THE BUTTERFLIES WERE EAGLE-BIG THAT DAY
Moderan man recalls the time when he entered the gates leading to the surgery center where he will undergo operations lasting nine months (ah, just like in the womb) replacing flesh with steel to turn him into a true Moderan man.
But will such a transformation be given to the average human? No! A man has to be a man of outstanding courage and true grit, a winner, a champion.
Here's how he proves to himself and others he has the right stuff: "I have the M's," I said simply, humbly as I could. "I'll try to honor them in every way that courage, steadfastness, bravery, common true grit, love of country, and respect for my ancestors can do for any cause. And if that be not enough, I'll throw in some generous portions of élan and a lot of spirit of the corps! I WILL NEVER SURRENDER."
David R. Bunch knows full well these are the desired values demanded by any sports coach, military drill sergeant or business manager in 1950s America - being a team player, honor and loyalty, the ends justifies the means; suffering and sacrifice to achieve goals, victory at any cost.
And, above all else, a capacity to endure pain - anything it takes to be a true blue American hero. Our future Moderan man fits the template to perfection. You gotta love the author's new-new language to express all of this: "For know, we took it M by agony M, bleeding by bleeding cut, starting in early November, for nine months, I and the steel-spliced medicos. (Without a shadow of a doubt they were surgeons of keenest skill.) I watched every cut of the flesh, every nick of the bones, every taking out of a member, every putting in of an implant, for that was part of the plan. The doctors would not make a move, would not so much as scratch the boundary of an M, unless I was fully awake, competently aware. To be born again! and to feel and see how that you were born again. YES! For some time, some later Moderan time, when you stood up tall at your buttons of war, your fort on the status of continuous blast and all the world gunned in against you and each other, it would not prove out well for you to prove out squeamish. To be a Stronghold master was a duty and a trust, not to mention a terrific opportunity. And it might as well be found out in the bed of the cutting-in whether or not a candidate had the "guts." So ran the thinking of the Planners of Moderan."
Wow! For sure, he had the guts. Now, his future is clear - a Stronghold master, a war machine killer, a true blue Moderan man.
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