[ WP ] You live in a world where every person is born only able to make a writing prompt of the same tired formula . You are the first person born capable of original thought .

The Battle of Iowa was just 6 weeks ago, but it feels more like 6 years ago, or 6 lifetimes. Back then I was merely Private William Crunch, drafted into battle out of desperation; a sign, for everyone who knew me that, despite the desperate propaganda, the United States ready to finally keel. 
 
 I was the loser, you see. The person for whom everything seemed to turn out weird, and I had been marked for state supervision since I was in pre-school. I had my own way to colour in the picture. Later, my own way to do long division. I was always behind the other kids, and could never seem to quite replicate the thinking of the teacher, always inserting my own thought, my own idea here and there, in little places. Clearly, there was no point sending someone like me to University. 
 
 I was fired from my first job at a fast food place when I punched in the customer's requests into the till in wrong order. No chance of a decent reference, I was on welfare from that point on. That was my life, until the war started. Then, as the front marched steadily towards me, I watched my old schoolfriends die. Even though they were brilliant people, capable of absorbing all of the time-honoured ideas of our society and implementing them perfectly, they did n't seem to be able to overcome the enemy. Every offensive produced disaster. And while the news and the television continously announced victory, it did n't escape our attention that each `` victory'' was further inland than the last - unmistakeably, the enemy was gaining and consolidating territory. 
 
 I still remember sweating in my trench, the heat baking me in my uniform. Death impending, a strange impulse came over me. The only way I can express it is as follows: if I were certain to die, I want to die being myself. 
 
 I knew it was wrong to do this. I knew that only disaster could result, and that in doing what I did, I was allying with the forces of evil. But then, death was certain anyway, for all of us. I must die doing something different. I must die honouring the impulses that had destroyed my life. I must die honouring the impulses that had truly made me Mr. William Crunch, whatever that meant. 
 
 As General Writingprompt entered my trench, I could n't believe my luck. It was well-known that he would visit the soldiers before battle, but what were the chances of him visiting me? They must have been thousands to one against. Reminding myself of the present moment, I salute and kept quiet. 
 
 `` Men! I trust you are all confident before the battle!'' the General barked. But he, too, seemed nervous in an indefinable way. `` We've beaten these bastards all over the country, and now it's time to beat them here, too!'' 
 
 It seemed like even he believed this - and the other soldiers, cheering, seemed to believe it too. 
 
 I could n't hold it any longer. Court martial or no, I had to speak. `` Sir, I have a suggestion, sir!'' 
 
 The assembled company fell deadly silent. 
 
 `` A suggestion?!'' screamed the General. Nothing could have been more inappropriate in the moments before battle. I had to think carefully about what I would say next. 
 
 `` I only mean to say how wonderful and praiseworthy our time-honoured tactics are, Sir. I mean, we run towards the enemy trench so well and so competently. I hope that we will continue to do that as we have always done, Sir.'' 
 
 The General seemed mollified. Perhaps, in his trepidation before battle, he was more willing to listen to outrageous ideas - even hopeless and evil ones such as mine. Encouraged, I continued: 
 
 ``... Even the enemy will be envious of our precision timing and the way that we always do the exact same thing in every battle, in perfect order - to the very second! They must be very jealous as they admit to themselves that they know exactly where we will be at any time, and that we will not stop marching towards them even as the machine gun bullets rip through our ranks...'' 
 
 A vague dawning of realization seemed to be casting itself over the face of General Writingprompts. It was as if he were trying to remember a name, one that was about to be summoned from memory, yet which seemed to strangely resist being called up to the tongue. 
 
 `` So,'' I gulped, `` they will be wonderfully impressed... with how... they KNOW exactly what they need to do at any time in order to win the battle... wo n't they?'' 
 
 Had I gone too far? The seconds that followed seemed to freeze and last forever. It felt like the eye of a storm. The moment was burst with the General's scream: vicious anger in his eyes, he ordered the surrounding soldiers to arrest me. In minutes I was in my cell, waiting out the battle. If we lost, I was to be executed by the enemy. If we won, I would surely be executed for treason. 
 
 I waited what felt like 24 hours - and I can confirm there was a sunset and a sunrise in that timespan - without food or water, without company. Only the progressing delirium of my own mind. Finally, the door to my cell flung open. Two guards walked through, and then two others. High officials, one in sparkling regalia, and the other in a suit. I hardly felt composed - this could be the hour of my death, after all - so it took my a while to register the identities of the two officials. 
 
 First was General Writingprompt himself - had I offended him so much that he wished to see me executed personally? But no, he did n't seem offended. In fact, his face was beaming, and he seemed to be looking at me with affection. 
 
 Second was... someone even more familiar. It could n't be - President Reddit?? President Reddit seemed even happier. 
 
 `` Private Crunch?'' the latter spoke. I nodded. 
 
 `` Private Crunch,'' he continued, `` your country owes you a great debt. We still do n't know how to fathom what you did or what you said to the General here, but he's convinced that you just won the United States their first victory in this war.'' 
 
 Needless to say, I blushed with pride, but I was confused. Was the evil thing I did really important for the war effort? 
 
 `` From now on,'' said the President, we are going to assign you your own special unit for command. You're going to be a strategic consultant, and you're going to train others to think like you. You're going to express what you're thinking to our officers, just like you did to General Writingprompt.'' 
 
 The news was overwhelming. I did n't know what to say. 
 
 General Writingprompt took over. `` Now, you wo n't be under my command any more - technically you'll be absorbed into the bureaucracy of the Navy. They're the ones with the budget for your project right now. You'll be promoted to the rank of Admiral, so in fact we're going to be equivalents.'' 
 
 I looked at President Reddit, who just nodded. This was the beginning of my new life. 
 
 
 

