The Decider

We are killing at a distance now. It is a most clean and efficient form of homicide. The Decider decides, not the guy in the drone control, not the millinery brass - no, every hand is washed, all the way up the up-chain and that chain leads not to any person, for the Decider is hidden. Death is sent with surgical precision. Missile to target, mission after mission. Death now resides in a small remote computer, that hums away happily night and day. It never stops deciding, controlling who lives or dies. It has a program, one it programmed for itself. It has an endless list, and everyone is on it. It decides who needs death now or later. Where to diagnostically strike, where to smartly eliminate without the messy, close-up hate. The busy desk-top automata drones on and on, and the death-count ticks on and on. The good and the bad are named and only after the murder are they blamed. It is a pin-point killer, it is tidy for every hand is clean, while any hint of distant blood is aseptically, and most compassionately washed away