Why am I here? Is what the man kept asking himself as he walked toward the recruiting center. Why am I doing this? He hated the thought, the concept, of war. He hated the idea of so many people all hell-bent on killing each other. Oh, but wait, no one killed each other per se; with the technology of the day it was little better than a game. A robotic suit with your conscious downloaded inside aided in the fight for occupation of land that would not be habitable for decades. "So this is what war has come to." he said to himself as he drew closer to the place where he would volunteer to take part in a war for mere territory in the radioactive waste land that had been New York. The neutron bomb of the day had left what had been the greatest city in the world completely intact except for the people. That was the reason he was going to fight, not for love of war or love of country, but the people who hadn't been evacuated in time. As he walked into the office and sat down, he wondered how much blame he should cast on his own government. After all it had technically been a retaliatory strike, simply out of spite, that had gotten things to this point.
As he walked on, drawing closer and closer to the recruiting center, he thought back to when he was in his mid-teens. He remembered how all his closest friends had become political activists. Every one of them had begged him to get involved to help end a war and make a difference in history. They had finally talked him into going with them to one of their anti-war rallies. When they arrived at the rally, he could see why it was outdoors. It was a pleasant day in mid-summer and the rally was in a good part of D.C.; but the people. He had heard of the size of the rallies, but it was an hour before it began and there were already over fifteen hundred people waiting for the speeches to start. It took them almost the entire hour, but they had eventually found a spot that they liked somewhat close to the stage. After the band had played some CCR and Edwin Star music to set the tone, the main speaker was introduced. There was hardly a person on the planet who had not heard of Michael Pinze with his outspoken views against the current violence between the United States and New Allied Powers. Pinze took the podium to encourage peace and attempted to turn even just one person from supporting the war effort. As he made his opening comments, a shot rang out. Everyone at the event heard the shot, which had to be from an old slug-throwing sniper rifle, and saw Pinze catch a bullet and fall. Even as he stood up, he thought that if one person cared enough about the people who died in the war, to silence one who spoke out against them being avenged, that he should do something.
He decided that none of this mattered to him; he was simply a man who knew what he had to do to survive. Coming up to the recruiting center he noticed a man who was obviously an anti-war protester. “Come on man. Why are yah goin’ in there to throw away your life fighting over somethin’ nobody wants?
“That’s a good question. All I can tell you is that I was with you before I saw how strongly some people believe that we should be striking back, and I‘ll be the first one to tell you that this is the only job I can get”.
“Well bro, I guess I can’t blame you for that. You were at the rally where Pinze was shot?”
“Yeah, I don’t care about politics though, I just need a job. What good is living through a war if you die the next day because you can’t put food on the table?” With that they shook hands and he went into the recruiting center.
After completing and handing in the digital recruiting form, and officer led him into another room to go over some of the medical implications of enlistment.
“You have read the forms, filled out the paper work, and realize the implications of doing such?” the officer asked in a voice that sounded very routine to the potential recruit.
“Yes,” the man replied.
“You are also aware that there is a minor surgery involved to install the hard to wetware interface, and that you will wake up in New York at about 3:00 a.m. because you came in here so late?”
“Yes,” he replied again. Soon after that he was being wheeled into an operating room and being put under. “It will be like nothing you’re ever felt before, but you will be alright,” was what the nurse told him. After that he was put under to have the surgery for the implants.
The next thing he felt was like being born. A feeling a rushing forward, and then a sudden flash of blinding light. The next thing he know he was in an active war zone. As his robotic body stood up, he thought he'd never felt better.
