My first memory is of a bright light. And then, suddenly, that of a lounging beam pressing into the iris of my vision. A steaming liquid streams from the instrument wetting my pupils. Soon my sight heightens to percieve the full color spectrum for the first time. I am on a rubber revolving tract nearly mouth to mouth with my doubles, who kindly purse me kisses as machines flesh their lips with red chapstick. Each of our eyes is the very bluest that blue can go, and none fail to glimmer. Every pair is polished by daggers of diamond to the best possible sheen. All of us are poured into private theaters where the manufacturers exhibit instructional videos told in story formats. Every life is precious we learn. Weapons built with inbuilt moral discretion. Inneately wired to discriminate between appropriate force and unjustified action. Perfect tools for a new age.