Peace Is A Disease (story by R.C. Peris)

War, like most human behaviors, is a habit. The Republics of Gracen and Molor had been fighting each other for five thousand years. War was the economy and the culture. All life, in each Republic, centered on war. Children played war games, spy games, and torture games. They learned of war in school. Even science became war. In a test tube in chemistry, children were taught that chemicals fought each other. In literature, only poems in praise of war were acceptable. As to the adults, nearly everyone worked for the Republic and did jobs that supported the war. Huge prisons were built to house POWs and those few brave souls who protested the war. The Republic decided to make the prisons profit driven so the owners encourage more war and hired mercenaries to round up people to stuff in their prisons. Women were expected to birth ten children and when the child was born the parents conducted a ceremony where the child was verbally committed to fight in the war or expand the war economy.

Ella Willow, even as a child, saw the war, violence, and commitment to fighting as a disease. War was an unfortunate flowering of the culture over 5000 years ago and she wanted to snip the bud off to allow for a new growth. Ella did not believe the war was inevitable or natural. She had no evidence for this other than what she knew in her heart and what she knew was that there was very little that was natural to a human being. Humans were propped up by constructs.

Ella kept her thoughts to herself and ran for political office. After fifteen years, she ascended the highest position and became War Executive of the Republic of Gracen. Ella was untouchable unless there was a coup. She immediately began secret peace negotiations with the Republic of Molor. After a year, a peace accord was signed. Ella announced to the Republic that war was over. She smiled broadly and was pleased with herself.

The Republic of Gracen became mad. There was looting, murder, riots and the economy fell into shambles setting off famine. Ella was eventually rounded up by a mob and strung up to be attacked unto death.

“You don’t have to fight,” Ella whispered through bloody lips. “You have a disease. Being human does not mean war.” She said no more as a knife was stuck in her throat.

Gracen and Molor went to war again and everything settled. The economy improved and famine ended.

Ella is buried in a grave with a plaque that states, “Peace is a disease. We killed the disease.”

Human habits are, indeed, hard to change.

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