Pixilated war,
And out in the real fields
Insurgents rally against
Tin men and robotic dogs.
Death from above,
Artillery & first-person drones.
I sip an energy drink
In 60° AC Fahrenheit weather,
I don't stop to think
As to if orders deserve questions
And whether I would be satisfied with answers.
They don't have drafts,
We have programs & apps
To pilot steel fellas.
Suppress, eliminate, rescue,
Some of them even punch up the graphics.
Last week, I traipsed through
The inhospitable Arabian Desert,
Many decades ago rendered entirely uninhabitable,
To help diplomats involved in a helicopter crash.
The day after that,
I was in the snowy north
Fighting red droids.
And soon after,
On an island in the Pacific
Defending from adversarial users.
I must have died 10,000 times.
And from what I hear on the news
We make advances only to be set back,
And vice versa,
But it's been seventeen good years
Going back & forth.
I don't know if I can recall what we're fighting over.