Virtual Deer Hunter

The man on the train beside me is a virtual deer hunter. He turns his phone, lines up the buck and fires. The bullet moves in slow motion towards the target. The blood sprays; the animal collapses in a death spasm. The man moves to another target. He chooses a deadlier assault rifle for the next hunt. He shoots his cannon at bears, wolves, elk and moose. The results are always the same. He takes phony contracts for quick kills. Piles of carcasses amass on his smartphone screen. His score goes up, death by death, digit by digit. More kills, more virtual animals, more virtual bodies. His screen has me thinking of death and distraction. I recall a childhood moment as we move. I am in the woods of Pennsylvania. I have a rifle in my hands. I walk softly through the brush. And a doe peers through the trees at me. Her eyes dark and glassy. Her mouth chewing food. We stare for an eternity before I take aim at the sky. I shoot one bullet into the air. The doe careens off into the forest. And I go home a happy virtual hunter. Without a single kill to my name.