Machine Learning (Captain Allen and DPD SWAT POV)

Dogs of War

"In man-machine symbiosis, it is man who must adjust: The machines can't."
- Alan Perlis

...

When a soldier loses everything, they turn feral. They become hungry for a purpose, ready to rip through anyone and anything just so they can tear a sliver of meaningful existence off the carcass.

That's why they reenlist. And I can't blame them.

Out of the 44 years that I've been alive on this war-torn planet, I've had a gun in my hand for 26 of them. More than half of the breaths I've taken were so someone else wouldn't have the chance.

Most of us had something to rationalize it, in some aspect. More of us just weren't meant to be put back in society. We weren't like the military canines that could just be euthanized if they were too aggressive, too damaged, to be embedded within civilian life.

We got hooked on that sense of purpose. Got the shakes when we ran out. Went through withdraw.

I got my fix, being a part of SWAT.

When I first started, I found it tame compared to what I was used to. Now, it's just enough of a hit of purpose to keep me straight.

Connor needed some purpose, some of that drug.

It might not have been my place, interjecting when Hank was screaming at him for not saying a word. For getting lost in that timeless void where memories of past failures looped around until you could pinpoint that one mistake that led to the death of someone you love.

"Shut the fuck up, Allen. This ain't one of your Vietnam soldiers or what the fuck ever."

He'd gotten in my face, closer than I would've let anyone else, but this instance called for patience.

"And you-" He'd turned back to Connor, "If you think this doesn't suck for everyone, you're wrong."

That had been the second time I'd seen him choke up. The first was when Cole passed.

As a father, the pain of losing a child would be unbearable. I'd stepped into a shadow of what that must feel like, back in Africa. Here, in Detroit...it felt like I was under that shade once again. Like the sun was being blocked by clouds, keeping all the light and warmth with it.

That cop – the one that I'd grown to accept as a member of the DPD's family, the one that I'd challenged to put her life on the line to avenge fallen members of my different family, the one that'd been packaged and shipped to Camp Leatherhead...

Felt a lot like losing one of them, all over again.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud of her, though. Just wish she was around for me to tell her that to her face.

"Let me talk to him, Anderson."

Hank's shoulders had risen and fallen, giving rhythm to the despair that I'm sure he didn't want to revisit, just as much as I didn't.

"Fine. Whatever."

He'd swiped at his nose, pushing past me just to turn on his heel, jabbing a finger at Connor, "Don't fucking do anything stupid. I don't need to lose anyone else tonight. You hear me?"

"I..."

Connor blinked, the red circle on his head spinning in a different kind of unbreakable loop.

"I hear you."

...

"Captain?"