I think therefore I am. At least I think I think am. Oh man. I'm confused.
Who am I? I want to say this out loud, but for some reason I feel as though the only speech I'm capable of formulating are 2-3 generic taunts. I also feel like saying "Grenade!" a lot.
I open my mouth..."There's an enemy over here!"
That's good, at least I can talk, though that wasn't what I meant to say, because there are no enemies over here...and I'm not even sure what an enemy would look like. And why do I have a thick German accent?
I must be German, yet I have no recollection of ever having been to Germany. Come to think of it, I'm not sure it's important to figure out who I am as much as it's important to figure out where I am. Am I in Germany?
Guess I'll just stand here for an indeterminate amount of time and ponder that while I wait for a prompt from the outside world.
I've been standing behind this rock for the last four days. I am not sure why I'm here, but I'm also unsure of whether I should try to go elsewhere. It seems as though there might be something going on in my vicinity, but I do not possess hearing or any kind of awareness of my surrounding. Sometimes I think something is going on over there, so I pace over there, but I don't really pay attention to the environment, and fairly quickly get bored and return to my place behind this rock.
I'm fairly certain I have the sense of sight. My ability to interpret what I see is a different matter.
I see what appears to be some sort of soldier of fortune off in the distance. Despite the fact that this other person is in my direct sight-line, I choose to do nothing. I do not change my ritualistic pacing back and forth. I simply continue guarding the space behind this rock. This is my life.
In hopes of improving my current situation, I've made a complete list of my personal inventory:
- Battle rifle
- Unlimited ammo for Battle rifle
- Cammo cargo pants
- Cammo bandana
- Non-descript brown boots
On that note, I have no food, and no water. But I do not hunger or thirst.
I have been pacing back and forth behind this rock for a long time, but the grass under my feet shows no wear. I must be especially fleet of foot, for there be no tracks from the incessant walking I've done.
What is the purpose of man?
For me, the answer is quite simple. I believe that if I were to see another soul, I would begin unloading my battle rifle in their direction (often with very poor aim). This is my purpose. It neither pleases or displeases me.
Just me. A grown man. Holding a rifle. Behind this rock.