Abby never thought it would come to this, and yet there she was, standing on the edge of the city’s tallest building, the grimy polluted air whipping through her hair.

You’d think we would have some hope now that we’ve reached Olympia. It’s been our goal to reach this port for decades of space travel, and it took sacrifice and patience for our entire crew. But we arrived to a ghost town. Every citizen of this town is dead. It’s radiation poisoning; the port is too close to the sun, and the sun has shifted to a red dwarf. There’s nothing we can do. We’ll die too; we can’t escape. We’re poisoned already and couldn’t get off this planet without any fuel. So we sit with each other in the restaurants and empty homes. We chat while we have the energy to. Some of us hold hands and hug each other, while others seek solitude and quiet. There’s plenty of food, but none of us have any appetite. Anything we eat tastes like ashes. We’ve lost our hair; our skin is gray. Our eyes begin to cloud with cataracts. We question what brought us here in our moments of lucidity. There were ideas of exploration and conquest. There were muscular ideals of pushing forth to limits, to the apogee of human potential. We flew too close to the sun, ultimately. One by one we begin to bleed from our mouths, from our anuses, and we become too weak to carry on even our minimum routines. We lay on the ground in a circle and murmur to one another. No carrion animals or insects harass us as we rot. They’re all dead as well. We simply respire, waiting for death. I hear their breathing stop, one by one, and there’s only me. I close and open my eyes, all that’s left for me, waiting and praying for death. Strong hands pick me up, in the crumpling plastic of radiation suits. I pass from consciousness and awake in a hospital. I’ve been extubated, and when I can understand words I’m told I’ve been given a bone marrow transplant. Thousands of people on the planet, hundreds of members of my crew are dead. They have arrived in time to rescue me, only me.

The city was already buzzing with traffic at 4 am. Some people zombie walking their way to work, while others were on their daily run and community walks. A beautiful Colby jack blend of personalities were conversing with each other as they waited for the bus. As the bus lowered itself to the ground the force of air to slow it down was causing a bit of mayhem amongst them. I overheard a small older woman saying to her friend who was a bit taller but still had the same aged wisdom lines throughout her face.

"The engineers have yet to figure that little problem out for some reason. I'm not saying I have the answer but it's been over 1000 years since the bus was originally created," she exclaimed.

Rain symbolises sadness. Otherworldly forces pissing on your chances, dreams, and hope.

To me, rain was incredible. Impossible. And it was falling… down Down. Down.

My permanently downcast neck strained to the neon and metal bordered heavens above. Shit. Fire sprinklers.

In a city devoid of most wood or anything remotely natural, especially within the lower sectors you’d think it impossible. Like rain. Unlike rain however I’ve seen fire kill. Maim. And lick.

Flickering tongues consumed with the passion of food, it’s fuel.

Humans.

Humanity has deprived itself of what we used to know, as machineries are what now sets the world in such a drive. As the neon lights gleamed, Raya ponders as to how the world has become so modernized. Technology was supposed to be a tool that helps us get by — now it has become everyone’s vice.

Raya casts her eyes upon the towering skyscrapers that basically hung the skies. She used to love this place, yet everything seemed so different. She wanted to do so much more. She wanted to be able to go out and smell the fresh breeze; she wanted to see animals, yet the closest thing she could ever get are those latest models of machine pets; she wants to be able to experience an actual job, one that doesn’t primarily require the use of tech yet there wasn’t really a point in such a thing when the world is run by AI; she wanted to go into a library and be able to pick up a — what do you call it again? a book?  She couldn’t quite remember. Such a place ceases to exist in such a period of time. She wanted to be able to hold on to the fragments of the past before they faded into nothing, before they became nothing but a mere figment of one’s imagination.

“What would they think?” she thought. Everyone kept telling her to just drop it. “The world is better off being run by doodads, anyway” is what they’d tell her. Everyone likes to live their lives with just one click; they prefer to have everything in their grasp in an instant. She felt alone in a battle that she couldn’t decipher, whether it existed or not. As she looks at the reality right in front of her, she can’t help but accept it. Yet maybe, just maybe, one day people wouldn’t call her crazy as she held on to a glimmer of hope. Maybe one day they'll realize that they shouldn’t be so dependent on such artificial things. 

With that, Raya disappears into the crowd.

In the heart of the city, where the future gleams bright, Neon lights flicker, painting shadows of night. Skies filled with cars in a luminous flight, A symphony of engines, a dazzling sight.

