He feelsennuidepressionadrift in his life. Purposeless, perhaps because—dig a well in the Sudan and thejanjaweed come in and shoot the people anyway—buy mosquito nets and the boys you save grow up to—rape women—set up cottage industries in Myanmar and the army—steals them and uses the women as slaves andBen is starting to be afraid that he is starting to share Chon’s opinion of the human speciesthat people are basicallyshit.

The boys quiet until Ben looks across the table at Chon, holds his thumb and index finger a millimeter apart, and says, “We’re that close to being gay.”They laugh for half an hour.Collective dicks

In his mind’s eye, though, he sees——Talibanmoving like scorpions across a similar landscape his own caravan blown to shit blood streaming from buddiesNow I’m one of themHe sights in again.No time forLack of PTSDHe only hopes thatGentle BenIncrease-the-Peace Benis one of them, too, now.Now, Ben.Find your inner Taliban.

I’m not—Lady MacbethLucrezia BorgiaCatherine the Great. I am—a woman doing what she has to do. I am—the woman you made me.Elena is at war.