#like when looking at how he frames the memoir he's pretty mindful about responding to that kind of transphobic narrative

[thepoisonroom]

Trans Book of the Day #1

Welcome to St. Hell: My Trans Teen Misadventure by Lewis Hancox

Lewis has a few things to say to his younger teen self. He knows she hates her body. He knows she's confused about who to snog. He knows she's really a he and will ultimately realize this... but she's going to go through a whole lot of mess (some of it funny, some of it not funny at all) to get to that point. Lewis is trying to tell her this... but she's refusing to listen.

In WELCOME TO ST. HELL, author-illustrator Lewis Hancox takes readers on the hilarious, heartbreaking, and healing path he took to make it past trauma, confusion, hurt, and dubious fashion choices in order to become the man he was meant to be. It's a remarkable, groundbreaking graphic memoir from an unmistakably bold new voice in comics.

Really dug this one, especially for its frank discussion of trying to find an identity that fits when you have limited language and resources to do so! I thought the strongest and most distinctive parts of the graphic novel were:

The asides where Hancox invites commentary from his friends and family about their actions and reactions during his childhood, teenage years, and early transition. He has huge empathy for the ways that misinformation create obstacles to social and medical transition, even within a well-intentioned support network. The segments where he and his mother talk about lack of information on youth transition and HRT making them both anxious about actively addressing his early childhood dysphoria are particularly strong.

Discussion of eating disorders as a response to dysphoria during puberty. This is something that I've rarely seen addressed in literature even though it's such a common experience for a lot of trans people.

Depiction of coming into new identities and how that both does and does not change your relationships. I can see this being a great read for teens who are anxious about theirs or their friends' evolving identities altering the dynamic between them.

This is a super charming, very frank and funny memoir that I think will resonate with both teenagers and adults. Hancox doesn't shy away from critiquing barriers to transition in the UK, but the main focus of the book is his warm, empathetic depiction of his younger self and his loved ones.

[justlookatthosesausages]

:: “Memoirs” :: post-Frozen 2 Time Travel AU

======= CHAPTER 8 (END) I open at the close =======

“Okay, I know you can’t tell me what I said in the future memory and also what you said, and also what Kristoff said, and what my daughter said...” Blabbered Anna with a fast voice, already gasping for air under Elsa’s amused eyes. “But there must be a thing... Or two... That you can tell me without dropping major stuff, right?”

Elsa finished smiling before thinking. They were seated on the ice floor of Ahtohallan, Anna with her forearms on her bend knees, and Elsa in lotus position close to her, an elbow on her leg as one hand held her cheek with a touched grin on her lips. Anna had been adorably curious since she woke up from the visions of the future.

“Well... I saw three different memories, from three different moments. One was when you were pregnant, one was after you gave birth, and the third one...” 

Anna instantly blushed.

“Oh my goodness, please don’t tell me that you saw Kristoff and I... Doing the...”

Elsa frowned in confusion, then choked on laughter. 

“No!” She wheezed, trying to catch her breath back, and Anna let out a relieved gasp. “No, are you crazy?!”

The blonde lifted her head, still laughing. “You would never show me that kind of thing, would you?” She asked to Ahtohallan. 

The glacier flickered with bright lights, and the sisters interpreted from it a mix of an offended gasp, a ‘Of course, duh’ and a loud laughter. 

Anna massaged the back of her neck. “Okay, sorry for interrupting. What was the third memory?”

“Your daughter was grown up, aged of 10 years old, I think - that I can say, it won’t make any impact - and we were telling her a bed time story.”

The redhead melted with a touched smile and wet eyes. “Awww.”

She then bit her lip with a grunt. “Hnnnn, it’s so hard for me to not ask you what her name is!!”

“Yep. I get you. And there’s no way I’m going to tell you.”

Anna’s nails scratched the ice under them in an exaggerated upset gesture. “This is torture!!”

Elsa giggled. “I’m sorry. Hold on, maybe I can think of something else...”

Ahtohallan sent a warning pulse to her mind. She winced a bit at it. “Yes, yes, I’m careful, I promise.” She mumbled, looking up at the magic ceiling. 

The redhead smirked, her gaze alternating between the magic source and Elsa. The Snow Queen pouted as she thought.��

“Hmmm... Something that doesn’t reveal too much...” Her thinking Scrunch then switched to the most emotional and touched expression. “She looked just like you. Truly your spitting image.”

