US IRAN

My Dad Built Drones in Arizona. My Uncle Fixed Power Lines in Isfahan. One Button Ended Both.

Dad worked at Raytheon.

Arizona. Desert. Hot. Quiet.

He built “guidance systems.

Never said “bombs.

We keep pilots safe,” he told me.

I believed him.

Uncle Reza worked for power company.*

Isfahan. Desert. Hot. Quiet.

He fixed transformers.

We keep lights on,” he told my cousin.

*I believed him too.*

*Two deserts. Same sun.*

*Two jobs. Same sentence: “Keeping people safe.”*

*June 14, 2026. 2:17am Tehran time.*

*Dad’s shift. Arizona. 4:47pm.*

*He did routine test.*

*Pressed button. Logged it. Got coffee.*

*Same minute, Isfahan.*

*Uncle Reza got call. Transformer hit.*

*“Grid down. Hospital on backup. Fix fast.”*

*He went. 2:20am. No vest. No warning.*

*Second strike hit substation.*

*“Secondary target. Confirmed military adjacent.”*

*That’s what report said later.*

*Dad didn’t know.*

*He saw coordinates. Not names.*

*Uncle Reza didn’t know.*

*He saw sparks. Not satellites.*

*I found out 6 hours later.*

*Mom screaming. Phone shaking.*

*“Reza is gone. Your uncle. Airstrike.”*

*I looked at Dad.*

*He was watching news.*

*“U.S. CONFIRMS SUCCESSFUL STRIKE ON IRANIAN MILITARY GRID.”*

*He didn’t cheer. Didn’t speak.*

*Just went garage.*

*Came back with box.*

*His badge. His tools. His “guidance systems.”*

*Put on table.*

*“I quit,” he said.*

*No more words. For 3 days.*

*Funeral was Zoom.*

*Me in Arizona. Mom in tears.*

*Cousins in Isfahan. Black screens.*

*No body. Just rubble.*

*Imam said: “He died keeping lights on.”*

*Dad heard. Left room.*

*Night, I found him garage.*

*Holding circuit board. Small. Green.*

*“This one,” he said. “My design.”*

*“Keeps drone steady. In wind. So it hits.”*

*“So it hits what?”*

*He didn’t answer.*

*Put board down. Gentle. Like baby.*

*“I told myself it was buildings.”*

*“Buildings don’t have uncles.”*

*Month later, letter came.*

*From Isfahan. Cousin wrote.*

*“We don’t blame your dad.”*

*“Reza would say: ‘He didn’t push button for me.’”*

*“He pushed it for his son. Like I climbed pole for mine.”*

*“War makes fathers kill fathers.”*

*“Stop having war. Not fathers.”*

*Dad keeps letter in wallet.*

*Under driver license.*

*Above photo of me.*

*He works at hardware store now.*

*Sells nails. Not guidance.*

*Says: “Less accurate. More peace.”*

*I keep circuit board.*

*On desk.*

*Not as trophy. As question.*

*How many “keeping people safe”*

*End up killing people’s safe?

Uncle Reza fixed power.

Dad guided power.

One button connected them.

Forever.

If you build things

If you fix things,

Ask who stands

Where you aim.

Because deserts are big.

But world is small.

And “military adjacent

Has first name.