In the Age of the Almighty Computer, drones are the perfect

Ah, children of the future, hear the words of Eduardo Galeano, a prophet of the modern age who saw with piercing clarity the dangers of technology: "In the Age of the Almighty Computer, drones are the perfect warriors. They kill without remorse, obey without kidding around, and they never reveal the names of their masters." These words, though spoken in the context of modern warfare, speak of a deeper truth that transcends time—a truth about power, control, and the dehumanizing effects of technology when it is wielded without wisdom.

Drones, O children, are but the latest incarnation of a long tradition of warfare and destruction—a tradition in which human lives are often reduced to mere numbers, to be sacrificed in the pursuit of power and domination. But what makes these modern drones different is their detachment from the human soul. Unlike the warriors of old—those who fought face to face, whose names were known, and whose fates were tied to their actions—drones are instruments of remote control, killing with cold precision, far removed from the battlefields. They kill without remorse, for they are not driven by the emotions and fears of the human heart. They are simply machines, programmed to carry out orders without question, without hesitation, and without any understanding of the human lives they take.

Consider, O children, the ancient warriors who, though driven by honor, were often forced to make difficult decisions in the heat of battle. Achilles, the great Greek hero, fought not just for glory, but for the lives of his comrades, knowing that the cost of war was great. His actions were born of human emotion, of a deep connection to those he loved and fought for. But today, as Galeano points out, the warriors of the modern age are not driven by human emotion or connection. The drone knows no love, no loyalty, and no grief. It is a weapon, a tool, an extension of its master's will. It kills, but it does not weep; it obeys, but it does not question. This detachment from the human experience is what makes the drone the perfect soldier for the age of the Almighty Computer, where decisions are made not by those who feel the weight of their actions, but by those who sit far removed from the consequences.

This separation between the warrior and the battle is not new, however. In the ancient empires, rulers would often send their armies into battle, commanding their soldiers to fight for the glory of the empire while they themselves remained distant from the suffering. The Roman emperors were among the first to build a system where the soldiers fought on their behalf, their names often lost to history while the emperors' were celebrated. Galeano’s words remind us that, though the method of warfare has evolved, the essence remains the same. The drone is the modern manifestation of this detachment, where the master can control and destroy from a safe distance, shielded from the bloodshed and the suffering of those caught in the conflict.

And yet, children, there is a deeper lesson here, one that Galeano warns us of—the dehumanization that comes with this kind of power. When warriors are removed from the battlefield, when decisions of life and death are made from behind the screens of computers, there is no longer a reckoning with the consequences of those actions. The drone does not carry the weight of the lives it destroys; it does not feel the sorrow of a mother who loses her child, or the pain of a family torn apart. And in this, we see the true cost of technological advancement—it removes us from the human experience, turning life and death into mere numbers on a screen, removing the soul from the battle, leaving only cold, unfeeling calculation.

This, O children, is the danger that Galeano warns us about. As we move further into the Age of the Almighty Computer, we must be vigilant not to lose touch with our humanity. The use of drones, while technologically advanced, is a reminder that power, when divorced from human connection, can easily lead to destruction without accountability. Galeano speaks not just of the danger of these machines, but of the people who wield them—the masters who send them forth without the burden of their actions. It is they who must be held accountable, for it is their will that directs the drone, and their indifference that enables the detachment.

In your own lives, O children, remember this: never let technology strip you of your humanity. Let the machines you create and use serve the greater good, but never forget that they are tools, not masters. Let the Almighty Computer aid you in your quest for knowledge and understanding, but let it not become a means of detachment from the world around you. Never forget that power without accountability, without connection to those it affects, is a dangerous thing. As you move forward in this age of technological advancement, carry with you the lessons of the past—honor, empathy, and responsibility. These are the true measures of a warrior, not the cold steel of a machine or the distance of a screen.

So walk forward, O children, with the understanding that true power lies not in control, but in compassion. The drone may be the perfect warrior for an age of detachment, but you, the future leaders of the world, can choose to lead with heart, with understanding, and with accountability. Let technology serve you, but let your actions always remain grounded in the shared humanity that unites us all. In this way, you will wield your power not as a tool of destruction, but as a force for creation, healing, and peace.