Anna’s smile stretched to all her face, and she gasped as tears now fell on her cheeks. She let out a cute giggle, and looked up to Ahtohallan. ‘Is she allowed to say that?’ seemed written on her face, but the glacier didn’t react, and her face melted as she stared at Elsa again. The elder shared her smile. 

“Though I have to say, she looked a bit like Kristoff as well.” 

The Queen fanned herself with her hands. “This is adorable.”

The blonde laughed. “If that makes you this emotional, just imagine me who saw the whole thing.”

Anna gasped, and grabbed her hand. “True. Oh my gosh, how did you even hold the secret about the fact I’d have a daughter for so long?” She admired. 

Elsa snorted. “I told you less than 24 hours afterwards. I blurted it out in no time.”

The two sisters laughed together, their voices echoing in the giant room. 

“Hey, you haven’t told me: what did you look like?”

Elsa started to blush. “How is that important?”

“Come on, I’d freak out in the best way if I saw my own self in older version. Tell me!”

Elsa now blushed deeply, and looked down with a shy smile. “I looked great. I mean, I... I looked okay. Very... In shape.” 

Anna had an amused smirk as she stared at her elder being bashful. Whatever she had seen, it had marked her. In a good way, she presumed, given her blush. She didn’t insist much, and simply replied with a nod and a smile. 

“So, I can’t really ask you more, uh? All I’m supposed to know is that, I’ll have a daughter with Kristoff; that the reason why you won’t be there at her birth is because you will be saving Ahtohallan from raiders; and then that we’ll be the best mother and aunt ever?”

The Fifth Spirit smiled tenderly. “Pretty much, yes.”

A silence passed. 

“Yet I can see in your eyes that you want to tell me much more.” Noted Anna. 

“There are a thousand things I also want to tell you.” Grinned Elsa. “But, each thing at its own time. You’ll have answers as they come naturally.” 

“Alright.” Smiled Anna, a bit disappointed but respectful. She also had enough wisdom to understand that if she asked too much, she would alter and maybe ruin her own future, and after Elsa’s retelling, she didn’t want any other than this one. 

They finished chatting then stood up slowly, facing each other, and Elsa suddenly held Anna by the shoulders. The move surprised the redhead, just like she had been when her elder had suddenly hugged her when she woke up from the memories, but she rolled with it happily. 

“Anna.”

“Uh-uh?”

“You were right all along. I wasn’t dead- I mean, I won’t be dead on that day. Your unique positivity led you right as always.”

Anna smiled, and passed a hand in Elsa’s hair to tuck it aside after a strand had fell in front of her face. She did all she could to make the gesture reassuring, soft and warm. 

“Of course you wouldn’t die, you silly.” She said, and she could see the emotion tightening her elder’s throat. “And of course I was right. I’m always right.”

Elsa chuckled at her humorous addition, that Anna had purposely made to light up her mood. It worked, and she nodded as a thank you. 

“Also, you can miss a birth anytime if it’s to be a badass in Ahtohallan and protecting it from invaders.” Assured Anna.

Elsa chuckled.  “I’m so happy that we finally found out the truth.” 

She then frowned, and lifted her eyes to the dome.

“What I don’t get is that… If you wanted to show me that event in the future, you getting raided and needing my help to defend you, then why did you not show me a memory of the raid? Why did you show me a memory of a moment I talk about it?” 

Ahtohallan didn’t respond, and Anna smirked.

“Maybe they didn’t want you to get too much details about the attack so that you would fight them without much indications. Just the essentials, only broadly speaking. Exactly like a bed time story.” 

The blonde nodded, but blinked in confusion. 

“And how come I already know about it in the future they showed me?”

Anna had a thinking pout, bending her head, then suddenly her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers, her mouth open in a O. “It’s a time paradox!! You know about it because you just learned about it. It’s a loop!”

Elsa’s eyes widened just as large. “Oh my God.”

“You can call me Anna.” Joked the redhead, sticking her tongue out.

She bounced in joy. “Now I get why you got so excited earlier. Nerdy theories are funny.”

Some lights brightened, and Ahtohallan seemed to approve.

“And that’s not even the most beautiful.”

