You know the drill. You think you do, anyway.

You know all the akas: Hamburger. Spam in a can. Infantry's just another word for cannon fodder where you come from: the important battles are all fought in the wires anyway these days, and they're over in nanoseconds. The last thing you want is to end up in some godforsaken shithole where meat still matters, where you've got to splice yourself into a clanking armored exoskeleton just to keep from getting squashed the moment your boots hit the ground.

You don't want any part of that freak show. It's hard enough getting laid without having cannons for arms.

But here's the deal:

Everything you know is bullshit.

Who do you think protects the wires? How do you think online combat could even happen, without forces in the field to guard the servers and the generators and the physical plants? Even today, it all comes down to people. The systems that protect our borders, our corporations— our very way of life— are built around human hearts. They always will be.

Hearts like yours.

We'll outfit you with rattlesnake genes that let you see in the dark. Extra mitochondria to double your strength and your stamina. We'll slide flexible armor under your skin, special polysaccharides to keep out the blades and bullets without turning you into some kind of crab-shelled freak. Most of your augments won't even be visible to the naked eye.

Best of all, you can literally sleep through most of your tour. Once we work our magic you'll be able to free your mind and let your body run itself. And we guarantee that body will be up to the challenge. Its reflexes will be faster. Its aim will be better. Its tactical decisions will be smarter. Your body on autopilot will be at least 300% safer than it would be if you were awake. That's a fact.

Live through two years, get paid for five. If you can find a better deal, take it.

But what about the future?

When you successfully complete your tour, you get to keep most of your battlefield augments. The night vision. The enhanced strength. The subdermal armor.

Even the Off Switch.

Because we know who you are. We know where you live. You know the odds of making it to your thirtieth birthday as well as we do. And you have more than yourself to worry about now. Tomoki said his first words just a few weeks ago, isn't that right? You know what's in store for him if something doesn't change. If you sign up now, you'll be back in time to protect him during those formative years, and better equipped than ever.

So forget the battlefield. Forget all the action you'll be dreaming through.

Think of the edge you'll have when you get back home.

Those fuckers from the Span won't know what hit them.

(This targeted message courtesy of the WestHem Alliance)