“I’m sorry but we are going to have to do it now.” “Well,” I say, slinging my bag onto my shoulder, blinking back tears, “this is goodbye.” I reach out to feel his fur beneath my hands for one last time. Goodbye to the happy memories, the sad memories, the funny memories. Goodbye to his elated face, the morning walks and the countless nights we spent together. He pushes his face into my hand, his tail wagging very slowly now, barely a movement against the table. I will never experience a loss like this again.
He hides, under the shelter of an U m b r e l l a Out of the rain.
He lurkes, in every child’s I m a g i n a t i o n Waiting to inflict pain.
He stares, ever observing the phenomenon O f l i f e Which is exploited in surplus.
He fears, that he will be resigned to N i g h t m a r e s Because that is his purpose.
There’s a knock at the door just as I’m drying the dishes and I look up at the clock. 10:46pm. Could I really be bothered to answer it? No, I wasn’t but suddenly the knocking intensifies, getting louder and faster with every second. “Alright, I’m coming!” I shout, hurring out the kitchen. The hallway is dark, so I switch a side lamp on to illuminate my path and grab the door keys from the bowl next to it. I place the knife I was drying on the side table by the door and fumble with the keys. Unlocking it and cracking it open reveal something I really did not want to see tonight. Or ever again.
“Hello, Grace.” Crisp, formulated words ring in my ears. How quickly a night changes.
“You left me to die in that hell hole.” Is what I want to say in response, bile rising up my throat at the sight of his arrogant face smiling at me from the sliver of the doorway. I want to kill him.
Instead I swallow and —
“It’s good to see you again.” I lie through my teeth and widen the door ever so slightly. “What brings you here at this time of night?” I try a small chuckle.
“Oh, you know, nothing in particular.” He says casually, shrugging his shoulders, hands in his pockets. “I just thought I’d — ” he pauses, and swallows, “drop in and see if the rumors were true that you were hiding out here.” His narrowing eyes fix on mine. My throat goes dry, and I take short sharp intakes of the freezing night.
“No words? You were always one to talk… Perhaps you would care to invite me in? Maybe then you can regain the linguistic ability of speech.” He steps closer to the door, hand outstretched as if to force the door wide open. If I had my way, I would rather that man on my doorstep would be six feet underground than anywhere near my house.
“I’m sorry, but it’s late and — ” My frugal attempts at backing out of the situation are met with his hand wedged in the doorway gap, preventing me from closing it. I’m sure he could hear my heart racing if he listened. In an adrenaline-fueled act I spot a glint of metal to my right, behind the door where he can’t see.
“It would only take a second.” He’s saying, but I’m not really listening anymore, not with this intense desire to get rid of him. His hand is still there and I’m focused on the knife, and reaching the knife and —
Metal piereces flesh in a split second.
The tension in the air is as thick as the gray cloud that obscures the sun’s rays. I’m sat on a chair at the back of the stage with the rest of the candidates, trying to take it all in, trying to study as many of the faces in the crowd as possible. My knee bobbing up and down on overdrive. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. A human becoming president in such a diverse world? I don’t think so. Neither will the votes; I will no doubt be at the bottom of the public polls. Humans are so unpopular nowadays. An unpopularity I wish to exterminate.
The fae creature who has just delivered their speech descendes from the podium. Their speech was about peace and treaties — something no fae I have ever come across is capable of. Quite a contrast to what I will be proposing. They return to their seat and it’s my turn.
“Last candidate, please come forward.” The elfin man leans back from the microphone. Gather my thoughts. Gather my racing heart and strap it up with a thousand pieces of tape. The lecturn on the pedestal comes closer with every step. Settle my paper on to the lecturn. Take a deep breath knowing it could be my last.
“As president,” I pause, scanning the masses, “I would bring one thing to the table.” Another, longer pause. “I want to resurrect the ancestory humans.” And suddenly the silence turns into a rowdy mix of shouts, pushes and utter, complete, disarray. Strong hands grip my shoulders.
I smile as I am dragged away by the two ogres. Seven words is all it took. Seven words and the world I hate, I detest, I loathe, is falling to pieces.
For a monster so capable of destruction, I found it to be quite beautiful to behold. The true peak of mankind’s engineering, born into the world after many mistakes were made. It, the epitome of its era, reduced to a killing machine evolving on its own concious knowledge. And now it had turned on the men which had built it. As I stood in the line with the others, waiting for the general’s command, I wondered. Maybe this should be how we die; how humanity ends. Machines taking over would be very appropriate, due to the amount of power we’ve allowed them to have. In a way, this is our own doing.
The cry of the general fills the frigid air. The mechmachine monster turns on its metallic legs, clicking as it focuses its attention on us. Bright red eyes the colour of blood yet to be spilled pierce us, scrutinizing our every movement. We lift our guns on the second command, and fire on the third. The flourescent jets of blue light from them are met with a torrent of twisting red fire that the mechmachine conjures up from its gaping mouth. The sudden spread of the glow illuminates the underside of the mechmachine, revealing human-like ribs and a metal spine running through the middle. The gun vibrates in my hands as I fire shot after shot at it, as we all fire at it. Our desperation is palpable. Its six legs are planted firmly in the rough land, kicking up dust as we are commanded closer to the beast. The more we fire, the more I realise that this metallic monster is not taking any of the damage we are inflicting. Until one shot reaches its flaming eye.
It howls. Howls is a strange word to be associated with a machine, but it howls. Ear-ripping, head shaking wails that rip through us. And just like that, the angry ball of red fire at its mouth doubles, triples in size and is flung like a laser jet down the middle at the front five rows of soliders. Obliterates them. Burns them. It falls onto its side having used up its energy, crushing its left legs with a final howl. Now that the lapping flames dance around us, the few remaining people, the intensity of the light increases, illuminating the land around the fallen beast. We greatly underestimated this.
Behind, are mere thousands of the same spider-like machines, arising from the foggy mist that shrouds the landscape. They surge forward at an alarming rate. Many of us turn to run.
I am in the sixth row, now the front row, and reality has hit me like a blow to the head. We cannot defeat these monsters of our own creation. There is no ‘could’ or ‘might’. Humanity will end at the pointed hands of these machines.