“What is?” Asked Elsa. 

When she turned to her younger, she was smiling warmly. “The reason why Ahtohallan showed you those memories of my daughter... It’s a reward, as a thank you from them for saving the whole glacier from the raid. They showed you what you couldn’t see while you were here helping them.” She explained, gesturing at the magical source.

Elsa’s eyes glittered with emotion, and she gulped with a soft smile. She nodded to her sister’s analysis, and lifted her head. “Thank you.”

Ahtohallan’s lights flickered as a “You’re very welcome.” gesture.

Suddenly, all the floating beams turned to bright white, and the sister suddenly hissed and groaned at it. 

“Woaw, what is this?” Grumbled Anna, squinting and protecting her eyes with her arm.

“I think it’s our way back”, muttered Elsa on the same tone and with the same gesture. “I can feel the love emanating from it.”

“Love?” Repeated Anna. She knew that Elsa shared a special and unique connection with Ahtohallan, and that it’s how she was able to translate the glacier’s emotions to her, but that was confusing. Ahtohallan’s feeling in the end was love for them?

The white light turned to blue, and Anna let out a gasp as she recognized it. It was exactly the same than the one emanating from the magic rock she had touched in the Forest, and that had brought them two in the past in the first place. She could also feel that it was the same sensation, palpable in the air. 

“So that was caring love...” Murmured both sisters in one voice, then they turned to each other and grinned. 

“Thank you!” Smiled Anna to the magic source, as the light got even more intense. “That was quite an adventure. And even if the main goal was to show Elsa the future and thank her for it, you allowed us to see our parents on that day. Now I can tick ‘travel through time’ on my bucket list, and, honestly... Life goals.”

Elsa laughed by her side, and slid her hand in hers. 

“Are you ready?”

Anna looked at the light. “I was born ready.”

“Technically, you aren’t...”

“Born yet, yes. I’ve been thinking of that pun for two days now.”

They giggled, and all the white light condensed all along the dome to one spot, the size of a large door big enough for them to both go in, and Elsa recognized this spot on the wall as being the entrance she went through to dive into the past on her first visit. 

It made sense: now was a time when Ahtohallan was used to see memories of the future; so, in order to go back to 30 years forward, they had to go through there. Anna clenched her hand as they walked.

“Elsa... I wonder... If the Northuldra chief was indeed the Fifth Spirit and he saw memories of the future, then he knew that he would die that day because of our grandfather, right?”

Elsa nodded with sadness. “Yes. I suppose that he accepted that it was his destiny.”

The reminding of how the Northuldra chief died suddenly made something hit in Elsa. “Wait... When I went deep down in the memories, the first time I went here, through that frame... I actually connected with his part of Ahtohallan.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Is that why you froze? I thought that it was just because you searched for a secret memory?”

“...Maybe it also was because I was entering a reversed Ahtohallan, with time memories going the other way...” 

Anna stopped right before reaching the frame.

“Do you think that the reason why you saw Ahtohallan in pieces 30 years later on your first visit is because it got flipped upside down, memories now going the other way, because you headed to the glacier with the intention to get answers about the past?”

The two sisters remained silent at all the possibilities this offered. 

“That’s another mystery we’ll maybe never have the answer of.” Murmured Elsa. 

Anna nudged her. “Don’t be pessimistic. We managed to solve this one, didn’t we?”

Elsa shared her smile. “That’s right. We did.”

Ahtohallan sent an insisting pulse to her mind. “Alright, alright, we’re going.” Chuckled the Snow Queen. 

“Back to present time, then.” Smiled Anna, and Elsa nodded.

They stepped to the light together, and felt cocooned as it came over them. It indeed was a light of love, and it was so bright that they clenched their eyes shut, and felt dizzy for a moment. 

=======

When they opened their eyes, they were standing in the Forest, exactly where they had been standing before Anna bowed to touch the glowing rock. 

The redhead looked down and noticed that it had disappeared, and startled when Elsa suddenly palpated her arms to make sure that her younger was alright. 

“I’m fine, Elsa.” Chuckled Anna. 

“Sorry, I just... I had to make sure. Did all that... Happened?”

“You didn’t dream. And I sure hope that all you saw of the future will happen.”

“It will. That’s the whole point.” Smiled Elsa.

