Le scribouilleur de sf

Le scribouilleur de sf

Viking Raider

Cette nouvelle demande peut être quelques explications... D'une part parce qu'elle est écrite en anglais, et parce qu'elle s’inscrit dans un contexte particulier. Il y a un peu plus d'un an, un joueur de "Civilization II", du nom de Lycerius, publie sur reddit la sauvegarde d'une partie qu'il joue depuis près de 10 ans! Dans cette partie, les civilisations Celtes, Viking et Américaines  se livre une guerre interminable depuis 1700 ans, et continuent de détruire leur environnement à coup de bombe nucléaire. ( Un monde merveilleux et optimiste, donc... )

L'histoire à eu pas mal de succès, et une partie de reddit à été consacré à la publication d'histoire sur cette guerre interminable et apocalyptique. J'ai voulu apporté ma contribution. Reddit étant un site anglais, j'ai dû écrire dans cette langue, avec l'espoir de faire illusion. Avec 6 upvotes, un commentaire élogieux et aucun downvote, je suis plutôt satisfait. Mais bref, Enjoy!




Day One:

I’ve been called to arms. It’s a great honor to fight, Also everybody gets called these days. I’m afraid. I know only one person who returned from war. An old lady, half-mad, lacking an eye and a leg. She would still be fighting if she could. She scares everybody in the neighbourhood. She says she’s found the meaning of life fighting the Celts, and she prays the ancient gods. It might be why she was reformed. She doesn’t talk about it much. She doesn’t talk much apart from insulting and menacing people anyway. The war has made her what she is. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to share her fate either. I pray god to return in one piece, physically and mentally. That’s also why I’m beginning this log : I hope it will protect my sanity. God help me, I’m fucking scared!


Day Two:

It was the worst day of my life. The good news is that it’s over. The not so good news is that there will be worse days, I guess. The new recruits, myself included, have been tested for literally everything you can test people for. The worst part was perhaps the mandatory sperm donation, in an old clinically clean room, in a small isolation box next to two others, for virtually no privacy. I don’t know what they were doing to women in the meantime. I didn’t ask. I’m sure some jerk did. That would explain some of the fights at lunch time. Anyway, I don’t know and I’ll try my best to keep it that way. Tomorrow begin the training. Physical activity until noon, then weapon handling, and finally close combat. At least I’ll be too busy to think about anything disturbing.


Day Three:

Must Sleep... So tired...


Day Ten:

I’ve been too tired to write anything in seven days. I didn’t have any energy left in me for anything else than what was required of me. My whole body is hurting from aches and bruises. I think they were doping us as well as testing us on the first day. It’s only been a week, and my muscles are stronger, my reflexes are quicker, and my stamina has improved as well. Thankfully I’m too tired right now to think too much about that. I’m just thankful I feel better than yesterday.


Day Twenty:

I no longer suffer from the training. Sure I’m worn out, but actually, I feel pretty great. It’s a good thing because tomorrow I’ll be affected to a regiment and sent to the front. It’s also pretty bad for my sleep, cause I can overthink things again. I’ll probably not rest much tonight. They’ve tried to prepare us for real fight during the training, but there were no death. I’m scared of death. I want to live, have a family and brag about how I’ve survived the war. I’m still praying god every night and every morning. I really hope the guy is a good listener. They say the enemy is atheist. When the choice comes, my faith should mean something. It has to!


Day Twenty One:

I’ve killed a man for the first time today. God help me, not a single one: several! I don’t really know how many. Three ? Four? Eleven? The numbers aren’t that important to me right now. It didn’t affect me on the battlefield, I was too busy not dying. It was strange, brutal, terrible and fascinating. The Celts were attacking the camp when my regiment arrived. We didn’t have time to do anything else than picking up a rifle, run for cover, and fight. There were tanks too. They were loud. Each times they fired, I felt the sound wave with my whole body. It was all so crazy! There were people dying all around, Celts and Vikings. And then, he was there: my first kill. That’s how we call them, when we kill them: kills. It’s so simple. They’re not people anymore, they’re just a unit of score. I didn’t know then though. He was running toward me, shooting with both his weapon and his mouth. Bullets were flying all over my head but strangely, I was perfectly calm. I adjusted my aim, pulled the trigger and then he was dead, a small red dot on his forehead. I didn’t watch him fall. Another Celt was in sight. The assault wasn’t very long. A few minutes at most. It took me some more to cool down. Then I threw up. It wasn’t pleasant, especially because my stomach was empty. The fear was only beginning to rise, and I even now as I’m writing this I’m still shaking from sheer terror. The priest told me it was okay to kill Celt, but it didn’t help. He told me god would keep a place for me at his right, and that didn’t help either. He told me that our fight was right, and I didn’t care. I pray god tonight for my live and for guidance, for I don’t know why confront death that way. Why am I here?


