Rank me. Stripe me early. Give me the louder stick. Doctrine me. Brief me on whose sandpit is currently mine. Deploy the bigger boom because the smaller one already got boring. Collateral the other side of the playground. Call the crater a successful objective. Promote the one who didn't flinch when the toys stopped looking like toys. Geneva me into obedience like this is still a game with rules. After-action the damage. Sanitize the names of the ones who were only playing on the wrong side of the fence. Chain-of-command me all the way up to the boy with the biggest desk and the reddest button. Let him press it the way we used to press the big red button on the toy that made the siren sound. Debrief me later. Tell me how well we played. Tell me the noise was necessary. Tell me the boom was the point all along. — UpsilonA




There are no rules.
The contrast between the language of war and childhood play really struck me. That ending is hard to shake.