Days pass. Eventually, weeks. You begin to feel content, almost smug, about your situation. The system is too flawed to chase after every draft-dodger out there, after all. You feel at ease to spend each day playing video games and watching the holo-vision. Life is good.
One day, roughly one month after your alotted timeframe to be analyzed for fitness in the Military Processing Center has expired, you receive a knock at the door. It is an American Federation Investigatory Services (AFIS) officer.
"Is there anybody in there?"
What will you do?