This morning I found an envelope on the breakfast table with my name on it (no I will not tell you my name, let me be clear about that). It was a plain white envelope with 'Ministry of Defense' in small letters on the backside. Spreading a generous amount of white chocolate spread on a slice of whole grain bread, I briefly wondered if it could be ignored. A quick check (head: check, arms: check, phone: check, legs: check, torso: check!) resulted in the conclusion that I still haven't turned into a country, so it probably won't be a declaration of war.

Curiosity got the better of me so I ripped open the envelope with my Swiss army knife (the one I normally only carry because it has a good Phillips screwdriver bit. It doesn't have any viable offensive capabilities other than cutting your own fingers if the blade folds back in while operating it). The letter inside the envelope was a notification of registration for possible future conscription into military service, based on my age. It also stated that call ups for military service were currently suspended and that they did not mean to deploy me to the war in Ukraine, yet. Signed by the Minister of Defense. (It is unlikely that the signature was put there by the Minister herself, given the number of letters). As far as I could see, there was no disclaimer that no rights could be claimed based on this piece of writing, so I decided to store it somewhere safe, just in case.

Robyn asked me what I would do if I would be summoned to fight in a war. I returned the question to her, because she would probably get this same letter later this year. (Hurray for emancipation!). The genders can now be slayed in equal proportions. I guess this might be a savings on widows pensions. Together we Googled the rules of engagement and found out that maybe now would be a good time to join the clergy, just in case. Browsing through the rules of some of the major religions led us to believe that that didn't sound like the soft option after all. Vows of celibacy didn't sound that attractive for someone currently in a love triangle relationship with the Twins.

Looking at how things are currently going on in the East, with civilian casualties, full scale breaches of the Geneva conventions and such, maybe some sort of training and the availability of weaponry could come in handy, if the war really comes this far. Being illegally killed as a civilian versus the chance to shoot back or be killed legally as a soldier... In the end, dead is dead either way.

Then Dad entered the discussion. He told us that when he was young in the Stone Age, he passed the rigorous mandatory mental and physical testing (How many fingers am I holding up? Pee in this cup! You are now declared fit for duty!), but just happened to live in the era where conscription into military service was being suspended in favour of a professional army. When contemplating changing between studies, he had even called the Army to find out how big the risk of being called was. When they answered that if he really, really, REEEALLY wanted to, he could write a letter to maybe get a chance to be added to the final list of conscripts. He had then told them thank you very much and forget I called and lived happily ever after and free from sorrows for another ten years or so. He wouldn't say what ended that period, but I have my suspicions.

Out of curiosity, Dad asked whether we would have the nerve to shoot the girl/guy/transgender/drone on the other side first, if it came to that. I felt that the lessons in Ethics of our secondary school might have missed the opportunity to address important life choices of that magnitude. Yes, you shouldn't kill people... but.... What if they didn't hear about that rule? A right kind of mess if you ask me.

Robyn's idea to start a militia was quickly sunk for constitutional reasons. Civilians are not allowed to bear arms (or arm bears), unlike some other countries. The idea being that if you are armed, you are either a soldier, a police officer or a criminal. Since the first two can usually be recognised by their uniforms, the latter stands out and can be safely shot at without the risk of accidentally shooting an 'innocent' armed civilian. At least, that is the theory. I agreed with my Sister that we should investigate the boundaries of illegal weaponry to see what possibilities we still have. As Dad went off to work, he mumbled that our recently acquired instruments also probably violated a dozen arms treaties anyway.

Browsing the government pages and the books of Law, we made a list of our restrictions. So, knives are allowed if the blade is not larger than the palm of your hand, have a centered pointy end and no quick-draw or torture features. Then there were some rules on where you weren't allowed to carry any weapons or tools that could be used as such.

Protecting your pet halfbrick by putting it in a sock could be illegal if you were to take it for a walk to the shopping mall. We couldn't find anywhere that stated a limit to the number of knives per person though, so we decided to start from there. Robyn texted Joan if she could look into the subject of armour plating and Mary to investigate the merits of chemical warfare, purely hypothetical and within the Geneva conventions of course, a harmless sleeping agent would be nice and could be useful even in peacetime applications like when you get home slightly later at night than previously discussed with your parents.

Caiman Raptor Elk

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