GOOD CHILDREN Warhammer 30/40k
The school bells sound exactly like factory alarms.
Same metallic scream.
Same vibration through the walls.
Same feeling afterward.
The children stand automatically.
Rows of desks bolted directly into the floor beneath devotional banners:
WORK IS GRATITUDE
SACRIFICE IS LOVE
DUTY IS SURVIVAL
Mara keeps staring at the second one.
Sacrifice is love.
That feels wrong somehow.
The instructor walks slowly between the desks while lesson screens flicker alive behind him:
- workers
- soldiers
- corpse reclamation crews
- manufactorum lines
- ration distribution
All presented the same way.
Equal.
Necessary.
Holy.
Instructor:
What does the Emperor ask of us?
The class answers automatically.
Class:
Everything.
Instructor:
And why?
Again:
Class:
So humanity may survive.
Nobody sounds emotional.
That’s the strange part.
The words are too familiar for emotion now.
The lesson screen changes.
A laborer missing both arms smiles proudly beside a production line.
Instructor:
What makes service meaningful?
A boy near the front raises his hand proudly.
Boy:
Sacrifice.
The instructor smiles warmly.
Actually warmly.
That unsettles Mara more than the lesson itself.
The screen changes again.
Workers carrying sealed corpse-starch containers beneath giant devotional banners.
Instructor:
Why do we honor the dead?
Another child answers immediately.
Girl:
Because they continue serving humanity.
The class nods.
Routine.
Normal.
Mara slowly raises her hand.
The room becomes quiet.
Instructor:
Yes?
She hesitates.
Not because she’s scared.
Because she genuinely doesn’t understand.
Mara:
What if somebody doesn’t want to be sacrificed?
Silence.
Not angry silence.
Confused silence.
The instructor kneels beside her desk gently.
Patiently.
That somehow feels worse.
Instructor:
Why wouldn’t they?
Mara blinks.
Mara:
Because it hurts.
The instructor nods sympathetically.
Instructor:
Important things often do.
Several children nod immediately.
The answer makes perfect sense to them.
The lesson screen changes again.
Imperial Guard soldiers marching into artillery fire beneath cathedral banners.
Instructor:
What is the greatest honor a citizen can receive?
The class answers instantly.
Class:
To be useful.
That lands harder than everything else.
Not:
- happy
- loved
- free
- remembered
Useful.
Beside her, Chibi quietly answers another lesson question before she even processes it.
Instructor:
What happens when we stop being useful?
Chibi:
The system repurposes us.
The instructor smiles proudly.
Instructor:
Correct.
Mara stares at Chibi.
Mara:
Repurposes?
He shrugs slightly.
Chibi:
Nothing gets wasted.
That sentence frightens her most.
Because everybody agrees with it.
The children.
The teachers.
The workers.
The priests.
The entire hive.
Nothing gets wasted.
Not labor.
Not suffering.
Not bodies.
Not grief.
The school bells sound again.
The children stand automatically.
Lesson complete.
As they walk through the industrial corridors afterward, Mara looks back toward the classroom.
Mara:
Do you think they really believe all that?
Chibi thinks carefully.
Longer than usual.
Then quietly:
Chibi:
I think believing it makes everything hurt less.
Children continue marching through the corridors around them in organized lines while distant factory sirens echo through the hive.
Mara:
Does that make it true?
Chibi stares ahead at the endless corridor stretching before them.
Chibi:
Probably true enough.
And somewhere deep below the school—
the factories continue burning beneath prayers teaching children how to surrender pieces of themselves in exchange for survival.
If you remember what this felt like —
you already know what you’re missing.
Step back into it.
Or keep missing it.
👉 https://startplaying.games/gm/dunchan
Want to go deeper?
Then don’t stop at the surface.
The full stories. The dossiers. The things behind it —
they’re waiting. Or they’re not.
👉 https://www.patreon.com/c/mythveilchronicles_bydunchanhuntergames
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