others. Some were wearing civilian clothes. Mazer told me that it was the final examination and all these people would be watching me. Today’s battle would have a planet. Everyone was there. I didn’t want to worry my leaders how today was very important. I told them I overslept and they all laughed. I warmed them up with maneuvers. When the battle appeared, I wish I could’ve lost it. I felt hopeless. They outnumbered us by a thousand to one. They were grouped into a dozen different formations, shifting positions, changing shapes, moving in seemingly random pattern through the simulator field. I couldn’t find a path through them. The planet was at the far edge of the field. My own fleet consisted of twenty starships, each with only four fighters. I knew the starships—they were old-fashioned, sluggish, and the range of the Little Doctors was half that of the newer ones. Fairness wasn’t part of the game. Bean reminded me that the enemy’s gate was down. We laughed. I whispered quickly into the microphone. My commanders took their parts of the fleet and grouped themselves into a thick projectile, a cylinder aimed at the nearest of the enemy formations. The enemy welcomed me so I could be thoroughly entrapped before destroying me.

I dodged downward, north, east, west, and down again. Finally, the enemy closed on me too tightly. Suddenly, my formation burst. All eighty fighters began firing at enemy ships at random. After a few minutes, I whispered to my squadron leaders and suddenly a dozen of the remaining fighters formed again into a formation. My tiny fleet darted this way and that, sending two or three fighters out as if to attack, then bringing them back. The enemy closed in, drawing ships and formations that had been scattered. Keep on coming. I whispered a command and the ships dropped toward the planet’s surface. I didn’t intend them to reach the atmosphere. From the moment they began to drop, they were focusing their Little Doctors on the planet. Would the computer be able to show what happened when the Dr. Device had done its work to the planet? I let go of the controls and watched. The surface of the planet bubbled and it exploded. Debris was thrown at my fighters. It burst apart within three seconds. The field took every ship in its path. A lump of dirt was growing as gravity drew most of the debris downward again.

I took off my headphones. I heard a lot of cheering in my room. I didn’t understand. Graff came to me and hugged me tightly saying thank you over and over again. The others came to shake my hand. The crowd parted and Mazer went through. He congratulated me and said that I beat them. I didn’t understand at all. Apparently I never played a game since Mazer became my enemy. I was the Third Invasion. I was the commander and I destroyed all the buggers. I’m a killer! I don’t want to kill anyone!

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 66 ~

~ 67 ~

March 14th, 2111 | 8:36 PM

Dear Diary,

I hardly recognized Graff and Rackham when they woke me up. When I saw them, I turned my back on them. Graff needed to talk to me. He said that they had been playing the videos on Earth all day and night yesterday. I had slept for a whole day. “You’re a hero, Ender. They’ve seen what you did, you and the others. I don’t think there’s a government who hasn’t voted you their highest medal,” Graff said. I asked him if I killed them all, the buggers. He said yes, that was the idea. Mazer added that that was what the war was for. I killed all their queens and their children; everything! I grabbed Mazer’s uniform and pulled him down so we were face to face. I yelled to him that I didn’t want to kill them all. I didn’t want to kill anybody! I’m not a killer! They didn’t want me, they wanted Peter, but they made me do it. They tricked me!

They knew that someone had to have enough empathy to know how the buggers worked to be able to defeat them. A person like that wouldn’t have the killer instinct. They had to manipulate me. They needed someone young because we were quicker. The ships had real pilots, real people. They died because of my commands. I was so angry. They never told me anything, not even the truth. “You had to be a weapon, Ender. Like a gun, like the Little Doctor, functioning perfectly but not knowing what you were aimed at. We aimed you. We’re responsible. If there was something wrong, we did it.” I sure do agree with those sentences. Then Mazer told me that there was going to be a war on Earth. The Americans claimed the Warsaw Pact is about to attack, and the Russians are saying the same thing about the Hegemon. All of them want me to lead their armies; the Americans, the Hegemon, everyone except the Warsaw Pact. They want me dead, really, but I don’t care at all. My work here is done and I could die for all I care.

