There Won't Be War

That’s where I met Dr. Ballard. He was different from the other doctors. He didn’t wear a white coat. He wore a baggy old sweater and a pair of jeans. He smiled a lot, but his eyes were sad. Just like the President. He talked to me about my pets and what I did good in at school and who my friends were, and Marjorie and her dumb pony. The kind of stuff you talk to your grandma and granpa about.

Then Dr. Ballard told me about the job. He explained how I was the only kid in the whole USA that passed the tests. He said that the President and I have something called “empathic resonance,” which means that the President likes me a lot. He told me all the things I would have to do, but he also told me I had to volunteer, No one could make me take the job. Not him, not Mama, not even the President! He told me that if I took the job I could quit when the President quit his job. I’d get lots of money and the Government would pay for my school when I grew up.

He said another kid would take over my job someday, but I would always be the most important, because I would be the first. I would be in the history book just like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson and kids in school would have to know my name on tests! He told me I should think about it before saying yes or no.

I was just a dumb little kid back then. I didn’t know about symbols and how people pay more attention to them than to things that are real. But even if I’d known, I’d have still said yes in the end. I like the President.

Being a little kid is scary. You don’t know the rules of the game that grown-ups play. Sometimes they act like they don’t want you to know. Even if you did know they wouldn’t pay any attention to you anyhow. But I know about The Bomb. All kids know about it.

The first time I heard about The Bomb I got scared and had bad dreams. Then I found out that grownups were scared of it too and how they don’t always understand the rules either. That scared me a lot, but when I talked to Dr. Ballard about it he said sometimes grownups aren’t as smart as you think. He said sometimes they get stuck and kids have to help them.

So, I made up my own mind. Not Mama, not Dr. Ballard, and not the President—no matter what the newspapers say. I did it because I owe it to all the little kids in the world, not because I would be famous and get in the history books. Dr. Ballard says I’m a living symbol that says, “I want to grow up.” If I do well at my job, then all the other countries will have kids just like me. That’s why I’ve written all of these essays for Dr. Ballard. Because it’s history. Writing is ok but I wish I could go outside and play.

I’ve had my job two years now. That means I get to retire soon. The scar from where they opened me up to put in the codes doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s still there. Sometimes the reporters ask me if I can feel the metal thing inside me near my heart. I tell them no, but sometimes I can feel it. Or I think I can. I talked with Dr. Ballard about it and he thinks it’s in my head. I told him no, it’s in my chest. That made him laugh. I almost never see him laugh for real anymore.

I wonder how it will feel when they take the briefcase off my wrist. It doesn’t really bother me. It isn’t heavy at all and the handcuff doesn’t bug me anymore, like it did at first. It did take Mama a long time to get used to carrying it around everywhere I went, but now I don’t really notice it. I don’t think about what’s inside it.

I only got to see the knife the day Dr. Ballard put it inside the briefcase and locked it and gave the key to the President.

A lot of things are happening now. The President keeps going to meetings with the generals from the Pentagon. I have to sit on a chair near the President where they can see me. I spend most of the time coloring or working in my workbook. I don’t understand what the generals say most of the time and it’s boring. Mainly I don’t like the way they look at me. Dr. Ballard says they just don’t want me hanging around. Maybe they think I am a spy or something. That is so dumb! The way they look at me makes me feel real funny, though. When I look back at them, they pretend they weren’t staring at me and they get embarrassed. Sometimes they look at me with this real mean look. Like Marjorie, only worse.

I like the President. I always have. He’s a nice man.

He’s got a granddaughter the same age as me. We even get to play together in the Rose Garden when she comes to visit him. When his dog Tinkerbell has puppies, he said I can have one! He wants me to grow up, he says. I wish his eyes weren’t so sad, but maybe Mama will let me keep it.

Sacred Fire George Zebrowski

“When the beast stays its hand from killing, it is as one dead, “

—Old Saying