Keyboard Warrior
Ash picked up his spear. He had never held one before. In fact, he was born just a moment ago as the recruitment queue finished. He had been gestating for thirty seconds.
In all, it was a good life. He had free time as he stood outside the barracks. The sun was shining. Ash couldn’t see where it was in the sky, only that it was bright, and that meant the sun was shining.
A worker smiled at him as she carried gold in a bucket. She was beautiful like the missing sun. Ash smiled back. He wasn’t sure she had seen, as the dropped the bucket of gold off at the headquarters.
That was a busy building. So much coming and going. She had an important job, feeding the machinery of state.
Ash wanted to stay. To smile at her as she returned to do whatever came next for her. But it was not to be. Orders came down from on high, and Ash found himself marching away against his will.
It was sad to march away from his home, but he wasn’t alone. Five more spearmen marched with him. One of them was a grizzled veteran. That one had seen war.
War. Somehow Ash knew the word, and the meaning. He also knew that war was his job, what he was made for. Ash looked at his spear. That spear was as much a part of his and his own hand. He couldn’t have dropped it if he wanted.
They marched through their civilization, but as they neared the border, there were fewer farms and workers. Watchtowers dotted the horizon and soldiers moved back and forth, seemingly at random. Their little squad came to a rest on the edge of a hill.
Ash looked to the others and smiled. He would fight. That’s all he knew. He would fight for that smiling worker. The other spearmen smiled with him. It was the same smile, the same face. Only the veteran didn’t share their enthusiasm. War had hardened the man, it seemed. But that didn’t make him right.
Intelligence came. The enemy had been spotted. Ash readied himself. Their foe had come far, but they would not make it past him. His nations walls were alive.
A red tank rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. Its armor was thick. The gun was leveled straight at them.
Before he knew it, Ash was in a headlong sprint towards the lumbering beast. They all were. It was all the could do. The tank fired its first round at them and it fell short. What were the odds? Ash wasn’t sure if there was a god, but he felt some force looking over him, willing him on.
The second round hurt. Terribly. Two of the spearmen were dead, and Ash felt he had lost about seventy points of damage. They hit the tank in a wave. Moments passed, and another spearman fell to the tan’s mighty rounds.
Ash fought with all his heart, but his attacks weren’t doing much to hurt fearsome metal beast. Not even the veteran, who fought on despite his scars, was doing much to it.
Another moment, and another spearman was dead, then another. It was just Ash and the veteran, and then it was just Ash.
He fought with a fury, stabbing every two seconds. The tank’s gun drooped and its treads were fitting poorly. He could do this. And then he saw it, the chink in the armor. He stabbed there and broke the beast. It exploded and died a piteous death.
Alone, Ash made the walk back home. He thought of the smiles his fellows had had, and the look on the veteran.
Suddenly, he found himself back at base, watching the workers buzz around him. He had been promoted. One of them smiled at him, but he couldn’t smile anymore.
Michael Frutig 