Technology Implies Struggle And Aggression

There are a thousand different ways
That I could look upon what is
The what, why, and how
I could start from any specific point
I could try and view it from an older or newer lense
I could try and view it from outside or inside
There is a thousand pushes and pulls of neurosis
You can overthink things
You can underthink things
I decide to just accept that I am only so much
I am neither a prisoner of analysis or ignorance

I am an Illumien
I stand upon the bodies of my forefather's enemies
I stand upon the graves of heroes, conscripts, and misanthropes
Civilization is a burden, and rarely does a man accept it freely
The First One accepted it because my people were rats
We lived in the filth, with short lives and no hope.
If we lived in a land of plenty, we would've hunted and gathered all our days
If we lived in a land of good enough, we would've civilized much sooner
Disease can be a terrible thing, and so can hatred from the land
My people were forced to make the last choice
The hardest choice
The choice that no one would choose to make if they could avoid it
The choice to sell your soul for the ability long enough for three mature generations

You buy your soul back only to be left to squalor in your own hubris
To think you are some almighty power and so smart
To cut the throat of your brother
To take the rights of your fellow people
To be carved up into squabbling and weakness
While the sharks circle around your civilization
So you sell your soul again for a way out
To have just some shred of hope
To have the dignity of being small and kneeling again

Ever since then it has been a struggle
You rise up from mud only to return to new mud
That has become our entire way of life for a Millennium
Standing in the mud to protect what meagerness and shine is ours
To stand upon unkind soil and the riches of rocks
To toil and toil and toil, only to have to fight for mud
To pick and pick and pick, only to forge into weapons
To look in the mirror and hope weakness hasn't arrived
To hope you will know if it would sneak in

And the factories
The sickly sweetness of the factories
The factories that make firearms
It's only fitting that they can make such things
Because once the factories start to hum along
Your entire way of life is held at a sort of gunpoint
Once the enemy get factories you have to get your own
Once that happens the armies expand to the maximum
And then the factories cry out for more hands
The men go out to protect what is ours
The women are placed from the home to the factory
And the children must learn math, reading, and science

The men that go off to die wish to decide
The women that hammer and rivet wish to speak
There isn't enough bodies or hands to deny a stranger
Into the uniform you go
Into the factory you go
Into the ballot box you go
Produce, work, fight, vote, die
More work
More struggle
More change
More science
More revolution
More adaption

And the weapons and armor pile up
And the ammunition and shells pile up
And the bodies begin to all pile up
And the votes begin to pile up
But the enemy just
And there is always another enemy
And all of this shifting gives you 5%
So you jab the bayonet into his belly
So you raise your rifle and pull the trigger
So you hear the coordinates and drop the shell in
So you move the crosshairs and fire the HEAT round

You are now a prisoner not of want and fear, but something new
You are locked in the prison of what you become
You stand in your camouflage and wonder what your purpose is
And then you make another horrible mistake
Which pushes you over the edge into another thing no one willingly would choose
You see the sharks circling another like yourself
You see the free man made prisoner
You realize what the factories sneak into you

You had no choice because you were hungry
You had no choice because you were hopeless
You had no choice because you were hated
You had no choice now
Death or suffering is not a choice
Either death is so bad you have to choose suffering
Or the suffering exceeds any value in remaining alive
It's like boiling water and altitude

Confederation
Immigration
Assimilation
Adaptation

Even if the wars stop you're surrounded by large military powers
Breathing room is something everyone needs
So you struggle, struggle and struggle to get into space
Only to struggle, struggle, and struggle against the horrors you find out there

Is it overly long?
Is it my, our perspective?
Yes
It's a start however