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accident?” asked one of the kids.
    â€œThere are no accidents,” I responded quickly, and then moved on. “Rule number two: No killing anyone under the age of eighteen no matter what side they’re on. Until you turn eighteen you’re considered an innocent bystander. Therefore, the penalty for killing anyone who is under eighteen, including one of the enemy, is death. The corollary to this rule is that no one, on either side, can play a role in this War until they turn eighteen. So, Ryan”—I addressed him directly for a moment—“you wanted to know when you can get started. Well, you will get started the day you turn eighteen.” I paused for a second, debating whether or not to continue, whether or not to pile it on. I decided that I should, that they should hear it. So I added, “You’ll get started when you turn eighteen whether you want to or not. Until then, over the next two years, you will be trained. You will be readied for the transition. Your free pass is almost over.” Eighteen years wasn’t long enough. No amount of time would ever be long enough. The next two years will be hell for these kids. They will have to endure physical training and emotional training. They will be taught how to kill and how to defend themselves from being killed. They’ll see things they can’t even imagine, things they’ll wish they never saw. These kids weren’t ready for that yet, but it would come.
    â€œThose are the two key rules. Every other rule flows from those two. There is a third rule that is important for you guys to know.” The third rule. I never really thought too much about the third rule. I never really stopped to contemplate the cruel practicality of its punishment. My mistake. “The third rule is necessary because of how the first two rules impact the War. It’s really quite simple. You can’t have kids until you turn eighteen. Can anyone see why this rule might be necessary?” One of the girls raised her hand. I motioned for her to speak.
    â€œBecause if you can have kids before you turn eighteen, no one will ever win the War.”
    Perceptive. “Why’s that?” I asked.
    â€œWell, if you can’t kill someone until they turn eighteen, and they keep having children before they turn eighteen, how could you ever stop them? They could just keep growing.”
    â€œExactly. That’s why we need the third rule. So, if anyone on either side has a child before they turn eighteen, that child must be turned over to the other side.”
    â€œDo they kill them?” the perceptive girl asked.
    â€œNo, they don’t kill them. We don’t kill them. The other side simply adopts them. They raise them as one of their own. So, by violating this rule, instead of increasing the population of our side, you increase the population of theirs. Instead of making our side stronger, you make their side stronger. Eventually, that child will grow up. It will grow up and it will join this War and it will fight. It will grow up to fight its own parents, fight its brothers, fight its sisters.” I looked around the room at the shocked faces. It was clear that already they viewed this punishment as more cruel than death. I let it sink in before I went on. “So, those are the rules. That’s it. Three rules that you cannot ignore. Three rules that you cannot forget. Three rules that you must obey. Everything else that I tell you today is simply procedure. So, who here has guessed what it is I do for a living?”
    A few hands raised and I called on one of them at random. “You kill people.”
    â€œThat’s right,” I replied. “I’m a soldier.” A soldier. That’s what they called us. Me, Michael, Jared, we were soldiers. We were supposed to be proud of the title. I went on to explain to the kids the different roles they might one day grow up into. They didn’t have to follow