The Selection

“Head up, kid.”

The boy was six.  Too young to have been selected, for sure.  From time to time, the selection process went this way, and people gritted their teeth and got it over with.  They watched it happen, hoping that the next selection would be someone much older, to maybe counter balance this one.

“Head up.  Meet this with courage and honor.”

The boy was bewildered, his young mind couldn’t really process the gravity of the situation, but he knew he felt sad.  He thought of his parents, his sister, of never seeing them again.  He worried about the pain of that, the separation.  He worried about the physical pain.  The situation was too big for a mere six year old to understand, but his mind grappled with it, trying desperately for a cognitive hold.

“When they tell you to announce yourself, you need to project your voice.  You need to be loud enough for everyone to hear you.”

The boy only nodded.  

“Remember.  This is it.  You will be remembered in this moment.  People need you to be strong right now.”

The boy thought about death.  His hands were trembling and he was terrified.  The selection was random.  It was supposed to be an honor.  But he felt no honor, only fear.  

When he stepped up, he could see his parents and his sister in the crowd.  They openly wept.  His mom had collapsed to the ground.  His father stood hand in hand with his sister, tears glistening on their cheeks, eyes red and glassy.

The boy projected as instructed. “I have been selected.”  His voice trembled, not with fear of the future, but that he might not remember what they told him to say.  “I accept my fate.  I am humbled by the selection.”  He did not understand the words he spoke.  He did not know what ‘humbled’ meant.  He did not know the word ‘fate’ either.  He parroted the words flawlessly.

The man beside him brimmed with pride.  The youth had followed his instructions.  Grown men sometimes could not muster that same courage.  This six year old could teach those men about courage and honor.

Forty-seven minutes later, the boy entered a corner bistro with explosives strapped to his chest and blew it to smithereens.  The selection committee told the crowd that the boy, as his final act of selflessness, had proclaimed the death toll for Allah, but the boy never said anything about religion or politics, defiantly disobeying explicit instructions.  Instead, he whispered quietly to the innocent patrons closest to him, “I’m sorry.”  

Six year olds trust adults not to lead them astray.  Given time, the boy would have found his voice, gained his footing to stand up.  He would have lead the fight against senseless violence to promote a cause.  He would have lead the world to peaceful organization.  Indeed, he could have taught grown men about courage and honor.  

The selection committee saw the danger in him.  They moved swiftly, decisively.  There was no coincidence to their selection.