Strawberry Vapor

“It’s just noise.”

These were the words Lt. Duncan Graham thought to himself as the three execution cannons before him began their startup sequence with a telltale mechanical humming sound. Three execution cannons which were, incidentally, currently aimed directly at him. He couldn’t see them, of course, as he was wearing the blindfold with a built in heads up display; the customary accessory for all condemned enemies of the state. Through the enveloping darkness created by the blindfold, text in silver lettering began filling the void, accompanied by a monotone male computer-generated voice.

The text read, “Duncan Graham: For your crime of dereliction of duty in the face of the enemy, you have been sentenced to death by firing squad. Have you any last words?”

Duncan sincerely wished he could come up with something profound to say in an attempt to justify his actions, but nothing came to him through the fog of shock currently gripping his mind. He had known for several days that his actions merited a death sentence, but now that the moment was nearly here, a primal fear was preventing anything even resembling rational thought. He had been so sure in his mind that he had taken the just course of action, but the notion of actually having to sacrifice what remained of his seemingly far too short twenty-three years of life was weighing upon his chest, making it difficult to draw what would be his final breaths.

After a moment with no response from the condemned, the computer continued along its automated execution protocol processes, stating, “Final words recorded.”

“Wait, I haven’t…” Duncan began to protest, but the computer didn’t seem to care, and why would it?

New text began appearing on the screen as the monotone computer went on, “The condemned is entitled to a final intake of flavored nicotine vapor before sentence is carried out. Here is a list of your flavor choices.”

As the list of flavors appeared before his eyes, Duncan found that the thing that horrified him the most about this interaction was the cold calculation of it all. There was to be no last minute question of conscience to save him from his fate. There was no member of the automated firing line whose chamber was devoid of ammunition, thereby allowing a thread of doubt as to who had actually killed him. No, there was a computer, and there was the condemned, and that was all.

Perhaps if his commanding officer had sent a bot in his place, Duncan’s own question of conscience would not have landed him here in the first place. He had been a sniper in the Planetary Army of the State, and a damned good one at that. He had been ordered to eliminate the offspring of the enemy supreme commander, in an attempt to destroy the serpentine leader’s will to continue the fight. Duncan had been tasked with potentially ending the war in victory, and all it would have cost were the lives of a few children.

“Choose a flavor,” the computer said.

After quickly scanning the options once more, Duncan replied, his voice quivering as he did so, “Strawberry. I choose strawberry.”

“Selection acknowledged,” the computer responded.

Duncan had selected strawberry because it was the favorite lip gloss flavor of his fiancée back home on Verdana. She was, unbeknownst to her, also part of what had landed him in his current predicament. You see, just before he had departed to carry out his assignment, he had received a long-range vid from her. In it, she had told him the wonderful news that she had become pregnant after their time together during his last leave. He was going to be a father. The emotions within him had been understandably mixed, but on the whole he was elated by the idea.

However, the news had also been the source of the moral conflict within him. There he had been on that foreign moon, the red rain falling across the dull violet sunset behind him. In the holographic sights of his SJC-111 high-powered stealth laser rifle, were the children of the enemy commander. The objective of his entire mission had been less than three hundred yards before him, child’s play if you’ll forgive the term. The flesh of his index finger had rested lightly upon the bioplastic trigger. And all he had been able to see was the face of his beloved fiancée, and that of their unborn child. He’d silently withdrawn, failing to complete the mission, and condemned himself to his fate.

Duncan felt the plastic tip of the vapor dispenser pressing itself against his lips, and he proceeded to wrap them around it. Inhaling deeply, he drew the nicotine sting into his shaking lungs. The flavor of his fiancée’s lips lingered upon his own as he exhaled the strawberry vapor, and in his mind he travelled back in time. To when they’d shared their first kiss as teenagers. It was on a small wooden dock overlooking a slowly flowing river, which wound its way through the forest on the edge of the starbase where each of their fathers were stationed at the time.

Now though, that memory seemed so far away, as was his beloved. A tear travelled down the left side of Duncan’s face, the salt taste mixing in with the lingering strawberry as it reached his lips. There was so much he was going to miss. After everything he and his would be wife had shared, she was going to have to raise their child without him. The thought would have caused him to crumple pathetically into a fetal position, if not for the restraints currently holding him upright.

Duncan then heard the sound of the cannons as they started up their firing sequence, meaning the killing blasts were seconds away. The cannons would vaporize him, and all that remained would intermingle with the lingering strawberry haze. His mind attempted to comfort him in his final moment.

“It’s just noise,” it said.