They looked at each other and hugged, more by mannerism than anything else, just glad they both made it, and lived such a crazy experience. 

When they stepped back from the hug, they looked around, surrounded by the sounds of the forest. It felt like they hadn’t come here in ages, and it was actually literal. 

“THERE YOU ARE!” Suddenly yelled a voice behind them. 

Elsa turned around at Honeymaren’s angry tone. 

“I’ve been looking for you for a full hour!” Frowned the Northuldra, walking to them. 

“Only an hour?” Smiled Elsa, and she gave a side look to Anna, who chuckled.

“What?” Frowned Honeymaren when she was close, and this time, her voice was worried. “Where were you? I got really concerned.”

“Oh, we were... Here and there...” Shrugged Anna. 

“ANNA!” 

She briskly lifted her head at the sound of Kristoff calling her. He ran to them, glad they found them again. 

“We got so worried! I was about to prepare the cart to go back to Arendelle, and...”

He caught up his breath, his hands on his hips as he stared at the sisters. “Did you two purposely hide? Elsa, did you try to kidnap my wife so she would stay longer with you in the Forest this week?” He added with a laugh. 

Elsa laughed and shook her head. “No. I would never take her away from you. I promise.” She said, her gaze going to Anna as well. 

The redhead smiled, and hanged to Kristoff’s neck to kiss him deeply on the lips. He got surprised by the intensity, but gave it back to her.

“Okay. Time to go.” She blushed once she was done, tapping his chest awkwardly. 

He nodded and turned around, and as the redhead was about to follow him, she turned to Elsa. “See you next Friday, then.” 

“It sounds weird to say it now, isn’t it?” Whispered the blonde. 

“Totally.” Whispered back Anna. 

“What are you two whispering about?” Smirked Honeymaren. 

“Nothing!” Exclaimed the Queen. 

She trotted behind Kristoff, then turned around one last time. “Hey, Elsa!”

“Yes?” Smiled the blonde. 

“Any chance you tell me her name now?”

Elsa chuckled and shook her head. “None. Just go, you dork.” 

Anna turned around and giggled openly, filling the woods with the echo of her sunny laugh.

======= THE END =======

[topsolarpanels]

Know Your Enemy: Celebrating 50 Years of the Forever War

Robert Sammelin

No one drank more than the scientist. Every night, after whatever patriotic black-tie gala marriage played props at, he could be found at the hotel bar, trying to extract existential meaning from a banana colada. It was an odd drinking of option for such a serious human, but only once did he respond to our interrogations about it.

It pleases the nerve fibers, he said, all baritone to his voice, before disappearing into the chilled yellow muck again. We were in New Tulsa, debriefing after a grueling dinner with a bunch of white-haired solar energy exec. Wed been on the road for months, and morale used to go the way of the glacier. I ordered a round for the table, and we toasted to the hustle. Heroes of the nation, peddling war bonds by day, drinking like froufrous by night. Our drill instructor would not have been proud.

Maybe it wasnt New Tulsa. Maybe itd been in Charlotte after the fund-raiser with the nanofinance douchebags. Anyhow.

There were 11 of us on the bond drive, 12 if you included the JngerBot. The Forever War had just entered its sixth decade, and our politicians didnt pretend they were going to end it anymore, even during elections. They couldnt. Wed tried everything: nation-building, nation-destroying, sending terrorists and their families to the Mars penal colony, sending the rebel Young Siberians to actual Siberia. Nothing had worked. We were at war because we always had been. We were at war because we always would be. We were at war because we were at war.

Matt Gallagher

About

Matt Gallagher is the author of the novel Youngblood and the Iraq memoir Kaboom: Embracing the Suck in a Savage Little War.

The government decided to celebrate the Forever Wars golden anniversary with loud, shiny bombast. We were part of that bombast. AMERICAS HEROES, TOGETHER AT LAST, ran the tagline. We were like a roving assortment act, but without name recognition or singing or sex appeal. Without anything, truly. Just pasts wiped clean with the antiseptic of narrative. So we stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our tales to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

After the coladas, I settled the tab and excused myself. The younger veterinarians night was just beginning, but mine was nearing its end. In the queue for the teleporter to the rooms, a human about my age waited behind me. He wore a rumpled dress shirt and an overlong tie-in and a goatee on the brink of coherence.

