By Francis Crot.
Nontraditional warrfighters wrap themselves in ethical, political and legal environment, reducing their visibility as strategic targets. The E-1 Mantis is supposed to be able to rapidly identify civilian and combatant, and even to split the latter category into the existential warrfighter, and the mere combatant embedded in a noncombatant substrate who reverts to civilian when sieved through the microstructures of standard issue gris-gris-faced death.
Hackney carries out a final successful test of the Mantis on November 26. The elements of the first regiment equipped with the technology, comprising the command-and-control unit and a reconaissance batallion, are put on combat duty with the Balmer Road missile division, equipped with SS-18 Satan and SS-19 Stiletto, on December 1. The field experience is mixed: “In protracted, ambiguous, complex and asymmetric shit, a Cartesian ID is useless. You just can’t equate disposition to military cognition with military status.” Chaoplexic market solutions.
Techlepathic H+ batallions tag by rote the Of Interest. Embeds monitor their dread. The synthesised data founts into sentinels, ribbons of smartdust move to and fro at their lips. They chase composited leads, firing camera grenados round corners. Matrioshka drills. Both Hackney and City forces are finding themselves increasingly unable to control the pace of their integration with Transcendant Security Actors. Batallions without the basics get wiped out. My Likes: not enough sleeping bags, freshly spray-painted stencils, femtotech dumbdust, more bubbles than bath, tapas, squishing bread, vegan pizza, rising bollards, the Ninth Doctor, crystals with diseases, dreams of sailor battles, beautiful missionaries, agues, pallors, fops, Tom Waits, the Walrus and the Carpenter, the Baader Meinhof gang, tulle, chiffon, black, Ananis Nin, the sky over thick jungle, Mexico, anything marked HIGH VOLTAGE, sounds down hotel corridors, Julius Caesar look-a-likes, pets who fight to the death, pin-ups in prison cells, dancing in sprinklers, gas masks, ringlets let down over necks in cloisters.
Dislikes: SS-18 Satans, SS-19 Stilettos. Every time Jabari pulls the trigger his weapon dialing a complex web of third party organisations. Now the permission is for a rubber round. Now for a lethal one. Lives are traded, optioned, unwound. The logic is irrefutable; total deaths reduced, growth augmented. Girls gone wired. Remote suboccipital nerve. DIY sensawunda. Redactive swarming. A great place where we can get hanged. Cohorts. Quisling. Sinister confidant. Junta. Tam inserted to retrieve apoptosis refuser. Nova matrioshka brain haemorrhage. Femtotech dumbdust, obv. Vanishing mediator. Gas mask. Benign LysoSENS “Slow Lindsay” bivoaucs mitochondria-manufacturing DNA inside his scores of saucer-sized nuclei.
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