Many predict that by the year 3000, the US military will primarily fight its wars in cyberspace. 

“What the fuck is this?” says Sergeant Holmes, my half-cyborg super soldier boss, holding up the contraband picture of my girlfriend (gay people are banned again). I was in big trouble. 

As punishment, I get put on the front lines for the next battle. I slide my VR headset over my eyes, switching the tab from porn to war, and load my Havana syndrome pulse rifle. Fuck. I realize I forgot to put on my nuclear bomb-proof vest. My skin is burning off in cyberspace, but VR has gotten so realistic that I actually start growing cancers on my neck. Yeah, sometimes I wish they hadn’t programmed such real, excruciating pain into the metaverse, but I do get to waterboard my friends in Super Smash Bros, so it is kind of worth it. 

I shoot some more androids with my pulse rifle, but the army is stronger than ever. They’re closing in fast. I switch the tab back to xvideos but I forget that I was watching robot torture porn and get really scared for a second.

Sergeant Holmes notices my panic and shoots my leg in real life to get my attention.  He says gravely, “The androids are closing in. You must complete your mission.”

The oncoming army of communist robots march toward us in lockstep. But, I know exactly what to do. I press my belly button, detonating the 37 trillion intracellular explosives I was CRISPR-edited to contain, and watch in awe as my eighteen years on this planet culminate in this spectacular moment. Death, the annihilation of the self, but, with it, the extinction of the enemy. I think I could’ve also just waited for it to rain, too. That also would’ve killed them.