FRGVN
I put the muzzle of my pistol up against my head and paused. If this was the last thing I was going to feel, I wanted to experience it all. The metal was cool against my skin which was in contrast to the warm evening air that pressed against my face and hands. I put my twitching finger on the trigger then I pulled the level back until there was a loud sound.
I came to work every day and every day I left work and there was not a single care if I repeated this schedule tomorrow. When my father died I was depressed and miserable for weeks, but there were no condolences, cards, or calls. No one said anything. Somebody might say that it's me-maybe I'm to blame and maybe I am. But I don't think so in this case. I was a good worker, I cared about the people around me and I was a shift leader. What it boiled down to was them and their attitude towards me. I was not one of them and in this case, I think it might have been a good thing. They were unethical, lazy, and hardly qualified for their jobs, but they found themselves employed the same as me.
No, this isn't about them. They're hardly worth the time to pen this letter, but they are worth mentioning if anything so that I can tell them to find employment elsewhere. Perhaps as ditch diggers or one of those people that guard the shipping yards. Something that doesn't require any pride or actual work.
I was deployed with the United Worlds of Earth Marines on a far off-planet called M-Tahl. We just called it "Tall." I was fine-even after serving 14 years in the Marines I was doing OK. I had some trouble with crowds now and then, but nothing that started a panic. It was when I accepted the job on the Department of World Justice's Direct Action Teams that I learned what brutality truly is. Or was. I'm not sure anymore. I see the children's faces in my dreams and their cries for help scream into my subconscious until I'm awake and sweating, looking, seeking, yearning to help them, but there is no one there. I started sleeping in the broom closet just so I didn't scramble out of bed and crash into things. I was shot, in the stomach, one day during a raid and that ensured I retired after 20 years of straight service. 20 years and it was over just like that. I didn't get a watch, but I did get this fancy new leg.
I was hired as a terrorism consultant, which is where I was surrounded by the useless and stupid. In that sea of lameness, it wasn't hard to stand out so I was promoted quickly. I felt like my life was getting back on track as I had progressed from sleeping in the closet to sleeping on the floor. Even got a dog named "Dirty." A mutt that I loved.
It was just me and Dirty until I met this beautiful woman. I hadn't dated much or at all in my adult life. I was so committed to my profession that I forgot and when I finally got around to it, I felt I was so damaged that I would be useless to anyone that tried to like me let alone love me. However, she and I hit it off and things were moving along nicely.
I spent a life time saving lives. I was a medic in the Marines. My job on the DAT was hostage rescue. My position as a consultant was to ensure terrorist had a hard time killing children if not found it entirely impossible. I gave my kidney to my father, blood to my brothers, and my soul in exchange for one more chance to save one more life. I didn't do this because I was looking for jewels in heaven. I did this because I felt called to do it. There was something about it that made me feel more me when I was putting everything on the line to give someone one more day. So when that special woman in my life told me she was pregnant, I felt that I had hit the ultimate jack pot. "Father." I was elated right up until the day that she told me she had an abortion. 14 weeks along, my child died without so much as a loving parent around. She did it while I was at work, busy on some paper I was writing. A life time of saving lives and I couldn't save the one life that mattered most to me. Which brings me to this cat walk above my apartment.
I thought, in a sleepless binge, that if I could just see him, I could apologize for not being able to protect him. I failed him and in my failing, he paid the ultimate price. When I put that gun up to my head and pulled the trigger, the idea I had was to prostate myself before him and beg him to forgive me. That once special lady didn't understand, which is why I couldn't face her anymore after that day. She begged for me to forgive her and come back, but I couldn't-not until I made it right with our child. Until then, I put the gun against my head and waited for the light to shine.
The sound of the gun was as empty as my promise to protect that child. But there was something more. The gun did not go off. It didn't even chamber a round and the coils did not magnetize. I lowered the pistol and flipped it over. The information screen read, "FAILED ROUND GENERATED / VIOLATION NANOCODE 1545: FRIEND DETECTED." I let the pistol drop to the salvage grounds far, far below the tower.
