*The Battle that Was Not*

They stood in a row facing each other. Painted in war colors, wrapped in metallic armor, erect and tall as giants. Their expression is signed. Their gaze is aligned forward. Their swords are inferior to their sheaths.

They were brought here, to the battlefield to fight. It was the first and last battle of its kind.
 Each side represented a dominant idea and preceded it by a long history of a nation, of culture, of traditions and laws to be obeyed.

To the sound of trumpets and the beating of hearts and drums, the flag-bearers, mounted on metal horses, galloped out from both sides of the field and passed side by side and between the rows of soldiers.

In this battle there were no cavalry, archers or air forces. Only colored soldiers wrapped in armor. The battle began. The soldiers, eighteen in number in each camp, drew their swords, reciting the warriors' oath in their metallic, emotionless voice that was heard throughout the entire stadium and above its towering walls. The crowd cheered excitedly. So much was dependent on this battle and much more will be told about it.

The soldiers shouted:

I swear to protect every human soul,

I may not harm a person, or, by inaction, allow a person. Be come to hurt.