Weird to think how we used to live here with families like normal city people, before our families died in the war, one way or another, and we were relocated from camp to camp until we washed up in old town. I haven’t seen my family since I was eight. That’s twelve years ago. Of course, I’m not supposed to think sad things about the war dead. I’m supposed to think about how they died for free trade and liberty and American values, like they stood on the front line themselves and laid down suppressive fire on the enemy.