He was looking everywhere but my hoverchair. People with legs always do that. It reminds me of the route some men used to try very hard not to look at my cleavage when I was younger. The endeavor simply underlines the fixation.

Thank you, he said. For what you did.

Thank you for your supporting, I told, a answer as hollow as it was practiced. He mustve been at the event earlier.

Cancan I tell you something?

Sure, I told. Women in military uniforms have this impact on men in dress shirts, for some reason. If youd like to.

I wanted to be a recon marine when I was a kid. He said it like it was a church confession, something hidden away in the lost rifts of his soul for decades. Did the recon workout at the gym for years, he continued. Stupid, I know.

I nodded, both because it was stupid and because I knew.

Youre a bona fide hero. The men segue was as graceful as a startled dog, but it was late. That scientist, though. Hes killing people. And not only the enemy.

I thought about “the mens” words. They were true enough. So what would you do? I asked. If you were him.

Me? The man stroked his goatee. I wouldnt even know.

Pragmatically, I told. Youre the scientist. You live in this country. The wars happening. You can perhaps aim it or not. Either style, people succumb. What do you do?

II object to the question. And to the idea. Im not him. The human voice had a quiver to it now. Not an angry quiver, either. A frightened one. I was just sayingI dont think its right. Thats all.

OK, I said. Night. It was my turning at the teleporter. I get in and went to my room. I didnt begrudge the man his opting out. We all had in some manner. Even us.

Especially us.

The Federals had discovered me at my sisters, on the porch, scrolling through a holopad article about the rabid lemur thatd killed Justin Bieber Jr. Furious George Howls With Delight! read the headline. Its always spooky when sons succumb the same way their fathers did. The past comprehend us all, eventually. Even Biebers.

I was on my seventh year of an indefinite visit, still sleeping in a bare guest room. A potted flower or framed scene would have felt like marks of permanence, somehow. Id been living in increments since high school and wasnt about to stop simply because I couldnt figure out what to do with the rest of my life.

Theywell, welived at the top of a windy mound in a suburbium of a suburbium, wedged between a stand of wild honeysuckle and a pond shaped like a swollen snout. It was green and quiet. The kind of place where big flags hung from porches with humility. I taught painting at the community center and took my nieces to soccer practice and spend my Saturday nights at the one townie bar that served ros.

The life didnt induce me happy or anything, but it could have. Maybe should have.

There were three of them. They all wore jeans and plaid shirts of differing blandness. Id have expected suits and black sunglasses, but the decay effects of after-empire were reaching and vast.

Chief Warrant Officer Valerie Speer? one said. Well, asked. I didnt look my part, either. Female veterinarians tend to cut a certain mold. A liter-sized gremlin in a gardening hat wasnt it.

They told me about the bond drive. About how it would inspire patriotism again in the hearts and minds of the person or persons. About how it would get everyday citizens invested in the wars again.( Like they ever were. I knew the history .) About how the governmental forces needed the money, how 50 years of blowing up things in strange, faraway places had taken its toll on the budget, especially since the geothermal insurgency in Blue Russia began eating away at Uncle sam foreign trade.

About how the bond drive needed a woman on it, because they had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot, and showing that heroes were as diverse as the country mattered.

I laughed. A female. I danced my metal fingers through the air. In the right sun my prosthetics could look like flesh. We werent in it. Thats why you need me.

That made the two men in jeans and plaid look down at the ground, but the woman Fed just stared at me.

Youre Valerie Speer, she said. The tone in her voice sounded so earnest it snapped. Do you know what you mean to my generation of status of women? I joined the agency because of you.

She was lying about that, I was almost sure. But shed appealed to my pride. I danced my fingers through the air again and took in all the green, all the quiet. Seven years here. Seven years that had induced me soft. Did people my age go on escapades anymore?

I requested information about financial compensation.

Heres the thing about being labeled a war hero: You either love it or hate it. Theres little space for mixed impressions. Take the scientist. Invented a drone mosquito that gives people the runs, sold it to the military, and stopped the Arabican conflict practically overnight. You cant fire a rifle when youre crapping out your brains. But some of the mosquitoes werent as specific as billed. During strafes, they bit foes and civilians alike. Which wouldnt have mattered much had we been fighting in the developed world. We werent, though. Outbreaks of dysentery and super-cholera followed, and the last UN estimate I watched numbered deaths in the tens of thousands.

