At home with the clatter of keyboards, in bunkers
Of pavement, they're bathed in the light of their solace.
Electrical windows, each framed with the fossils
From earlier eras, are flashing their insights.
A monitor-whisperer coaxes the image
From boxes that warehouse the secrets that aircraft:
Have captured from deserts—the graveyard of titans...
Have offered from turrets—the nails for a casket.
Alive with the milk of the dead, with a palace
Of casein, they press on their keypads: a séance
They practice with ritual uniforms, speaking
To spirits of gas, of the solids—of liquid.
“The Marines say the analysts, who are mostly in their early to mid-20s, paved the way for them to roll into Marja in southern Afghanistan earlier this year with minimal casualties. And as the analysts quickly pass on the latest data from drones and other spy planes, they are creating the fluid connections needed to hunt small groups of fighters and other fleeting targets, military officials say.”
– Christopher Drew, The New York Times, June 7, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/08/technology/08homefront.html?hp
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