“Hey Dad, check out all of these first person shooter games I bought at the store. I love these games so much; I can out shoot all the other players and dominate the map. I can hear them plotting against me through my headphones, but they always fail. I always win!”
“Uh huh. I see, son. I noticed you’ve got a bunch of video games set during historical wars.”
“Yeah, I’ll be knee-deep in the trenches, dodging shells, evading rats and saving the world with the good guys .”
His father let loose a billow of smoke from his pipe and stopped rocking his chair. He furrowed his brow and said, “Are you sure there are ‘good guys’ in war? Who or what are the ‘good guys’ And why should we go to war?”
The adolescent scratched his full head of hair. It was a contrast to the wispy, grey tangle on top of his father’s head.
“Huh? I guess you’ve left me something to think about, Dad. But, anyway, I’m going to play these games until my eyes are sore, and I can’t take anymore.”
The the clock seemed to spin in fast forward mode. The hands of time moved so fast that one could swear sparks were flying in the air. Then the adolescent emerged from his room once more. He appeared as pale and cold as a cup of cream straight from the fridge.
“How did the games go? Did you learn anything?”, asked Dad.
The adolescent was shaking but managed to gibber:
“I – I’ve seen some stuff, man. I went through WWI, WWII and Vietnam in ten hours. I want nothing to do with war — ever!”