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Rated: E · Short Story · War · #1692972
Deep in thought one can easily lose track of reality.
NATURAL RESOURCES

I lean over the table in the war room and find myself alone. Empty chairs stand askew, occupied by silent ghosts strangled in thought with me. Pawns scattered over the table and their position on the map are the center of my focus. These toy figures appear innocent, but they represent squads engaged in battle, locations of supplies, armored divisions and enemies.
  In here a piece moves an inch under the indifferent gaze of generals and ministers, but out there troops die horrible deaths. The Suits have no affinity with what’s going on here every single day. They don’t even blink when sending fifty decent men into certain death. As long as they kill fifty-one of the others in the process. The smoke of their cheap cigars still lingers in here. God it makes me sick. They might not care but I do.
  After eying each piece on the table and imagining the landscape from the lines on the map, I start over again. My mind races in circles, asks a million questions, lists weaknesses and strengths, considers possible moves. I must pick the table for every shred of information. All to figure out who is most likely to win this exhausting battle in the end. Us, or them. And each time round the answer remains unsatisfying: Too close to call...
  No-one seems to have an edge. No clear advantages. No obvious winning tactics. We have been deadlocked in this strenuous “equilibrium of the valleys” for months. This has become a matter of endurance rather than a proper fight, and the victor will be the side to stay out longest.
  The very moment I consider this, a glimmer of hope lives in me. One location is not marked on the map. I search my pockets for my lucky penny, find it, and place it on the spot where I know is a cluster of old reservoirs on our side of the battlefield.
  This battle of endurance will last as long as supplies reach the front. We can have water and fuel nearby, in those reservoirs, while the enemy will have to stretch its logistical lines further and further backwards, increasing strain and rendering them inefficient. It won’t be long before their men and machines will suffer from lack of water and fuel. It is the winning edge I’ve been searching for. This war will be won by ample natural resources and quick access to them. We have the upper hand...
  “Are you listening to me?”
  Suddenly the war room snaps out of existence and is replaced by a quiet restaurant. The figurines and pawns turn back into cutlery, glasses and salt and pepper shakers. The map is actually a white tablecloth. Across the table my girlfriend looks upset. “What did you say dear,” I ask her, slightly dazed.
  “Can I have a sip of your water? My glass is empty.”
  “Sure...” How long was I daydreaming? Seconds? Minutes?
  She takes my glass and drinks half of it. So much for my strategic resources. I stare out the window into the night and start wandering off again.
 


W. Sixte
http://www.monsieursixte.blogspot.com/

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