Tower and Town, November 2016

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Robots

My grandfather loved to tell stories. He would sit there, next to me, on my old creaky bed, telling me stories of bravery, stories of tragedy. And stories of war.

My dear granddad. Oh how he would go on, deep into the night, as if unaware of my presence, engrossed in his vivid memories. Yet what I did not realise at that time – being only a child - was that these stories possessing him were not stories at all. They were not made up; they were not fiction. They were true. True down to the tiniest detail, and I now know this because no one, not even someone with the wildest of imaginations, could have even merely hoped to produce such stories of horror, pain and cruelty.

Some tales stood out among the rest to me as a young girl, but one in particular will never leave my mind. It went like this:

I was not born a killer. Instead it was forced upon me with such brutal strength that I had no choice but to obey. Going against all my moral beliefs I stepped out onto the battlefield with only one thought in my head - if I was going to die, it would be for good reason.

“Obsessed by this thought that had been hammered so violently into me, I walked in a trance through the ever thinning mist. I was a robot controlled by my country, a killing machine that was programmed to self-destruct. I knew when the shield of mist cleared I would be in firing line of our ever watching enemies. But I did not fear them. I simply knew they, just like me, had no choice.

“The silhouette of a figure appeared on the horizon; readying my gun, I knew it was time. Just as I was about to step out I heard a shout: “NO!” A familiar man’s voice echoed across the battlefield, I immediately knew who it was. Panic struck through my body like lightning, shaking me from my trance. The sound of gun fire rang in my ears and before I knew it, bullets were shooting past my head. The next series of events all happened much too fast; someone called my name, and then I was pulled by the back of my uniform…and then it happened. There was a bang, and the man who was pushing me away flung himself in front of me, shielding me, before collapsing and falling to the ground…

We don’t all have to be robots.

Lily Jackson