[ WP ] You are part of an insurgency in a world where powered exoskeleton technology has become ubiquitous in both the military and civilian markets .

I push off the ground, leaving a wake of dirt to fly off against the schoolyard wall. Once, the schoolyard had been asphalt, so those caught in the spray squeal as their exos blind them behind a shield. 
 
 Kendall gives chase, shouting my name, commanding proximity. I deny his request and increase base velocity. Overhead, several cargo freighters pile by, their under-racks, normally used to quickly relocate train cars, retrofitted for the Triplicate Legion. These were empty, but even Kendall slowed and looked up to see if any soldiers were aboard. 
 
 Disappointment sifted aside, I dive and weave through a gaggle of lower-thirds. Those whose exos have pulse jumpers activate them and shoot their wards from my line; those who do n't simply freeze. When there is nowhere to weave, I thank the Triplicate that my father holds rank enough to afford the same pulse jumpers and leap fifteen feet into the air, whirling to the cheers of my classmates, and then spring ahead. 
 
 If my father did n't hold rank, would I be chased at all? 
 
 `` No fair!'' screams Kendall, falling away. 
 
 I'm breathing heavily, but slow to a stop. As I inhale, several holes open in the front of my exo, letting even more air in; three tracheas are better than one. Moments later, my blood is oxygenated, my legs are ready for another round. 
 
 On the outside, the exos do n't appear any different. Simple, white plates covering the chest, like shoulder blades on the front. Similar allocations on the hips, and the sides of the thighs and triceps. Then, soles of the feet, and a horseshoe band from the brain stem around to the temples. 
 
 On the inside, however, opulence affected performance. The more money one had, the deeper the exo probed. My lungs, heart, and stomach were coated in a material that would harden instantly if struck by ballistics. Same with my skull. 
 
 Such as it was, Kendall had no such applications on his exo. His father worked as a loadsman, so the only real enhancements he had were in his lifting strength. He'd someday take over the family business. 
 
 `` Gotcha!'' shouted Wynn, grappling my arms. Kendall, huffing, started to run over, a grin crossed with a scowl on his face. `` I got you, you little termite!'' 
 
 But no son of a soldier was ever so easily captured. I pulsed from the left leg, then from the right. I was smaller, but the power of the air pumped from my exo put Wynn off-kilter on the first pump, and laid him low on the second. I had been strictly, and in no uncertain terms, told to *not* do what I was about to, but here I was, and there they were. 
 
 Kendall was fifteen yards out. I charged. As the soles of my feet reached perpendicular to my body, further airbursts were emitted. The first few times I did this, when I was only five, my brain felt funny. Now, I felt the rush. Kendall reared his fist back for the sort of punch that would crack ribs; as he delivered, my thigh pulsed out reflexively, my head went down and under the potential blow, and I used the same emphasis in my arm that he did, slamming him with a palm-out shot to his exo that sent him reeling to his bottom. 
 
 I did n't finish a step toward him before I felt a hand on my shoulder and a rush of air. Teacher was here. 
 
 I was in deep trouble.
