Rock, Paper, Scissors!

"Rock." Could it be? No, of course not; it'd be infeasible. They'd heard the anecdotes passed down generation by generation. But never had they pondered the situation, what it'd be like, or if they'd ever even be in this position. Their blood boils. What if the rumors were true? What if their life could be taken away? Like that. With little to no meaning or purpose, they could die without a trace.

"Paper." The realization kicks in. This is happening. Would they die? Would they survive? Does it even matter? What would happen to the other? With every second, the anxiety becomes greater. They either have a few minutes, or the rest of their life left. And what will determine that, will be luck.

"Scissors." It's almost time. Their fate will be determined. They can barely breathe, and with every breath, more nervous than the last, their fate draws closer. What will happen to their wife? Their kids? Will they live without a father? Will their wife remarry? Will they even care? Will they be content with how they've lived so far and the person they've become, if it all cuts off short? And what if it doesn't? Will they be able to come with the fact that they killed someone? Someone like them. Someone who could've lived an amazing life. An object, dead, like that, because they didn't have the upper hand when it came to luck. Only time will tell. They hold their breath.

"Shoot."

Those are the last words these creatures hear before going back to their lives in prosperity. Or, they might fall prey to death, having arms closed around them as they're murdered. Yet, the murderer is not to blame for their actions; they were forced against their will to perform this act. Often, they will face guilt as the PTSD of what they have done swallows them whole. Despite the situation being out of their control, they may never see things the same way. But why? Why must these creatures' lives boil down to a mere 50/50 chance? What's the point in living if everything can be taken away in the span of as little as ten seconds? Today, we will explore those questions. We will explore what happens when you play God. When you decide to risk a life. Simply for the sake of being first in line, or the last to have a bad experience, or even for fun.

We've all played the game. You pretend you haven't, but you know deep down that you're responsible for someone's death. We've all had enjoyment from murdering innocent people. You and a friend count down with common objects to a determining moment of who wins. For the sake of winning a dispute. But are you really winning? When playing this simple game, do you think about the collateral damage you're inflicting? Do you think about the lives you're taking from the innocent? No. No, you don't. Because you don't care. Because the bottom class doesn't matter to you. Because they're the bee flying around in your house you decide to kill with the swatter rather than letting out. Since there's no Vanessa asking you why its life matters any less than yours, it's okay, right? Everyone does it. It's only a bee.

But it doesn't. Your willful ignorance can't justify murder; "I didn't know it was illegal" won't hold up in court. But why does society turn a blind eye to this matter? Why does society continue to ignore the issue? It's because they're seen only as the slaves. The ones whose lives we play with, since they can't do anything to stop us. They're the butt of the joke; the ones forced to take the blow for our entertainment.

I hope that in reading this document, you will realize something; you are a murderer. You alone took hundreds of lives from the innocent. That, alone, is horrific, however in total, the number of premature deaths far outnumbers hundreds. Raise awareness. Stop toying with the lives of the innocent and stop playing this game.