When we were kids, we possessed the Ultimate Secret Weapon—and we weren’t afraid to use it. The Ultimate Secret Weapon had the power to right any wrong, to get us out of any jam, or to help a friend in trouble. It never failed us, and we relied on its awesome abilities every day.
The Ultimate Secret Weapon consisted of two words: "I’m telling." By saying these words, we broadened the scope of our world from just us kids into the realm of adults. It was an unwavering article of faith among us that once an adult knew what was going on, they would immediately step in and fix things. It didn’t matter which adult; it could be anyone: a parent, a teacher, a store clerk. Anyone with authority would know the right thing to do. Usually though, no adult was required: the words themselves were sufficient to keep us in line.
The Ultimate Secret Weapon could be deployed in any of three potencies. For minor infractions, it was said with a smile, in a singsong voice. For bigger transgressions, when we really meant it, it was spoken louder and more sternly. And in rare cases, it was used full strength. In these cases, there was always a short pause before the words came, slowly and quietly. "Uh oh. Now you’ve done it. I’m telling…"
There was no shame in the Ultimate Secret Weapon. We used it freely and often. None of us ever even thought about being a turncoat or a fink, because we all knew and shared this magical ability. If any of us had failed to use it when necessary, it would have weakened its power.
I speak of my childhood in the second person deliberately. For us, there was a camaraderie that bound us together through thick and thin. We looked out for each other in all our adventures. If someone was injured during a game of tag or baseball, we stopped the game and got help. If someone fell behind on our rambles through the Great Dark Woods, we went back to find him. Sometimes we even pretended to lose at Chinese Checkers, just to let our opponent feel better.
Of course, in reality, the "Ultimate Secret Weapon" was none of those things. It wasn’t secret, and it was anything but a weapon. However, we were strongly influenced by our comic book heroes. Their names and their abilities always used superlatives, and implied great might.
Truth be told, the Ultimate Secret Weapon was not even ultimate. Ray and Paul were a year older than I was, and they had a trump card. "If you tell anyone, we’ll beat the tar out of you after school." I was so scared of that threat that I let them get away with murder. They took my lunch, they cheated off my tests, and they teased me mercilessly. I don’t recall if they ever actually made good on their threat. I do know that years later, we all became good friends.
But all that is ancient history. These days, things are much different. The Ultimate Secret Weapon no longer exists. I can imagine a conversation with a six-year-old today. "That’s awful! Why didn’t you tell anyone?", I say to him. His eyes roll slightly. "No way, man. You don’t rat on your buds." "Why not?" "You just don’t."
Justice these days employs force, and often augments that force with weapons. These weapons are not words like ours were; they are actual physical devices that can inflict great harm or even kill. Children today somehow obtain things that we never dreamed of, and even take pride in their possession. Guns and high explosives are the reality in the classrooms and suburban bedrooms of this new century.
Progress is good, they say. New ways evolve, and displace the old. Society marches forward, and we all cope with it somehow.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe we really are better off than we were back then.
But I don’t care. Me, I’ll take my Ultimate Secret Weapon any day.