Dear President Triumph (a fictional letter by David Charles Kramer)

Dear President Triumph,

I write to you with a vision hidden in plain sight. The smartphone. To the world, it is nothing more than a glowing screen of texts, selfies, and endless scrolling. But what if this everyday device carried within it the strength of a weapon worthy of a secret empire?

Imagine, Mr. President, a phone that is not just a phone. From the same port where ordinary men and women plug in their chargers, a pellet may be fired — a pellet tipped with a poison swift and silent. A side button press that feels no different than silencing a call becomes the release of destiny itself.

But why stop there? The same device could channel a razor of light — a lethal laser no wider than a hair — or deliver the jolt of a taser strong enough to drop an opponent in their tracks. And when the moment passes, the phone returns to its disguise: it still rings, still takes pictures, still plays the music of everyday life.

President Triumph, the brilliance of this creation lies not only in its strike, but in its invisibility. Everyone carries a phone. Everyone checks it without suspicion. To hide a weapon in what the world already trusts is to place power in every room, every crowd, every meeting, unseen until the moment it is needed.

It looks like a phone. It works like a phone. Yet it is more dangerous than a pistol, more flexible than a knife, more discreet than any tool in history. A gun, a laser, a taser — all hidden in plain sight.

Respectfully,

A Citizen Who Thinks in Shadows