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.