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The battlefield had become silent. As of last night, the cacophony of wartime was somehow halted for a time. The 88 years war was something both sides had grown accustomed to, like taxes. In many ways, the silence had scared many of the citizens out of their sleep that morning. People opened their blast shutters slowly, and crept secretly out of their doorways into the street, and stared at the sky. Some actually heard the wind blowing, and a few claimed they heard bird songs once again. This was all hearsay of course, and there were citizens who wrote it off as fanciful propaganda at best. The thought of a bird singing was beyond comprehension, then again, no explosions off in the distance was also quite peculiar.

An initial survey of the situation would have one believe that the war was over, except that on the news, politicians from both sides continued to vociferously lambaste each other, calling for the end of the other’s way of life. Yet, on the battlefield, the soldiers ran from their trenches towards each other and as soon as they got within arm’s reach slowed down and just stared. The soldiers stood there for a time, staring at the colors of their uniform, the badges emblazoned with their country’s colors, the camouflage patterns seemed to mimic the bleakness of the field around them. Somehow, they just lost the urge to fight.

Was it diplomacy in action? There were no speeches, no raucous rallies, no white flags being raised. No treaties had been signed. No spoils divvied up amongst the power that be. Everyone just suddenly lost the urge. For the common man and woman engaged in everyday hate and warfare, it was indeed the end of the world. What was left after one had no Other to distinguish themselves from? The stinging memory of the injustices did not disappear, that was for sure, nor was the history of torment and anguish that each side had wrought upon the Other. So what could one do to pick up the pieces? Start over?

As with all sweeping change, the catalysts are rarely the masses that toil and spoil their lives in the mouse wheel, but rather the wielders of power whose actions somehow irrevocably alter the course of human history. Unbeknownst to the great populace, a great discovery had been made. A group of scientists had discovered a drug that disrupted an enemy’s motivation to fight. It had come in year 87 of the 88 year war, and it was going to be used on the enemy only, so that in one fell sweep, the do-gooders could reap the harvest of victory without resistance. When the suggestion of aerosol dispersion came up, no one questioned its effectiveness. But of course, the scientists proclaimed, this would have the most widespread effect. The miscalculation of course, was the day of dispersion. A hot and humid day, the air was rife with moisture, most of which would get absorbed by clouds overhead, and traverse the hemisphere spraying calming non-violent precipitation over much of the land.

With the urge to fight now gone, most people lost their purpose. There was a rash of suicides that befell many countrymen. Men and women began fornicating freely in the streets with former enemies, no longer revolted by the hate that welled so deep within them for years. Frankly, many people went totally mad as their identities began to slip from their grasp.

Some say that we are what we hate, but what happens when what we hate is gone?

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