I wasn't ready for this next step and I was totally unsure of how to proceed. It had been two years since that day and I had planned for this event and this event only. I had no job, no income, no home, and no vehicle. Just me and this setting sun. I watched it, the last sun set of my old life and for the first time in years, I looked forward to the dawn.
I came to work every day and every day I left work and there was not a single care if I repeated this schedule tomorrow. When my father died I was depressed and miserable for weeks, but there were no condolences, cards, or calls. No one said anything. Somebody might say that it's me-maybe I'm to blame and maybe I am. But I don't think so in this case. I was a good worker, I cared about the people around me and I was a shift leader. What it boiled down to was them and their attitude towards me. I was not one of them and in this case, I think it might have been a good thing. They were unethical, lazy, and hardly qualified for their jobs, but they found themselves employed the same as me.
No, this isn't about them. They're hardly worth the time to pen this letter, but they are worth mentioning if anything so that I can tell them to find employment elsewhere. Perhaps as ditch diggers or one of those people that guard the shipping yards. Something that doesn't require any pride or actual work.
I was deployed with the United Worlds of Earth Marines on a far off-planet called M-Tahl. We just called it "Tall." I was fine-even after serving 14 years in the Marines I was doing OK. I had some trouble with crowds now and then, but nothing that started a panic. It was when I accepted the job on the Department of World Justice's Direct Action Teams that I learned what brutality truly is. Or was. I'm not sure anymore. I see the children's faces in my dreams and their cries for help scream into my subconscious until I'm awake and sweating, looking, seeking, yearning to help them, but there is no one there. I started sleeping in the broom closet just so I didn't scramble out of bed and crash into things. I was shot, in the stomach, one day during a raid and that ensured I retired after 20 years of straight service. 20 years and it was over just like that. I didn't get a watch, but I did get this fancy new leg.
I was hired as a terrorism consultant, which is where I was surrounded by the useless and stupid. In that sea of lameness, it wasn't hard to stand out so I was promoted quickly. I felt like my life was getting back on track as I had progressed from sleeping in the closet to sleeping on the floor. Even got a dog named "Dirty." A mutt that I loved.
It was just me and Dirty until I met this beautiful woman. I hadn't dated much or at all in my adult life. I was so committed to my profession that I forgot and when I finally got around to it, I felt I was so damaged that I would be useless to anyone that tried to like me let alone love me. However, she and I hit it off and things were moving along nicely.
I spent a life time saving lives. I was a medic in the Marines. My job on the DAT was hostage rescue. My position as a consultant was to ensure terrorist had a hard time killing children if not found it entirely impossible. I gave my kidney to my father, blood to my brothers, and my soul in exchange for one more chance to save one more life. I didn't do this because I was looking for jewels in heaven. I did this because I felt called to do it. There was something about it that made me feel more me when I was putting everything on the line to give someone one more day. So when that special woman in my life told me she was pregnant, I felt that I had hit the ultimate jack pot. "Father." I was elated right up until the day that she told me she had an abortion. 14 weeks along, my child died without so much as a loving parent around. She did it while I was at work, busy on some paper I was writing. A life time of saving lives and I couldn't save the one life that mattered most to me. Which brings me to this cat walk above my apartment.
I thought, in a sleepless binge, that if I could just see him, I could apologize for not being able to protect him. I failed him and in my failing, he paid the ultimate price. When I put that gun up to my head and pulled the trigger, the idea I had was to prostate myself before him and beg him to forgive me. That once special lady didn't understand, which is why I couldn't face her anymore after that day. She begged for me to forgive her and come back, but I couldn't-not until I made it right with our child. Until then, I put the gun against my head and waited for the light to shine.
The sound of the gun was as empty as my promise to protect that child. But there was something more. The gun did not go off. It didn't even chamber a round and the coils did not magnetize. I lowered the pistol and flipped it over. The information screen read, "FAILED ROUND GENERATED / VIOLATION NANOCODE 1545: FRIEND DETECTED." I let the pistol drop to the salvage grounds far, far below the tower.
I wasn't ready for this next step and I was totally unsure of how to proceed. It had been two years since that day and I had planned for this event and this event only. I had no job, no income, no home, and no vehicle. Just me and this setting sun. I watched it, the last sun set of my old life and for the first time in years, I looked forward to the dawn.
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