Mazer continued to tell me that I needed to get away from here. The Russians (the Polemarch) were all around Eros. I turned my back on Mazer. Then I heard Graff tell Mazer that he pushed me too hard. Mazer argued that I was strong. I don’t think I’m that strong. Mazer broke me down because of the manipulations, the tricks and lies. I’m going to sleep now.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 68 ~

March 19th, 2111 | 7:56 PM

Dear Diary,

I’ve been sleeping for five days. Well, more like half sleeping and half conscious. I did sort of wake up for a few seconds a few times but I don’t know if what I heard and felt was real. Once, I woke up in the darkness and felt a needle in my hand. Other times, I would hear murmuring and cursing. I’ve been having my lifetime’s worth of events in my dreams. I went through the Giant’s Drink, the wolf-children, and other terrible deaths. I would watch over and over again of the buggers’ world erupting. I would come closer and closer so I could see each bugger ship turn into a pile of dust before my eyes. My dreams always ended in something that could reflect my face. It always started with Peter with blood and a snake’s tail coming out of his mouth. Then it turned into me. I looked sad and my eyes showed distress over the billions of buggers I killed.

When I finally woke up today, it was dark. I heard soft footsteps and immediately shot out my hand to kill whoever was in the room. Turns out it was Alai and I released him. He commented that my survival instincts were still intact. They sure were intact. The thumping outside was a war. Our section was blacked out so we could be safe. “Not all the Warsaw Pact people went with the Polemarch. A lot of them came over when the Strategos told them you were loyal to the I.F.,” Alai said. “Some of the Russians who came in told us that when the Polemarch ordered them to find you and kill you, they almost killed him.” Alai concluded that whatever they say, they love me. He mentioned that in the videos of the Third Invasion, it showed my voice giving orders, nothing censored. The thumping went silent and Bean entered. Petra followed Bean in with Dink holding her hand. I asked who won.

“There was a truce on Earth. They’ve been negotiating for days. They finally agreed to accept the Locke proposal,” Petra explained. The I.F. will still exist but without the Warsaw Pact in it. The Hegemon also resigned. “You scared us. They said you were crazy, and we said they were crazy,” Petra said. I told her that I’m crazy but I’m OK. I explained what happened when I grabbed Alai. I had wanted to kill him first. But, I’d rather be alive than dead. The others laughed and agreed. I cried and hugged Bean and Petra. I missed them so much. I told them that the ones I needed most were used up the soonest. That was bad planning on my part. I confessed to them that I didn’t want to command anyone anymore. Dink told me that no matter what, I will always be there commander. We stayed quiet for a while until Alai asked what we would do now. Petra said that we were kids so they would probably make us go to school. “It’s a law. You have to go to school till you’re seventeen.” We all laughed until tears came down out face. Tears of joy it is.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 69 ~

April 6th, 2112 | 7:48 PM

Dear Diary,

I’m definitely not going back to Earth. It’s already been a year and that message is pretty clear. For the past months I had watched the full videos of the court rulings on whether I had committed murder with Stilson and Bonzo. Clearly, the ones I had hurt had provoked me. There were some attempts to make me look sick and insane but I had been let through. I wouldn’t have been able to see the full videos if I wasn’t awarded the rank of admiral. Watching the full videos were the few privileges I used as an admiral. I was able to watch the videos of my friends returning to their hometowns on Earth. They praised me constantly which really touched me.

A lot of the time, I worked on Eros. Now, it was really busy. For the past few months there were colonists coming in to prepare for their voyages to the empty bugger worlds. I was careful to avoid the tunnels where they lived. They all recognized me. I didn’t want that attention. However, there was one colonist that I can’t hide from. I met her today; it was Valentine. She said she would be going with the first colony. It would take fifty years to get there, two if you’re aboard the ship. I wanted to go home but she told me that I couldn’t. The way things are on Earth would hurt me. Locke (Peter) had taken over the world now. His true identity isn’t known publicly but he planned to reveal it when I come back to Earth. That would make it easier for him to completely take over. Valentine made a deal with him. She showed Peter all the evidence that was enough to prove to the public that he was a psychotic killer. When he saw it, he was willing to give Val and me freedom from him.

Val convinced me enough to go with the first colony to the buggers’ world. I hadn’t want to live in the homes of the people I killed but maybe if I went there I could learn about their past. Val told me that I would be the governor of the first colony established, if I accept it. Val is Demosthenes so she had some part in the government, too. The first colony knows that Demosthenes will be with them but they won’t know who it will truly be. Val is actually having some fun as Demosthenes.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 70 ~

June 12th, 2116 | 10:00 PM

Dear Diary,

Val is on the seventh volume of her Demosthenes series. Her last volume would be about me. I told her to stop where the battle ends. Nothing interesting happens after that, really. Two days ago, I was assigned to find another home for the incoming colony. I brought an 11-year old boy named Abra with me. He was only three when the colony was founded. We traveled as far as I thought the new colony should be and we camped at the spot. It was today that I felt uneasy. I felt like I knew this place. Abra called out to me and I went up the hill he was on. The hill was hollow. It was a deep depression in the middle, partially filled with water. In one direction the hill gave way to two long ridges that made a V-shaped valley; in the other direction the hill rose to a piece of white rock, grinning like a skull with a tree growing out of its mouth. Abra noted that it looked like a dead giant died here. This place reminded me of the Giant’s corpse. This couldn’t have been possible. The computer at Battle School couldn’t have seen this place.

