After the initial panic attack have passed, the solitude of the spaceship came for me. Blood started coming in my face and cold sweat took over my forehead. I could feel my heart trying to get out, escape the thoughts that were spinning in a tornado.
I felt guilt for what I’ve done and nothing could convince me it was a good deed. With a needle in my hand, I looked at that thin piece of metal and wondered “How something so small can annihilate a planet?”
My future was unclear. Maybe my people will celebrate me like a hero, but I knew what I did. I was well aware of my actions and if my society won’t punish me, my brain will take care of that.
The reality was grim either way. I was a baby obtained by the military and stamped as ‘stillborn’ in the nursery papers. I never met my biological family. The team of generals broke us and rebuilt us to an Iron Garrison, an army made of steel nerves – Stillborns.
It all came to that old riddle we laugh at when we were young.
“If you kill one person, you are a murderer.
If you kill ten, you are a serial killer.
If you kill hundred, you’re a madman.
If you kill thousand, you are a terrorist.
If you kill ten thousand, you are a General.
If you kill hundred thousand, you are a President.”
I wonder what are you if you kill a million?
And some stories that will make you lustfull.