Hello, my name is Charles

by on February 22, 2015 at 12:01 am
Posted In: Diaries

Returning veterans had it the worst on the coasts. The East and West coasts, bastions of socialist and other liberal ideologies, harassed any man with a military haircut. The Midwest was another story entirely. Returning soldiers found thanks, and then a general forgetfulness. They had served. Now they were home. Life went on. But drug addictions, strange illnesses, and post-combat stress followed them home. Even in regions where they were not hated, life was difficult for the veterans of Vietnam.

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Hello, my name is Jack

by on February 21, 2015 at 12:01 am
Posted In: Diaries

I hated the Shang when I volunteered to serve. I volunteered because I wanted to kill as many of them as I could. That was not the right reason for me to volunteer. It took me a long time to figure out a reason to serve that I could live with. Literally. It wasn’t about killing Shang, Chinese, or anyone else I thought had done me or mine wrong. That’s not serving. That’s killing. I got way too close to being a killer.

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Hello, my name is Betty

by on February 20, 2015 at 12:01 am
Posted In: Diaries

The 2050s were a bad time for Earth. The Second Great Depression shattered the combined economy of the world, the Islamic Jihad killed millions of unbelievers, and the Cybernetic Wars ravaged the digital networks that had somehow survived the other two. The Rogue AIs actively supported anyone who stood against The West, Russia, or China and used the chaos to entrench themselves in hellholes all over the planet. There were a lot of hellholes back then.

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Hello, my name is Charles

by on February 19, 2015 at 12:01 am
Posted In: Diaries

Young American men continued to fight in Vietnam through all the chaos back home. Draftees just recently out of school fought for their lives on the other side of the globe. And back home people protesting the war accused them of war crimes. Crowds of jeering longhaired protesters harassed those who survived their enlistments and made it home. They threw rotten food at wounded veterans carried on stretchers. Cries of “baby killers” echoed off the walls. It was a dark time.

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Hello, my name is Jack

by on February 18, 2015 at 12:01 am
Posted In: Diaries

The thing is that we Ageless are different. We will always be different. No matter what we do there will always be people who fear us and there is nothing we can do to change their minds. It’s just that old-fashioned racism in a new-fashioned shell. It’s funny how the sociologists keep on saying we’ve outgrown our old fears and hatreds. Thing is we always seem to add new ones to replace them. And I’m not as immune to that as I’d like to be.

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