Roy Scranton - War Porn

“Sure,” Aaron said. “No problem.”

“Was it dangerous?” Matt asked.

“Matt, please,” said Dahlia.

“What? He doesn’t have to answer.”

Aaron lit a new cigarette from the butt of his old one. “You mean besides people shooting at me and shit exploding all the time?”

“I just, you know, I mean, all we know is what they show us on TV, right? I mean, we don’t even know. I can’t even imagine. We’re totally ignorant of this situation, and I’m just wondering, is it really like how they say? Is it bad? Is it getting worse? Is it getting better?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, chief. It’s bad enough.”

“But they can vote, right? They have democracy. That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Better than what?”

“I don’t know. Better than Saddam? It just seems like such a waste if nothing good comes out of it.”

“I don’t know, man,” Aaron said. “I was just a dumb grunt, you know. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“But, I mean, it’s such a huge question now with the election and America’s role in the world post-9/11, and we have this obligation, right, to try to make things better, but maybe it’s really all about oil and… I mean, I don’t even know what to think. Should we stay? Should we pull out? They say if we pull out, Iraq collapses into civil war. But it seems like that’s happening anyway. What do we do?”

“Listen, uh, Matt? Matt, right? That’s your name? Well, Matt, it doesn’t really fucking matter what we do.”

“But what about…”

“Things matter,” Rachel said. “There are serious problems in the world, but people do things to make change happen. We can hold governments accountable. Voices matter. The election matters.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Matt said. “Exactly. Should we stay? Do we have a moral imperative to clean up our mess, bring democracy to the Middle East, or what? I mean, we can’t just leave, can we?”

Dahlia looked at Matt, her lips compressed. How many beers had he had?

“Look,” Aaron said, “Matt, Rachel, you seem like nice people and this is a great barbecue. I’m gonna say this one thing, then… Maybe let’s talk about something else, okay? Because Iraq’s a fucking disaster. The whole thing. Staying’s a disaster. Leaving’s a disaster. It’s a fucking shithole. And it doesn’t matter what the fuck we think about it, because the guys who run shit don’t give a rat’s ass what people like you and me think. Or do. Or say. Unless we’re blowing shit up or donating money, they could give a flying fuck. So I don’t know what to tell you.”

“That’s a pretty negative world view,” Rachel said.

“Yeah, well, I’m all traumatized and shit. You know what it’s like. You saw the movie.”

“So why’d you go, then, man,” Mel asked, “if none of it matters?”

“Because they told me to.”

“But why’d you join the Army?”

“National Guard. I was National Guard.”

“Okay, man. Why’d you join the National Guard?”

“College money, patriotism. Service, challenge, honor. Nine-eleven. Same things as anybody else.”

“But now you think it’s all bullshit,” Mel said.

“I think we all gotta make hard choices,” he said, “and how you feel about shit doesn’t really matter. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“And all you had to do was kill people.”

Aaron laughed. “What?”

Rachel put her hand on Mel’s thigh and squeezed. Mel brushed it off. “No, he made a choice. He wasn’t drafted. All he had to do was kill people.”

“Yeah, sure,” Aaron said. “Not a bad deal, either. Easier than working for it.”

“I just don’t understand how you could do that, man.”

“Mel,” Rachel said. “Hey.”

“You don’t understand how I could do what?” Aaron asked.

“How you could kill people for money.”

“Okay, you got me. I joined the Army so I could fucking kill people. Big secret: It’s a blast.”

“But doesn’t it bother you at all?” Mel asked. “Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Ashamed of what?”

“I mean, you know the war’s fucking bullshit, but you go do it anyway. You know it’s illegal, but you do it anyway. People die and you don’t even fucking care. You could’ve not gone. You could’ve been a conscientious objector. You could’ve gone to Canada.”

“I signed a contract. We had a job to do.”

“That’s all you got? You had a contract? A job to do?”

“This is real nice, Wendy,” Aaron said. “I’m glad I came.”

“Man,” Mel said, “I just can’t understand how you can take part in an illegal war that kills thousands of innocent people—for college money—and then act like it doesn’t matter. Like you didn’t choose. That’s what seems completely fucked to me.”

“Mel, honey,” Rachel said. “Lay off.”

“Yeah, Mel,” said Dahlia, “let it go.”

“Hey,” Wendy shouted, “anyone else here see that movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? With that actor, whats-his-name, Ace Ventura? I watched it on DVD the other night and it was so good.”

“Fuck that,” Mel said. “This shit’s fucked up. This shit’s real. Don’t you see that? Killing people for money? And then you wear that fucking t-shirt like it’s all a joke. That’s just wrong. I mean, if that’s not evil, I don’t what is.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“It’s like the Nazis,” Mel said. “Like some people do it just because other people tell them to.”

“Mel, that’s not fair,” said Dahlia.

“No, really, man,” Mel said. “Think about it. Loads of German soldiers were just doing their jobs. Loads of German people were just doing what they were told. They all thought it made sense, they all thought what they did was fucking justified, but it wasn’t. They don’t get to say it’s okay. It’s like that Eichmann book, man. Evil is evil.”

“Call me a Nazi one more time,” Aaron said.

Matt put his hands out: “Whoa, now—let’s all chill out a little bit.”

Mel stared hard at Aaron: “Did you kill anybody?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Well did you?”

His eyes closed slow, then he smiled and opened them. “No. I didn’t. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but no, I didn’t kill anybody. It wasn’t my job.”

“But it was someone’s,” Mel said.

“I just held the camera.”

“Hey, y’all,” Dahlia said, getting up, “how ’bout some dessert? Mel, Rachel, you wanna help me with the pie?”

“Bullshit,” Mel said. “I can’t fucking believe I’m fucking sitting here with a fucking American Nazi I don’t know what, and everybody’s like, ‘Play nice, Mel. Lay off, Mel.’ Like it doesn’t fucking matter. Fucking sheeple. This is why. This is why.”

Aaron stood up. “I’m done here. Let’s go, Wendy.”

Mel stood to face him. “I know you. I know what you are. I can see it.”

Aaron’s voice went cold. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Admit what you did was evil.”

“It’s called reality. You need to grow the fuck up, bitch.”

“Bitch? You fucking Nazi asshole!” she screamed, jabbing her finger in his chest.

“Listen up,” he shouted, grabbing her wrist, “this shit”—then Xena—Mel yanking her hand away and whacking Aaron’s arm, Aaron shouting in Mel’s face and Matt leaning up going whoa and Xena—Xena barked, leaping snapping at Aaron who turned smooth and kicked the dog hard in the side, sending the animal rolling yelping and Mel surged, hitting Aaron in the neck and he caught her forearms in his fists and she kicked but then Dahlia was between them and Wendy and Rachel too, pulling Mel back, Aaron walking off cold, Mel held by Rachel, still raging, still flailing.