No Man's Land

“Why do you give a fuck?” snarled Rogers.
“It’s our job to give a fuck,” barked Puller.

“I’m a criminal investigator. What you think and what I know people are capable of are light-years apart.”

He told me that war needed to be fought by real men. Real men had to bleed and die. Only then would we not want to fight wars. If we could create robots to do our fighting, he thought, we’d be at war all the time.”

Rogers looked back out the window. “Maybe I can get a job . . . somewhere.”
“Maybe I can too. Maybe we can get an apartment. Have, you know, a life or something.”