Day Thirty Four:

There was no battle since I’ve come here. Twelve days of routine. Routine is good. It keeps me from thinking. Calm is testing. I don’t wish for anything else than calm, but the fear of the calm ending is growing slowly. The routine helps somewhat. Some soldiers resort to superstition. Necklace with Thor’s hammer are sold. The priests disapprove, but they can’t stop it. Some soldiers resort to sex. The priests frown on it, but say nothing. Sex canalise the tensions, as long as it isn’t forced. Rapists are to be put to death rapidly. It isn’t difficult to find a willing partner anyway, so it hasn’t happened here yet. Myself, I have spent a lot of my free time with Nadia, from the tank regiment. It wasn’t love between us. It was something less and something more. And there was the sex. Good times! But her regiment moved today, so that time is over. I hope we will see us again we die. I’ve offered her a hammer of Thor before she leaved and she’s offered me one back. I thank god for the time with Nadia, but I don’t know if I should pray him for more calm or for the end of it. The priests told me not too wish for the battle, but to wish for the victory of the Vikings and the death of the Celts and the Americans. I think they aren’t sure themselves what to wish for.


Day Fifty Two:

At last, we move. It’s been nearly two month that Viking troops had been gathering at the Celt border. Two months waiting, doing nothing. Two months with the fear of death in a corner of my mind. Yesterday, a nuclear missile exploded on the other side of the border, hopefully killing every Celt Soldiers before us. I’m a little worried about the radiations, even though we have been told we didn’t risk anything, because of something they injected us on our first military day. So far, nobody gave sign of radiation poisoning. The land around us is devastated. It was already in pretty bad shape in our side of the border, but the nuclear weapon just created a terrible lunar landscape. We are contouring the center of the explosion to go take a city. I don’t remember the name and frankly I don’t care about geography. We’ll get to it tomorrow. I pray god not to be killed by our own Viking weapon. That would be a sucky way to die.


Day Fifty Two:

Do I really pray the god I think I pray? I’m not denying god, but maybe the priests don’t know him as much as they would think. I think they’re asking themselves the same questions. Their responses are more and more elusive. Our orders aren’t to take the city. Our orders are to raid the city, kill everyone, and destroy everything. Raping Celts, men or women, is explicitly encouraged. And I did all of that, oh yes! It was a crazy day, most of it is blurry. But I’ve killed, I’ve raided, I’ve destroyed, and yes, I’ve raped. A cute blondy. I killed her after that. It terrifies me. I didn’t want to think I had that in me. I don’t want to think I have it in me. I don’t think I can pray my god the same way after that. Either he isn’t the one I always thought, or nothing can redeem what I have done. The strange thing is, I don’t feel much remorse. Because today, I wasn’t afraid of death. Today, I was dealing death. And it felt better than the past last weeks. I did what I was supposed to do, and I did it well. I have been felicitated for it. Even by the priests. I came back to the camp with quite a loot too. I hope to be able to spend it on my future permission. I look forward to the future for the first time since weeks. I’ll continue to pray god, but which god, I’m not sure. I have become quite superstitious myself. Nadia’s hammer of Thor never leaves me now...


Day Fifty Three:

Another day, another raid. We don’t encounter any actual resistance and I can’t say I’m complaining. We did more horrible things to the Celts, and were praised for that. Because Celts aren’t people. They aren’t even animals; nobody would do such things to animals. They are some kinds of demons or something. Something you have to do mean things to, because that is why we were created by our god. I know now why so few return from the war: God will welcome you only if you die fighting demons. This is our purpose. Why else should we be, in this wasted world?


Day Sixty Two:

We will attack another city tomorrow. It won’t be as easy as last time. There are Celts soldiers here. And tanks... lots of them. I’m scared again. I don’t like being scared. I’m looking forward to the battle. I’m not scared when I fight. I feel great actually, killing evil Celtics spawns. Thinking about the raids, the slaughters help me. I’ll kill them, rape their women, kill them, and take whatever I want from them! Yeah, that’s right! Death will be by my side tomorrow! Fear will be theirs! And if all goes wrong, I’ll be welcomed at the table of Heroes to spend my loots in pleasure till the end of time!


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