The bond drive needed a woman on it. They already had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot.

The scientist had ended a war all with his mind. Yet the only thing he wanted in the world was to return to his lab, to his anonymity, and forget any of it ever happened.

The JngerBot seemed to resent the attention for other reasons. It didnt know what to induce of people, and truth be told, people didnt know what to attain of it. They could handle robots, had been dealing with them all their lives. Even the rough-and-tumble behaviour of a regular InfantryBot could be explained away. But an elite InfantryBot 5000 upgraded with the transcendental heroism and philosophical musings of decorated German World War I soldier Ernst Jnger? That caused some issues.

The anarch wages his own wars, the JngerBot said at a fund-raiser to a journalist whod would like to know whether it missed battle. Even when marching in rank and file.

Before a boxing prizefight, the JngerBot felt it necessary to remind the crowd what was what. Furrow opposing is the bloodiest, wildest, most brutal of all, it said to 70,000 drunk revelers in Vegas. Of all the wars exciting moments , none is so powerful as the session of two cyclone troop leaders between narrow trench walls. Theres no compassion there , no going back. The blood speaks from a shrill exclaim of recognition that tears itself from ones breast like a nightmare.

And then there were the children.

It told a 10 -year old with a JngerBot poster on his wall that killing an adversary would be a finer tribute. And when a bank presidents “girls ” pointed to us and asked if we were heroes, the JngerBot objected as only it could TAGEND

Heroes deeds and heroes graves, it said. Old and new you here may assure. How the Empire was created. How the Empire was preserved. It paused. We sought the death of heroes. There is no lovelier demise in the world.

The little girls face paled to glass as her father resulted her away. We all laughed about it , no one harder or longer than Dizzy. Dizzy was a walking, talking debate for breeding the remaining cis-males out of the gene pool, if only he hadnt been so pretty. Drone pilots. They think theyre so starfish because they can laser insurrectionists dead from space. And Dizzy was an superstar. He adored every minute of the bond drive, “members attention”, the parties, the hoverfloat rides, the certain type of female patriot who wanted to see the view from his hotel balcony. Beats going back to Pueblo and coaching CrossFit, hed tell, before unleashing that smile of full, fluoride shine. God, he could charm the sorcery underwear off a Mormon.

Would try, at least.

Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Maybe it was three Iraq wars ago.

Dizzy and the younger vets on the bond drive are always privateersmercenaries if youre the protest, virtual-petition kind. WarriorCorps and Foreign Legion Inc. and Armed Humanitarianism Limited and the like. I was hybrid: part contractor but also part national military, before that ran extinct during the Whig Revolt of 36. Merely Emo Carlos was old enough to have been GI from beginning to end. Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Perhaps it was three Iraq wars ago. Anyhow. We asked Emo Carlos about it over sushi, after a parade in Cleveland.

Jumped on a grenade at a checkpoint, he told, defining down his chopsticks with a shrug. Didnt go off.

We hollered and banged the table just because we could. Itd been a couple decades since anything but a bot had been close enough to a grenade to do anything like that. Even the JngerBot conveyed its admiration.

Defective? I asked.

Emo Carlos nodded. One in a million, they said.

What happened then? Dizzy asked.

The creases in Emo Carlos forehead folded into one another like papier-mch. He usually never talked about anything but drumming for his old-man punk band. Theyd served together back in the day and were known across the greater Rochester area as the Infidels. Geriatric humor.

Stood up, he said. Dusted off. Looked down. Realise Id pissed myself.

We hollered and banged the table all over again.

An elderly couple came over to us subsequently. Theyd overheard our conversation and wanted to say thank you. They said they had two grandsons in privateer training.

I know our thanks is a small thing, the spouse said. He and his wife looked so cute in their nice old-people clothes, khakis and sweaters and thick-rimmed glasses. They looked like other peoples grandparents always look. But sometimes its all those of us here can offer.

The wife nodded. Were all involved, she told. We believe that. As taxpayers, as citizens, thats how it is. Were with you.

We thanked them for thanking us and they left the restaurant.

What did she mean, Were all involved? Dizzy asked. No theyre not.