The shapes of the swings, slides, and monkey bars were unmistakable. The buggers had built this place for me. Fifty years ago they built it for me. Abra insisted that he come with me but I only led him to the cliff and in the distance there would be the castle tower. The tower’s walls were notched and ledged for easy climbing. The room looked the same. I looked for the snake but there was only a rug with a carved snake’s head at on corner. They did imitations, not duplications. For people who didn’t do art, they did well. They must’ve dragged these images from my mind, trying to learn about me. They had wanted me to find this place and give me a message. I found the mirror on the wall. It was a dull sheet of metal with a rough shape of a human face scratched into it. I pulled it away. In it lay a white ball of silk. It was the pupa of a queen bugger. I didn’t understand at first how I could see these things like they were a memory. I could see males clinging to the walls of a dark tunnel, and the adults carried the infant queen to the mating room. Each male mated with the larval queen and died, dropping to the tunnel floor. The new queen was laid before the old, magnificent creature clad in soft shimmering wings. The old queen kissed her to sleep, and then wrapped her in threads from her belly.

Suddenly, I was watching what I had seen on the simulator but in the hive-queen’s point of view. I felt her emotions. I felt sadness, a sense of resignation. I asked how she could live again. The queen put thoughts into my mind. If her ten thousand children were born, we humans would only kill again. That’s when I realized that they found me through the ansible, followed it and lived in my mind. In my dreams they came to know me, even as I spent my days destroying them. They knew my fear of them and knew that I didn’t know I was killing them. In their short time, they built this place for me. The queen told me that they were like us. They had thought they were the only thinking beings but when they found us, they never came back again. She said that we could live together. I promised her that I will carry her and find a safe home. I’ll also tell my people her story so one day we would forgive them. I’ll start with telling Valentine.

Your buddy,

Ender Wiggin

~ 71 ~

July 23rd, 2116 | 6:34 PM

Dear Diary,

This may be the last time I will talk to you, old friend. We’ve been through a lot together but it’s time that we parted. My interesting life has now become more uneventful, despite the fact that I am always searching for a new home for the bugger queen. I wrote a short book about the hive-queen. I wrote it as if she were the one speaking. I wrote about their intentions and all they had done. Here were their failures and greatnesses. They had not meant to hurt us and they forgive us for their deaths. I told a tale of the queen of all. She first learned to keep and teach the new queen instead of killing her or driving her away. She told of the many times she had finally to destroy the child of her body, until she bore one who understood her quest for harmony. There were two queens that loved and helped each other instead of battling. They prospered and as more generations passed, wisdom grew.

Here’s an excerpt: “If only we could have talked to you. But since it could not be, we ask only this: that you remember us, not as enemies, but as tragic sisters, changed into a foul shape by fate or God or evolution. If we had kissed, it would have been the miracle to make us human in each other’s eyes. Instead we killed each other. But still we welcome you now as guestfriends. Come into our home, daughters of Earth; dwell in our tunnels, harvest our fields; what we cannot do, you are now our hands to do for us. Blossom, trees; ripen, fields; be warm for them, suns; be fertile for them, planets: they are our adopted daughters, and they have come home.” I published my book without my name. I had myself titled as SPEAKER FOR THE DEAD. Everyone on Earth would have read it in the next few years. I hope they learn to forgive the buggers. Last week, Peter had requested a book about him from me. We spoke through the ansible and I learned about his crimes and kindnesses. He died yesterday from heart failure. My second volume was already done.

The future will learn about the buggers and all the good and evil they knew. Tomorrow, Valentine and I will be leaving this colony to travel from world to world. She will write stories about the living and I will write about the dead. During this time, I will do my best to find a home for the new queen. I’m sad to say this but, farewell, old friend. I have trusted you with many thoughts but now I have to say the painful words. Good-bye.

Your friend,

Ender Wiggin

~ 72 ~