Presently, they have been placed in a no-win situation as if they were cliffhangers. Before the turn of this new 21st century they had begun a daring expedition in search for Cape of Good Hope.
With their proud, monstrous chariots they have crossed the river never to turn back. Then they have rushed towards the unknown but broader world to capture the bull‟s eye in the world. This is the real and general Battle Royal. Once again, this is not a war game using dummy bombs and dummy chariots but the stern and coldest battlefront.
However, the War is not visible, not predictable, and rapidly changing. Further, it is soundless, scentless, and boundless White World Warfront. Nonetheless, it doesn‟t matter for career soldiers, for instance, American gunfighters, Japanese samurais, European gladiators, late-blooming Asian machismos, and unknown but would-be dark-horses.
For such a reason, the tug-of-war will be the most ruthless, bloodier and dangerous War. Prior to launching military campaigns all the warriors had gauged underlying blue mood on the track in advance. Based upon humint (human intelligence) they appraised geographical advantages and disadvantages, either absolute or comparative, and the like.
Each of them, also, fathomed rivals' military power and career diplomatic skills - either strategic reassurance or soft alliance. Here and there, nationalism and cosmopolitanism is also underway with horse trade and ambush marketing. Their overall powers including likely future responses have been set up for the campaign.
Recently they have regrouped new landing forces, moral and material, and stowed huge masses of explosives and stockpiles of ammunition. Then all the titled world powers—ruling powers G5 or G7, newly emerging pretenders to the throne G20, and unknown dark horses altogether—have prepared for everything and loaded an aircraft carrier with monstrous chariots and offensive weapons such as spikes and machine guns. As if they had been unforgivable deadly foes each other they have been posed to fight each other like wrestlers‟ collar-and-elbow.
Under the string-pulling and smoke-screen they have sent storming parties in the forefront line. Then they have begun maneuvering. The skirmishes have started with military march across national borders. The great Seas--Pacific, Atlantic and Indian Oceans are full of snags under the sea to snipe at each other. Now, the political weather is full of tension, turbulent, and challenging.
The landscape toward the Coronal is geographically tough and crooked. The road to the World Championship is all shell-pocked and filled with wiry and bamboo barriers. So it looks risky and deadly dangerous. Indeed, the worldwide global powers have drastically changed the world weather like comets that are shooting towards the blue satellite. Even under the blue sky the mood is blue.
“Requiem for a Dream”
In a bright day the curtain has been lifted up. Tuned to the soundtrack, Requiem for a Dream, composed by Clint Mansell, the preamble on the White War is orchestrated on. But the Dream is not oriented on so-called Pareto Efficiency. Their Dream is far distant on realizing economic justice, public equality, social welfare, and technical progress. In their mere nature, the professional prospectors are inclined to fulfill their boyish hopes
and dreams. But their Dream is personal and Eros. It is not public, not Agape at all. Like confirmed gamblers, they would put their cards in their sleeves to put their personal ambition over the public welfare. It is a blunt fact in human history.
Thus, Thomas Hobbes had predicted long ago that „the state of nature is a war of all against all.‟ In accordance to his prophesy, they‟ll begin all-out and/or asymmetrical attacks over the real or potential competitors/enemies as if they had been mortal enemies. So far, the whole world seems to have been covered with the dreamlike peace with a breezy wind. But, by any measure it must be a cold peace and shame.
With the new millennium come the „cold peace‟ might become a handful piece of dream. Now it seems to be brief and brittle like a breeze. From afar and near, a storm is forming already with the storm boats ashore. The air is mistily trembling with a crack of thunder.
Like a lightening in the sky, the spark has come with dead shot. The eye of the day is gloomy and darkish. With the war cloud, the drenching storm is approaching soon as if it preludes a deadly combat. There is no storm-proof shelter in the World Cup Game. Already match-making list is settled and prepared.
The spirit of general war is knocking on the door in the backward spring. Anxiety is spreading all over the ground. Already the fake peace has been broken down so that it will be interrupted and shattered into the pieces.
With the humdrum from the marching soldiers, the final battle is approaching as we speak. Truly, it is imminent and inevitable. Sooner or later, whether conscious or unconscious, the door will be open at the earthly World Coliseum.
Coupled with the wind of war, the sound of the fifes and drums will resound over the Coliseum. And then the hardly hearable sound of war shall echo in the ears of the local peoples frighteningly, setting them all agape.