There were echoes of agreement and deliberation over what the old woman had meant, and not just about the word involved . Also about the word we .

Yo, Emo Carlos told. The table hushed. Theyre from my hour. When wars had objectives. When citizens tried to keep up. America used to be young. Thats what she meant.

Then say that, Dizzy told. Taxes? Who the fucking cares.

Emo Carlos shook his head again. He was trying to clear himself of frustrations, either with himself or with us. Then he pointed at me. Sent her to the damn moon. Supposed to save us all, putting the wars up there. Preserve the land and resources, remove civilian demises. Be tidy and simple. That was the plan.

And no one ever went back, Dizzy told. The game changed.

Well. Emo Carlos giggled. Military lesson numero uno, son, he said. No plan survives first contact.

The rest of us chuckled along with the old wisdom. Everyone but the scientist, who sat off by himself in the corner. He looked up at us with something between sadness and ferocity. It was hard to decide which.

Tidy and simple, he said. I like that.

When my nieces turn 12 and gain access to FreedomNet, they will find these three paragraphs about their aunt, etched into the digital histories forever and ever TAGEND Valerie Jade Speer( born May 2, 2011) was a chief warrant officer( air) and assault pilot in the United States Army and later the privateer organization Star Spangled Security. She was awarded the Star of Valor in 2042 for her actions during the Battle on the Moon, of which she was the only survivor . Deployed to the moon as part of the NATO coalition during the course of its South Seas dispute, Speer flew a Flying Yeager fusion helocraft during the battle, destroying five Chinese Federation space-helos and two Young Siberian cosmo-planes. Struck by an enemy dwarf ballistic, Speer crash-landed into the Titius Crater. She was thus sheltered from the amaze thermonuclear strike carried out by the Young Siberians that killed all other fighters and blew the hole in the moon now known as Putins Smile . Initially presumed dead, Speer was found during NATO recovery operations two days after the end of the combat. She lost three extremities, suffered burns over much of her body, and survived over 90 surgeries. President Natasha Obama told Speers life and narrative are a testament to the American spirit at her Star of Valor ceremony at the White House .

Words can be funny beasts. Her actions suggest some sort of agency, even control. Destroy is such a clean term for such messiness. Struck by defied my memory of it. Same with crash-landed.

Less so with lost. And suffered.

Testament. As if enduring were a selection. I did what anyone would have. There are no atheists in moon craters. And there are no fatalists in survivor wards of one.

I was thinking about that ward as I zipped up my suitcase in my sisters guest room for the bond drive. Thinking about the long stills of quiet during the nights. Guessing about being “ve called the” Burn by nurses who guessed I couldnt hear them. Supposing about the full-thickness graft done without anesthesia.

You sure about this, Val? My sister stood in the doorway. Her posture betrayed opposition. She was four years older and had always asked me questions that she already had answers for. You have options.

Shed said the same years prior, before Id left for the moon.

I am, I told both times, even though I wasnt both days. Id always detected power and resolve in ambiguity, though. Most people werent like that. My sister, for one.

Youve done more than your share, she continued, moving to the bed and putting her arm around my shoulder. So much more. I leaned my head into her and tried to hold in some of the familial warmth. Id miss it, I knew. Only sisters and nieces hug people like me. I dont think its right.

I smiled at that.

Its not, I told. But. If not me, then who?

Even running can be its own form of opting out. I didnt know that the first time. But I did the second. The last night in the guest room, as I tossed and turned in bed, I thought about that. Then I thought about the survivor ward again. And the long stills of quiet during the nights. And being “ve called the” Burn. And the graft.

Somewhere between Omaha and Tesla City, I began to realize just how different the younger vets were. It wasnt simply that they were privateers, either, or that they called adversary combatants pixels as an insult. Dizzy and his crew, they crowed about their service. Owned their superiority, then basked in it.

Do soldiers think theyre better than citizens? Of course. It has nothing to do with what did or didnt happen in their service, either. It has to do with the very notion of joining up. Americas been at war since before most of us were born. We joined because we wanted to go. Wed been told we were special from day one of boot camp, doing something the rest of our nation couldnt. Or worse, wouldnt. Too fat. Too selfish. Too lazy. Which made the realization after we got out that citizens think were beneath them all the more shocking. If theyre fat, selfish, and lazy, then whats worse than that?

