Sunday, June 1, 2014

Watcher on the Wall

It was my duty, it was my oath. I kept watch every night for those who would cross illegally. For those who thought they were better than the law.

Some people mistake the wall for being a solid object, an end to one civilization and a start of another. Nothing could be further from the truth - a wall is a porous thing, a way to keep out those you wish to reject and accept those who you feel are worthy. Or more accurately, those who will pay you tax.

A wall is a tax. It is a way to regulate commerce. It is only very rarely that it is a military defense - but yet that's what most folks think it is. We check travelers, we check merchants, we check immigrants. Those who can pay can come through; those who can't stay outside. It's the State's attempt to regulate markets. The wall is nothing new.

This night, however, was something outside of taxes. As I walked my patrol, I heard something from the path up ahead. I didn't think it was anything outside of a routine disturbance - just some immigrants trying to cross illegally or maybe a merchant trying to move some contraband. Boy was I wrong.

I called out the alarm and ran up to the disturbance. It was a small group of armed men, certainly up to no good. Lacking for common sense, and with years of confidence in scaring off rabble under my belt, I began berating the group of mischief makers without waiting for backup.

Bad choice.

One of them snuck up behind me and gave me a good belt in the head. My world slowly went black as I fell the five yards to the ground.

My last memories were that of being surrounded by comrades trying to stabilize me. I think they would have done a good job too, if only they hadn't included all those fucking horses. They never could put me back together, and so, dear reader, I met my end.

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