Infrared Dreams: I Wish My Eyes Would Rot

by
Abby Zimet

For over five years, Brandon Bryant worked in a locked, windowless, trailer-like container in New Mexico that hummed with computers. When he pressed a button, someone died on the other side of the world. One time, it was a child who suddenly appeared by a mud house targeted with lasers. More on drone operators, PTSD, and the ramifications when our invisible warfare becomes unexpectedly, necessarily real to those waging it.

"Did we just kill a kid?" he asked the man sitting next to him.

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