Free Storm Front (Twilight of the Gods Book 1) by Christopher Nuttall Page A

day.  It had been the first mixed-sex class Gudrun had ever had, but she’d been too fascinated to notice the presence of young men mixed in with the young women.  “Here, we will attempt to teach you to think .”
     
    Her first year at the university had been fascinating, to say the least.  She’d learned how to use a computer, one of the blocky American-made machines that were imported into the Reich at great expense, and dozens of other skills that made up the background for STEM courses.  She knew she had to choose a major by the time she turned twenty, when she would be expected to specialise in one particular field of study, but she was honestly tempted to try to delay that as long as she could.  No one had shown her anything of the sort while she’d been at school, let alone allowed her to come to her own conclusions.  Hell, she’d never heard of anyone being expelled from the university for asking questions.  They were all too eager to learn to make trouble.
     
    “We don’t take everyone,” the tutor had said, a year ago.  “The exams we set look for the underlying potential for intelligence, not developed intelligence.  You are here because we believe we can help your minds to flourish and, in return, you will advance the Reich .”
     
    She took a moment to admire the statue of Albert Speer, architect, minister and one of the three guiding minds of the Reich after Hitler’s death, then hurried into the building.  As always, it was packed; students who had been given the week off for Victory Day had hurried back as soon as they could, preparing for the exams they knew to be coming in three months, exams that would determine their future.  Far too many of them actually lived on campus, sharing rooms in university accommodation that were strictly segregated and chaperoned; Gudrun remembered, with a flicker of envy, how she’d begged her mother and father to allow her to apply for one of the university rooms.  But her mother had flatly refused to allow Gudrun to live away from home.
     
    Probably thought I’d spend all my time in bed with Konrad , she thought, bitterly.  There were housemothers, she’d been told, but they couldn't hope to chaperone everyone.  And abandon my studies completely if I fell pregnant .
     
    She gritted her teeth at the thought as she hurried into the lecture hall.  Some of her friends were already there, pens and paper at the ready; they knew better than to be late when a lecture was about to begin.  The doors would be closed a minute after the deadline and anyone who failed to make it would be marked as absent, which would lead to a thoroughly unpleasant discussion with the dean.  Gudrun had never faced the man himself, thankfully, but she’d heard rumours that anyone who missed more than two classes in a row was given a punishment so awful that no one ever spoke of it...
     
    Which raises the question of just how people know that something happens , she thought, dryly.  The dean probably started the rumours himself, just to keep us in line .
     
    She took her seat and nudged Hilde Morgenstern, a dark-haired girl who’d been her friend ever since the first week at university.  “Meeting in the private study room this afternoon after lunch,” she hissed.  “Pass it on.”
     
    Hilde gave her a sharp look - their private study group wasn't exactly a formal organisation - and then nodded, turning to whisper in Sven’s ear.  Gudrun hadn't been entirely sure that a group composed of both males and females could work - the handful of dances she’d endured at school had been marred by male behaviour as they grew older - but she had to admit that Sven and the others were very focused on their work.  Sven in particular was going to be a computer designer, or so he’d said.  He already had an uncanny insight into how the computers they used at university actually worked.
     
    “I think that’s everyone told,” Hilde muttered, once the whispered message