EROS: The Light Project

FILE 310 - Steven Fireclose

 September 18, 10 days before Departure

My heavy boots echo in the wide warehouse. I hold my rifle tightly in my hands, as if ready to attack.

But it's no use making sure you're alive when you're surrounded by the dead.

That's how it is: long, long rows of cribs similar to those in a hospital. Or a morgue.

-Remind me of our task,‖ I ask my comrade.

-Surveillance, Corporal Fireclose- he replies.

-And what are we to guard?

-The dead, Corporal. Order of the Crown-.

The King of England himself would have imposed such an order. The reason is completely unknown to me.

A tremendous stench spreads through the warehouse. Sunlight passes through tiny windows at the edge of the ceiling, while what lies below is covered in darkness.

I rot slowly, and inspect each crib. I see bodies of men and women covered only to the chest by white sheets.

Some appear to be sleeping, others are torn apart like freshly slaughtered pigs.

It looks like the field of a battle just concluded, yet well organized.

A chaotic picture.

An elegant nightmare.

Next to each body, a small computer is turned on.

I pause in front of a bed: it seems to house a young boy.

I approach slowly: he has soft, curly hair and gently closed eyes.

Recently dead, a week or two at most.

I have seen boys like him fall before my eyes serving the Crown.

He, however, does not look like a soldier; instead, he looks like a simple young man, carefree and devoid of violence.

I see the small screen beside his bed: many words appear on it in a continuous stream.

The boy speaks in the first person, telling his story in the past tense.

He writes that he was afraid. A lot of fear.

I notice a small document beside his bed:

LEONARDO GIGLIO

Age: 19 years old

Biological status: deceased

Brain state: after zone

Location: Hell

Location...Hell. All this seems absurd to me.

Yet I do not care to ask myself questions: my job is to carry out orders, and that is what I will do. As strange as all this may sound, I cannot say that I have not seen worse....

I have had to perform terrible deeds. I have had to kill enemies.

I have learned not to be melted by the doubt of what might have happened to my enemies; they simply died.

They don't end up anywhere, the dead.

So what does that "Location: Hell" mean?

How do they know where that boy is?

He is in Hell.

But he is just a boy....

September 19, 9 days before the Departure

People have prejudices about soldiers: they say we are ruthless, inhuman war machines. You will actually be interested to know that the heart beating in our chests can also quicken because of feelings. As absurd as it may sound, a human being who kills is made in the same way as a pacifist: there may be hormonal differences, psychological peculiarities or brain damage, but nothing that can separate a killer from his condition as a human being.