>>TO: UEF ULTRABAND (C-34928S)
>>FROM: CORPORAL FALL H. VALKYIR (UHF-98U-9ITY-78)
>>SUBJECT: BURN LETTER
>>READCON: READ UPON DEATH/MIA
>MESSAGE START<
This is one of those mandatory letters they make you write in restCON to make you think about the perspectives you have in life and make you more "human". God knows we need enough of that these days. Goddamn cams are watching me right now, so I guess I'll start from the top.
I was born in New San Diego, UEF. January 22, 2278. Blasted through school as one of those students in the back that never raised a hand. Hell, do they even do classrooms anymore? I don't know. Everything's a bit fuzzy since the last memory wipe.
Can't remember those days. Pushed it down further than I thought, specifically when I came out to my parents that I was gay. That was a nuclear firestorm to set me in the military anyway. Screw my parents. I was just being honest. Was that so wrong? I remembered a time when it wasn't illegal to be who you were. They proved the gay gene existed, and it still wasn't enough. Hell, I don't even know what I'm angry about anymore.
While we're being honest, I was scared shitless, bouncing around the streets. Stories and adventures not worth telling. Then the war. I was 22 then.
Everyone loves to praise technological advances, and then one day they gain sentience and decide to wipe out humanity. It's difficult to feel safe when every street corner has a microchip tracking you 24/7. They had to pull the plug on the entire grid. The chaos was incredible, humans so reliant on tech that they couldn't handle a blackout. Heard a couple thousand committed suicide because they lost access to the net.
But, back to honesty. That's all the rage these days. Ask the robots and they'll tell you the only truth is for humanity's extinction. Your coms always need you to be honest short of just reading your brain. No reason not to, but it's hard to tell the truth when you're fighting invincible machines that feel nothing. Find one guy who tells you he's not scared, and I promise you he's a lying sack of shit.
It's ironic really, that humans need to feel more robotic to fight them. You can trade your memories for rank promotions, replacing them with indoc materials. Suddenly you wake up and you can't remember where you were born, who your parents were, or how you got into this mess. Funny I can't remember what I chose to forget. That irony's overrated nowadays.
We're treated like them too, eating, sleeping, and fighting like we're machines. If you die, they throw your dog file into the heap, where it gets sent to whoever in the family still remembers you. My parents are probably dead, but I don't really care. Most of my family died when they took San Antonio. Maybe they turned into machines. I'd like to shoot through their metal skulls.
Yet here we are, part of the bullshit "Humanization Program" to emphasize our human qualities. We're amazing little people that went to the moon, cured cancer, and solved world hunger, all on our own, without the help of AI's. They make us have sex whenever possible to try and bring out those "emotions". Weird thing is, I think the machines wanna kill us because they don't understand human emotion. Maybe they're jealous? I wouldn't mind giving a robot a blowie.
Not to mention how hard it is for me to try. They make me pair up with a girl in the company, some beautiful little thing whose name I can't remember right now, mostly because I wish it was a guy and they don't allow that. I should be thankful they haven't taken me out back and shot me already, but I think it's because they need every last man. Breed kids for the war. Become sex crazed breeding robots so you can create more robots to fight robots.
Maybe the best part of this war is you're not actually killing other humans. Feel thankful that we're not like our grandfathers that used to fight each other, back when countries still existed. All we are is just a good little line of toy soldiers popping laser aimed shots into robot head plates like it was some sort of perverse fetish. The armor injects you with a combat high when you do it, like some sort of valtrix drug that gives you a euphoric burst. You get a high every time a robot gets phazed in the head.
That's the military for you. The protector of humanity. UEF goes a long way in a society that embraces violence and savagery. Take a guy like me off the street, and transform that rage into something you can't recognize.
The military for the savior. A soulless automatic construct that takes you and shapes you into what it wants. Humans are infinitely malleable, and they made me believe my commanders and bunkmates are the best thing in the world. Fighting for a common cause, dying for what's right, that's the good stuff. Can't complain, though. Get free meals, play with big guns, play with girls, and then play with the robots. It's all relative. Heaven if I ever saw one.
I think I finally remember what I told them to erase. Not that it matters. What was his name? Jacob? I don't know. Not worth digging back into.
I don't know that anyone's going to read this. Probably not. They don't tell you which burn letter they save. Anyways, I've passed the minimum word limit, so here's me signing off.
Any future people that read this, don't put blind faith in machines. They'll end up sucking you into death. Give human emotions some credit. We're not meant to be goddamn calculators.
Try being who you are. Or don't. They'll wipe your memory anyway.
>MESSAGE END<
>>ARCHIVED SU-897O
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