a drone is a drone is a drone

a drone is a drone is a drone

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

I came down to Venezuela to investigate allegations that the United States army was using unmanned drones to dispatch civilian individuals.

In a village two hundred miles South of Calabazo an incident had occurred that United nations war crimes monitors felt could be unlawful interference by intelligent machines in the death of a boy of about nine years old.

I entered the house where the boy's bloated body lay with a sense of foreboding and unease.

Maybe a quarter of a million bees and wasps slept quietly on all the walls of the interior of the home. My steps did not seem to disturb the resting insects. The insects bunched in colorful patterns and there was a surrealistic texture to the nesting that suggested intelligent design. More than anything the colorful circular designs created by the resting bees and wasps resembled the Mandala's of India that I had drawn as teenager to please one of my girlfriends.

What kind of damage could swarms of these colorful bees, wasps and hornets inflict? I dared not roll the dead bloated boy over to inspect the face to find out.

Leaving the small house I felt more than heard the military weather drone high above monitoring my steps as I rushed through the deserted village to return to our vehicle. In my head I began to figure my report on the incident of whether drones could now influence insects to attack humans.

A drone is a drone is a drone I thought.