Never underestimate Technology
Ooh! Here’s a good idea:
In the future, young men will be given the freedom to run after lovely young (and oh, so willing) ladies. In this wonderful game of tag, the girl (or boy, if appropriate) immediately falls down onto the mossy hillside when caught, ecstatically spreading her legs for the joyful thrust of penetration.
Except that penetration just happens to be a bayonet through the heart of an enemy-that being whomever the programmers back home have defined the enemy to be. Your own mother, perhaps?
Eek. Talk about rose colored glasses. Paging Dr. Freud. And for crying out loud DON’T TAKE OFF THE HELMUT or forget to drink your “milk.” Heh. Love that Mr. Burgess.
This idea was inspired by the opening three minutes of Freejack, so blame Mick Jagger, not me.
Ah, but there could be some juicy character arcs. Somebody figures out that he’s a soldier, not a lover and decides to tell the others. Most are horrified to learn that their joyous, philosophy-sponsored sex romps are actually battle maneuvers of the bloodiest kind.
Children of the loveliest of liberal dreams, some lose their minds with remorse but only two find suicide or institution.
Several try to escape but are killed in a variety of gorgeously gory ways. Computer-patrolled fences, booby-traps, treachery, betrayal.
One succeeds in escaping, falls in love for real, balks at it’s complexity, kills his lover in desperation for a fix and then tries to find his way back to “the real deal.” He is killed for deserting in the first place, of course-or so we think.
One knew all along. His name is “captain.”
Nah, that’s cheesy. The real captain is the guy who “figured out what’s really going on” and told the rest-the supposed everyman. In reality, he was searching out new members for his elite squadron and was willing to “dismiss” the majority of the platoon to find them. . .
Problems:
How do you trick a man’s body that stabbing someone with a bayonet or shooting them is somehow physically (or subconsciously or hallucinatorially--is that a word?--) equivalent to inserting your cock into a willing vagina (or ass)?
Oh, wait. Never underestimate the combined power of drugs, technology, and military training.
How is it effected?:
One of our main characters imagines himself draped in toga, lounging about discussing philosophy amidst the columns with Socrates himself. It's happening right now but he believes this is a memory, as do the rest of the men in the platoon, despite the fact that there are high definition TVs with high-tech Tom-Clany-esque battle plans playing across their screesn. Just to keep it interesting (to me, at this point), the tawdry, juicy Jaqueline Suzanne shocker of a moment comes when he’s selected by Socrates himself for a little one-on-one philosophizing. . . heh. Gotta shock and thrill.
Potential side effect: Another character envisions himself on the beach. Socrates has the same face, but he wears surfer trunks. Yet another finds himself in crotchless leather, smacked on his naked ass every third word that Socrates speaks. OK OK OK . So yet another sorry personality-free character who WILL INDEED SURVIVE EVERY TRIAL imagines himself in a titty bar, sipping sodas and listening to great wisdom expounded from a pair of double DD titties that hang from a girl with a six inch waist.
Main points:
Sex and violence are difficult to distinguish at times, but remain completely separate concepts.
Man will remain man, with a sense of right and wrong, justice and tyranny, regardless of whatever bizarre circumstance he may find himself in.
We can learn to make hate love and love hate. Isn’t that the point of boot camp? (Good God, bring it on.)
In the future, young men will be given the freedom to run after lovely young (and oh, so willing) ladies. In this wonderful game of tag, the girl (or boy, if appropriate) immediately falls down onto the mossy hillside when caught, ecstatically spreading her legs for the joyful thrust of penetration.
Except that penetration just happens to be a bayonet through the heart of an enemy-that being whomever the programmers back home have defined the enemy to be. Your own mother, perhaps?
Eek. Talk about rose colored glasses. Paging Dr. Freud. And for crying out loud DON’T TAKE OFF THE HELMUT or forget to drink your “milk.” Heh. Love that Mr. Burgess.
This idea was inspired by the opening three minutes of Freejack, so blame Mick Jagger, not me.
Ah, but there could be some juicy character arcs. Somebody figures out that he’s a soldier, not a lover and decides to tell the others. Most are horrified to learn that their joyous, philosophy-sponsored sex romps are actually battle maneuvers of the bloodiest kind.
Children of the loveliest of liberal dreams, some lose their minds with remorse but only two find suicide or institution.
Several try to escape but are killed in a variety of gorgeously gory ways. Computer-patrolled fences, booby-traps, treachery, betrayal.
One succeeds in escaping, falls in love for real, balks at it’s complexity, kills his lover in desperation for a fix and then tries to find his way back to “the real deal.” He is killed for deserting in the first place, of course-or so we think.
One knew all along. His name is “captain.”
Nah, that’s cheesy. The real captain is the guy who “figured out what’s really going on” and told the rest-the supposed everyman. In reality, he was searching out new members for his elite squadron and was willing to “dismiss” the majority of the platoon to find them. . .
Problems:
How do you trick a man’s body that stabbing someone with a bayonet or shooting them is somehow physically (or subconsciously or hallucinatorially--is that a word?--) equivalent to inserting your cock into a willing vagina (or ass)?
Oh, wait. Never underestimate the combined power of drugs, technology, and military training.
How is it effected?:
One of our main characters imagines himself draped in toga, lounging about discussing philosophy amidst the columns with Socrates himself. It's happening right now but he believes this is a memory, as do the rest of the men in the platoon, despite the fact that there are high definition TVs with high-tech Tom-Clany-esque battle plans playing across their screesn. Just to keep it interesting (to me, at this point), the tawdry, juicy Jaqueline Suzanne shocker of a moment comes when he’s selected by Socrates himself for a little one-on-one philosophizing. . . heh. Gotta shock and thrill.
Potential side effect: Another character envisions himself on the beach. Socrates has the same face, but he wears surfer trunks. Yet another finds himself in crotchless leather, smacked on his naked ass every third word that Socrates speaks. OK OK OK . So yet another sorry personality-free character who WILL INDEED SURVIVE EVERY TRIAL imagines himself in a titty bar, sipping sodas and listening to great wisdom expounded from a pair of double DD titties that hang from a girl with a six inch waist.
Main points:
Sex and violence are difficult to distinguish at times, but remain completely separate concepts.
Man will remain man, with a sense of right and wrong, justice and tyranny, regardless of whatever bizarre circumstance he may find himself in.
We can learn to make hate love and love hate. Isn’t that the point of boot camp? (Good God, bring it on.)