We Free Men

[Enkidu]

Wedel Mining Station. T-08:00 before Zero Hour.

What are people to war? Meat? To fill our machines?

The adage is that we fight machines, not people. Soldiers fight machines. It's the debate theatre that chooses why the machines are fighting. Out there, in the screaming fireworks of combat flight, you're just covering the Arbeiter next to you. He's covering you.


It's a comforting theory. Perhaps it gives some solace to who we are. What we have done. What has been done to us. Sacrificed under the wheels of machines.

It's simple and senseless enough to have appeal in the crack-eyed beer halls of the Alster Unioners, right until the guts of those same halls were charred into atomic ash.

Machines. Is the crop rotavator that feeds the insurgency, an abominable machine? Is a space habitat?

Is a Unioner, who would do anything to call themselves something other than a soldier, a machine? Some days, it does seem like we are just going through the motions.

Mechanical men. But, we're free.

Perhaps it's not freedom from, but freedom to.

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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