Streaks of red and blue, they dance in the sky, Like modern-day fireflies, they shimmer and fly. Above towering spires of steel and glass, Where dreams of tomorrow and present moments clash.

Yet amidst this marvel, a whisper of sorrow, For the nature we lost, the green we did borrow. Concrete and chrome have taken its place, Leaving no trace of the earth's tender grace.

Rivers of lights where waters once flowed, Gardens replaced by electronic glow. The hum of the engines, the buzz of the streets, Not the quiet whistle of wind through the trees.

Fly high, shining cars, in your radiant race, But let not our roots be entirely erased. For beauty is fleeting if balance is lost, A reminder of nature, at any cost.

In the heart of the city, where the future's alive, May the spirit of nature forever survive. For awe and loss in harmony dwell, In the tale of the future, that time will tell.

Some say futuristic, but we like the word reused. Everything you see has been used by someone and then thrown away as junk. So we see it as our future, the best way to turn our world around. We turned their past into our future. This word future always sounded weird to me. Was it two seconds or two thousand years. It just depends on what you think. Here’s what I do know: the choices that we are making now will affect any time in the future.

Thomas reached the age of 101. He barely had a voice. Mechanical servants fed him breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He lost good balance in his 90s, which led to a life in a wheelchair. Tastes ceased to be amusing. And then, when he thought he lost all he could, his eyes gave out.

With no recourse, he turned to music, and after hearing for 10 years, modern hearing aids did their best, but he was deaf.

All good senses gone, he felt as though he should have died with his knees. And that’s when he found the truth of his life, because as he tried to die, the robots stopped him.

He made his way to the railing of his apartment, but just as he summoned the strength to fling himself over the railing, he felt pain on his limbs as they caught him before he fell.

“I’m sorry Mr. Warner,” said one of the robots. “We are not programmed to let you die.”

They put him back in his wheelchair. He decided to stop eating.

Starvation would be his only way out, but when the robots noticed he ceased eating, they ordered a gastric tube to feed him by force.

“We have been programmed to save life, Mr. Warner,” said the voice that would give him daily food. This kept on for years.

When he tried to leave messages begging for help, they were misunderstood as the morbid humor of an old man. He lived until the age of 132, when he died of a heart attack. The robots tried to bring him back, but no amount of programming restarted his heart.

In the end, the robots buried his body in a nearby cemetery before being decommissioned for parts. They followed their programming straight into the recycling bin.

Long ago the world was destroyed. They say it’s better now than before. I don’t believe one word of that crap. The world is better. Ha. But the world has more technology than before. That has to have made it better. Lies. The technology came with more rules, more and more. Civilization buried in rules and regulations. Only one child, married at 17, dead by 70. Fail to follow everything and you’re shipped off, those that are shipped off are never seen again. I walked down the dark narrow streets, every now and then a car would fly by above whipping my hair around in a frenzy. The only light for miles being the illuminated signs far above. My birthday was approaching fast soon it would be too late. I would be seventeen and alone. Most of my friends had found partners either out of love or mostly likely a twisted desperation. I sighed then immediately coughed at the thick cigarette smoke above ended my lungs. No matter how long I had lived in this twisted world I could never get used to it. Behind me, the sound a motor. A white van, which in itself was not entirely uncommon. Not everyone could afford a flying car. But…still it was weird enough to warrant my attention. I walked faster the van following I’m my tracks. I was almost certain I was just being paranoid but…It was always better to be safe rather than sorry. But the van sped up to match my pace. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all. I ran as fasts as my legs could carry me. Don’t look back. Don’t slow down. Don’t let them catch up. I turned the corner into an alleyway. One the car could get to. I took big heaving breaths trying to catch my breath. It was no use I had to sit down. I leaned heavily against the wall as I lowered my self to the ground. That’s when they stuck. I heard the thwack of the bat impacting my head before I felt it. I clutched my head, ears wringing. I looked up to find a woman blocking my view. From beside me someone threw a bag over my head. “Don’t worry you’re safe now.” My head was fuzzy but I was pretty sure that hitting someone in the head with a bat and then kidnapping them was not any way to save someone.

A city modernised far beyond the rest of the world. The whole place was lit up by neon lights and flying cars wizzed through the sky. The buildings were twice the height of any other skyscraper you could imagine. Bridges between buildings stretched over the streets. Everything went so fast, car went by in the blink of an eye and the noise was so loud.

No one outside of it knew this city even existed. If people did the world population would be a lot higher.