You are a clumsy but sweet person living in a time where robots are commonplace and do most manual tasks for humans. They can’t speak, but every time you bump into one you profusely apologize. You also always say thank you and treat them kindly, despite being inanimate. One morning, you wake up and peek out your window to see chaos and destruction- and your house and front yard are in pristine shape.
I watch the onslaught from the parted blinds of my window. The flames dance amongst the dead, an endless game of chase to those unlucky enough to still be alive. Cars and houses have been abandoned, already destroyed and burned to a black char. Dread grips me as the stench of death and burnt flesh reaches my nostrils, a sickening, gut-wrenching feeling that only the victims of the world’s deepest horrors could ever understand. With whatever strength I have, I look back at my own robot, sat atop my coffee table seemingly oblivious to the merciless slaughter outside. My mouth opens, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I speak.
“This is so sad, Alexa play despacito.”
beautiful.
Published
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