That Curious Thing [original vignette]
Posted: 2007-07-03 02:07pm
Finally, the last of the vignette carpet bombing. And more second person madness. Oh, the horror!
That Curious Thing
Feil
There is a curious thing about a man who kills.
It is not that he kills, for to kill is the way of nature.
It is not the tools he wields, for man has always used the best tools he can to kill.
The curious thing is this: no human being has ever killed another human being. Never. In the history of mankind.
The first and simplest thing, you see, is to turn yourself into a beast. Beasts - beasts can kill men.
Here they come. There are many of them. They are human. Human like you. You can see it in their eyes. Hear it in their voices. Smell it in their fear.
They want to kill you.
Live!
Bang! Bang, bang, bang! Bullets tear the atmosphere. Live! Bare your teeth. Shout. Scream. Fire. Aim. Fire. Kill!
Silence.
Moaning.
Cries.
Awaken. What have you done? The boys on the other end of the hall look like you. The boys lying dead on your side look like you. Human, like you. Some of yours are moaning, in pain. The enemy are fallen. Some are still alive, in pain.
The second thing we do is almost as simple--we turn the enemy into a creature.
Advance with care. He might kill you. A wounded animal is most dangerous. Put him down. Put him down or he'll hurt people, friends, brothers. Don't kill the boys at the end of the hall. Kill the enemy. Kill the other. Don't listen to the cries. Don't look at their eyes. Just aim the gun. Pull the trigger. Kill!
With the threat gone, you can breathe easy again. No-one left to threaten you and your friends. Check your allies, those boys you call brothers.
Oh! Oh, God! Oh, no. No, no. No, no, no, no. Not him. Not him.
But it is.
Oh, God, it is. Half his face is shot away, and there's a bloody mass under his ribcage. You know a gutshot when you see it. The kid is gone. His screams are loud in the hall. He reaches up to you. You can see it in his eyes. He knows he's dead.
Gunfire from down the hall. Oh, Christ. You can't leave him like this. Can't let him die in pain all alone. Not after what you've been through together.
You look in his eyes and he looks in yours and you see that he knows what you're thinking. Of course he does; he's been through so much with you. He nods and coughs up a little blood. "It should be you," he says.
You understand. Trembling, you raise your pistol. You can't kill your friend, but you aren't going to. He's already dead. They killed him. You're just giving him the final release. Aim.
"Goodbye," he says. You can't answer. Close your eyes. Pull the trigger. Grant him peace.
For the third way we kill, more difficult still, is to transform the act into a non-act. Man ends the life of man--but man does not kill.
There is a fourth way we kill. It is the most complicated of all, and the most terrifying.
Most terrifying because despite its complexity, it is the easiest to do. The easiest to let yourself do. To make yourself into a god.
Because that's what you're going to do, now. Take into your hands the power of life and death. Choose the place and the moment where those poor enemy bastards are going to meet the end. You can kill them--because though they are human, and though you can sympathize with what they are about to face, the terror, the pain, the sudden crushing terror and the cold, cold embrace of death, you are going to do it anyway. Because it's The Right Thing. You are the sole arbiter of justice, the master of death.
You rig the explosives for explosion, wheel out the cord, stand around the corner with your brethren.
The enemy come. And, in an ear-shattering roar of divine power, you push the button that sends fifteen boys direct to Hell.
Maybe later you wonder how you did it. How any man could possibly do what you have done.
It's easy.
A man didn't.
That Curious Thing
Feil
There is a curious thing about a man who kills.
It is not that he kills, for to kill is the way of nature.
It is not the tools he wields, for man has always used the best tools he can to kill.
The curious thing is this: no human being has ever killed another human being. Never. In the history of mankind.
The first and simplest thing, you see, is to turn yourself into a beast. Beasts - beasts can kill men.
Here they come. There are many of them. They are human. Human like you. You can see it in their eyes. Hear it in their voices. Smell it in their fear.
They want to kill you.
Live!
Bang! Bang, bang, bang! Bullets tear the atmosphere. Live! Bare your teeth. Shout. Scream. Fire. Aim. Fire. Kill!
Silence.
Moaning.
Cries.
Awaken. What have you done? The boys on the other end of the hall look like you. The boys lying dead on your side look like you. Human, like you. Some of yours are moaning, in pain. The enemy are fallen. Some are still alive, in pain.
The second thing we do is almost as simple--we turn the enemy into a creature.
Advance with care. He might kill you. A wounded animal is most dangerous. Put him down. Put him down or he'll hurt people, friends, brothers. Don't kill the boys at the end of the hall. Kill the enemy. Kill the other. Don't listen to the cries. Don't look at their eyes. Just aim the gun. Pull the trigger. Kill!
With the threat gone, you can breathe easy again. No-one left to threaten you and your friends. Check your allies, those boys you call brothers.
Oh! Oh, God! Oh, no. No, no. No, no, no, no. Not him. Not him.
But it is.
Oh, God, it is. Half his face is shot away, and there's a bloody mass under his ribcage. You know a gutshot when you see it. The kid is gone. His screams are loud in the hall. He reaches up to you. You can see it in his eyes. He knows he's dead.
Gunfire from down the hall. Oh, Christ. You can't leave him like this. Can't let him die in pain all alone. Not after what you've been through together.
You look in his eyes and he looks in yours and you see that he knows what you're thinking. Of course he does; he's been through so much with you. He nods and coughs up a little blood. "It should be you," he says.
You understand. Trembling, you raise your pistol. You can't kill your friend, but you aren't going to. He's already dead. They killed him. You're just giving him the final release. Aim.
"Goodbye," he says. You can't answer. Close your eyes. Pull the trigger. Grant him peace.
For the third way we kill, more difficult still, is to transform the act into a non-act. Man ends the life of man--but man does not kill.
There is a fourth way we kill. It is the most complicated of all, and the most terrifying.
Most terrifying because despite its complexity, it is the easiest to do. The easiest to let yourself do. To make yourself into a god.
Because that's what you're going to do, now. Take into your hands the power of life and death. Choose the place and the moment where those poor enemy bastards are going to meet the end. You can kill them--because though they are human, and though you can sympathize with what they are about to face, the terror, the pain, the sudden crushing terror and the cold, cold embrace of death, you are going to do it anyway. Because it's The Right Thing. You are the sole arbiter of justice, the master of death.
You rig the explosives for explosion, wheel out the cord, stand around the corner with your brethren.
The enemy come. And, in an ear-shattering roar of divine power, you push the button that sends fifteen boys direct to Hell.
Maybe later you wonder how you did it. How any man could possibly do what you have done.
It's easy.
A man didn't.