We werent supposed to say any of that, though. My generation didnt, at least. We were taught that part of our service was biding quiet about it. To rise above, because thats what Jesus and George Washington and Beyonc wouldve wanted.

Thats what I did. Or tried to, at the least. Let the citizenry think what it wants, ran the logic. All part of being a republic.

Maybe we had it incorrect, though.

I wondered about that the night the protester confronted us. We were in Washington for a gala. Ordinarily “were in” ushered in through side or back door for events, but the organizers of this one had us walking in on a red carpet, through a galaxy of flashing lightings and holographic cameras.

Finally, Dizzy told, pausing to adjust his bow affiliation and lick his front teeth. The treatment we deserve.

Why the protester chose the JngerBot to cream-pie, Ill never know. By the time the uproar had reached my ears and Id floated around in my chair, the JngerBot had the young man by the throat. Request order to remove home-front adversary, it said, which was funny, and then not.

We got the young man free of the JngerBots prongs. He was reed-thin and had thick brown curls with eyes as dark and mad as the moon. I didnt know what to think about him or his pie. People didnt protest war in person anymore. It wasnt sane behavior.

Youre not heroes, he told. His terms were shaky. Its never easy coming face to face with people youve demonized. Or cockpit to cockpit. Youre tools of empire. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

The cameras along the walkway started popping off like mortars. We all only stood there, waiting out his denunciation, because we were there to be seen and applauded , nothing else. His anger dazed me, and the others too. Not Dizzy, though.

Get bent, joker, Dizzy told, intersecting his arms for the cameras. War is bad? No shit. But it wont go forth just cause we want it to. Last month, two brigades from the same base get deployed. One goes to Kurd Mountain, saves those households from the horde. The other goes to Blue Russia, blows up some insurrectionists. Ones a humanitarian mission. The others combat. Both involve destruction.

Id never heard Dizzy speak with eloquence and passion before. He was good, and he knew it. He pressed on.

This JngerBot is a goddamn national gem. I dont know what brought you here tonight, and I dont dedicate a single fucking. We went so you dont “re going to have to”. Suck my hero balls.

The arrogance. The entitlement. The narrowness of thought. I loved it all, and I wasnt the only one. The red carpet explosion with applause. Dizzy even took a bow. But the acclaim wasnt universal.

After the protester had been escorted away and wed run inside for the gala, the scientist saw Dizzy. Dont do that again, he said. He loomed over the younger human like an angry parent. That guy is not your adversary. Neither is anyone else youve met on this stupid tour.

He aint a friend. Dizzy was trying to sound unbothered, and he leaned back in his chair and set his feet on the table. So what is he?

Only morons speak in absolutes, the scientist said.

Dizzy changed tactics. You know what he likely thinks about you? he asked. What all these people say when they think we cant hear? I had a woman tell me she didnt think we were whole human beings. Fuck her, and fuck that protester. Fuck all of them.

I wondered what the answers were to Dizzys questionwhat did people say about us? When they thought about us at all. Beyond the pomp and rite of the bond drive, we werent anything, I supposed. Just ciphers with tales people believed in, or didnt believe in, even before they heard them.

So. What. The scientists voice turned to iron as he responded to Dizzy. Thats the job. We have consequences.

Dizzy opened his mouth, but the scientist cut him off. You did . You did when you didnt “re going to have to”. Thats enough. It has to be. Then he stormed off, presumably for the hotel bar.

The scientist opted out that night. The rest of us did too, by doing the job. We stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our stories to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

We walked back to the hotel as a group after the jamboree. We stopped in a park with green lawns and a marble fountain and joked about the protester, giggled about the scientist. The scientist had been right, but so what? What did being right have to do with anything? Dizzy had regained whatever force-out it was that sustained him and began chatting up a pair of young women who considered themselves patriots. I watched it all and thought about the ward and then my sisters home. The JngerBot came up beside me.

You managed that pie well, I told it. It didnt say anything, so I continued. Waiting for an order, I mean.

Here is our kingdom, the best use of monarchies, the best republic, the JngerBot told. Here is our garden, our happiness.

What a random thing to tell, I thought. Even for a robot. But subsequently, after considering it more, I decided otherwise.

The Fiction Issue

Tales From an Uncertain Future

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