Aftermath of a Holy War
I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure that there are now more machines than humans.
At least that’s the way it feels. In the last ten days, I have seen four trash bots, three sentry units, seven artificial maids, and an old news camera bot with a broken lens.
I’ve only seen only one other person; an old man lying in a gutter. I gave him some of my candy bars and stale soup. He told me about his first job at a convenience store. Apparently it was a place where you could get food and drinks. They never ran out, because the people who ran it would always keep it stocked. I told him it sounded nice, and that he and I should go about making one. He laughed at that, and let me sleep in his alley with him. The buildings on either side of it blocked out the cold wind, and it was nice to have company. He was dead by morning.
I haven’t seen as many demons or angels lately. My father used to say that he’d see them all the time as a kid. They’d be standing on rooftops, giving grand speeches to any and all who would listen; shouting and raving about good and evil, the virtues of God, the pleasures of Hell, the shackles of faith, and the tyranny of freedom. Most people didn’t pay much attention after awhile. They just thought it was cute.
No one thought it was cute, when God dropped his bombs; when cities where levelled, towns flooded, and…
