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Aftermath
Posted By: Amaranthine<LifeInSucksville@gmail.com>
Date: 15 June 2008, 12:51 am
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It's amazing, really, how conservative the human race is.
For thousands of years, we've been irrationally compelled to end our own existence; through pollution, war, depletion of natural resources, never once have we bothered to unify and tell ourselves to persevere as a whole. There's always a scapegoat, someone responsible for all our problems. And usually there is an eagerness to rid ourselves of those responsible. However, for reasons beyond grasp, the destruction of our scapegoats seems to come before resolving our problems when we prioritize our budgets.
One would think that after the Human-Covenant wars, and all that the struggle entailed, Mankind would have been able to fully utilize that unnatural sense of unity. For once in our entire existence every man, woman, and child had the same goal: survival. Religion, politics, nearly every difference we had was put aside so that we could fight as a whole.
Against impossible odds we survived. Barely.
Our moment of triumph was cut short, and understandably so. Where do we go from here? Our people are dead. Our civilization was nearly razed to the ground. Our entire source of funds depleted. Rebuilding has to begin, but with what money and with which workers? There were next to no resources at the time.
Of course, the first emotion we felt was anger. Not for the ones we lost, anger at the condition we had to live in. Understandably, we needed someone to blame. We've been trained to feel that way since the dawn of time.
But with the Covenant gone, the Flood destroyed, whom do we blame?
Sadly, it seemed the only ones left to blame were each other.
All the sects of humanity, all the political parties, all the religions who had been unified only several years before turned on one another. Our crippled planet was once again a battleground.
We no longer had any other planets habitable, and our natural resources were running slow. Naturally, those in charge tried to ration, however "ration" is not a word the starving or dying will listen to for long.
Again, war broke out. I guess we could be thankful that we weren't fighting "holy wars" or wars over our differences anymore. These wars were over things truly important; water, land, and food.
I don't know exactly why I decided to continue my service with the UNSC. I guess it's because I'd been fighting with them for years and just felt at home. But it's a strange thing to start killing men again.
Back when we were fighting otherworldly forces, there was an ease associated to it. Well, perhaps ease isn't the right word as our population was more than decimated. But killing something that isn't your kind is much easier than killing your own.
I remember in my first battle on Earth fighting against rebel forces. I use the word rebel, you see, because I know in my heart that none of these men are terrorists. If a man is fighting just so that he can go home with enough food and water to feed his family does that make him a terrorist? Look at me, I'm ranting. Back to the point.
I remember in my first battle the feeling I had as I shot someone. I had no regrets at the time. Most certainly, had I not killed him he would have killed me. It was a necessary evil. But now, all these years later, it leaves me with a deep sense of sorrow.
The UNSC trained me to survive wars. It did very well in that one aspect. However, they never trained me to survive with myself afterwards. As I go to sleep every night I can't help but feel I'd have been much happier dying years ago.
But now the sun is rising. It's a nice feeling. I know I have a few more seconds of peace before I'm ordered to move out.
I look to my left and see my friend. He's lying on his stomach, rifle at the ready, looking forward towards the enemy encampment. Sadly, he's as brainwashed as everyone else. He's still fighting the "good fight" along with everyone else in my squad. I almost wish I felt the same way.
The order is given. We all slowly stand and begin moving forward. We're no longer hidden in the thick brush; we begin to move into a grass field on the edge of the enemy camp. I know I have a few more seconds of safety. It's still early and recon tells us there's a minimal amount of guards at this time.
Up ahead, I see a man in a watchtower notice us. He seems to freeze up. I guess he's deciding whether to shoot or sound the alarm. Unfortunately for him, the answer is neither. I hear the faint pop! of a sniper rifle behind me and see the man fall to the ground. I wonder for a moment if he watched the sun rise.
The enemy is unaware of our presence only for a few minutes longer. Eventually, the alarm is set off and the morning's silence is broken with the sound of gunfire and screaming.
I'm running on autopilot. Doing exactly what I'm told to do as I'm told to do it. I briefly wonder how many Nazis or terrorists were only doing the exact thing.
Everything seems to be going well. We're sweeping through the enemy resistance with relative ease. But with every battle there are casualties.
At first I thought I had ran into something hard. But the blood spraying my faces tells me otherwise. I find it hard to stand and eventually fall to the ground. Odd, how a torso wound doesn't seem to hurt. They always told me it would.
"Well," I think to myself as the rising sun seems to darken. "At least I found a way out of the world we live in."
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