5.7 cm long. .9 cm across. Brass, steel, and powder.

I love you. I imbue you with power and with luck. You, me, and your 19 friends we’ll take on the world.

Tiny soulless pillar of strength, you don’t feel fear or even worry. To you the odds of catastrophic mechanical failure are as incalculable as counting the stars in the perfect night sky. I look up and marvel at the brilliance of the Milky Way; you sit, wait, and remain still.

Within your lifeless frame is death, in that my life. 3,600 meters of potential in such a tiny package, though admittedly the potential is greater if you stay within 600 meters. Would they dare come within your bite? Shall I cause you to bark forth, sting of death upon your tip?

Go a while with me. Stay close at hand, ready at my finger’s beckon. Should you have to leave, do so swiftly. Find upon the field a new friend, my enemy, to stay with him so briefly and forever.

Fear not, small friend. No, you do not. Shall I tell myself the same?

It’s worth a shot.