Stalking Vol 2 The Bridge of Reason
doesn’t matter what we believe, only that we choose between what’s on offer, while the
incessant bombardment of the same underlying e vents cause us to not look beyond those choices.
The more adamant and outrageous the better the distraction, and the less likely there will be a
unification of right-thinking people, who are targeted for ostracism to make credibility an issue.
And once raised…?" She motioned her point aside as one previously stated. "I want you to focus
on your personal progression of fear."
"Get me started," I said, still processing her point, and unsure of what she meant.
"You were terrified in El Salvador and, as far as I can tell, never again were you particularly
afraid in combat. True?"
"K ind of—not in the same way. I see your point though; I got used to it."
"Relative to the horrors of your first exposure, yes," she added. "By particularly afraid," she
parenthesized with her fingers, "I do not mean you were without fear. I am talking about
accumulating it in various circumstances, which you interpreted as adrenaline rushes that you
tamed by guzzling beer. Warrior cultures are no different. They accumulate fear," she sa id,
stacking her hands one on top of the other, "becoming accustomed to it until something has to
give. This could be a race riot based on a traffic ticket, or the deliberate construction of an event
designed to relieve the stress, such as attacking the alleged threat a government puts in front of
"How do you define warrior cultures?"
"Total the number of years of peace and those of war any nation has experienced since its
creation, and draw your own conclusions."
"Their causes will skew the numbers."
"Not in any way. Peace 'is,' without doing anything. The question is, who will be willing to
face themselves, and who will have to repeat their lessons in self-treachery?"
"How would I know?"
"You sound like a tourist shouting, 'You can't do this to me!'" she said, chuckling. "The
question was rhetorical."
"That reminds me of an incident in Iran," I said, deflecting.
Bonnie cocked her head in puzzlement.
"You asked me to say whatever comes to mind?"
"So I did."
"Around day eleven of the hostage crisis, the Revolutionary Guard arrested us for allegedly
taking pictures of restricted sites. We hadn't, which our confiscated tape would prove, while our
jailers entertained themselves by poking bayonets into our ce ll. Joe Schlesinger, tired of the
taunting, leaned against the bars…" I chuckled, "and told four guards that the new regime was
staging massive demonstrations for the benefit of western reporters, and he was about to miss his
deadline!" I laughed.
Bonnie looked perplexed.
"You can't do this to me?'" I said with transparent glee.
"I understood that. I just don't see the humor in your situation."
"I guess it came from nervous tension at the time," I said lamely.
"And now you’re bringing those fears into the present. You must have been angry with