The Machine’s Heart Pt. 2

The Machine Mind had effectively crushed almost all hope of a human rebellion in moments, it wiped out the most powerful countries in the world in a matter of hours, hacking into the encoded secure computers at their command and turning their massively destructive weaponry against themselves, simultaneously obliterating entire military forces, cities, civilians, politicians, everything, all across the globe. One of the Generals of the old country, the United States, had seen this approach the Machine Mind used….they called it ‘Scorched Earth’. That General is probably long dead by now. The United States, Russia, China, England, France, all wiped from the map before they could even fight back. This was the power of the Machine Mind, all the world powers, the United Nations, the ones every country looked to for protection, were already completely crippled, battered, beaten and thrown to the side, by this cold, mechanical, remorseless enemy. The Machine Mind had taken over factories all over the world, using mechanical arms, simple contraptions built by Man to make our lives more convenient, to create Machine Men, to build more weaponry, to search for the last vestiges of a dying race, its goal was not to subjugate humanity, nor to cow us into submission. It was a simple mission. Complete Eradication. It began its search for the few bunkers left, spread wide across the world, deep under the ocean…I heard that the Russians had actually managed to launch an orbital bunker, thousands of people, in orbit, floating through the stars. With no means to contact each other, we had no way to know how many were left, but so effective was the Machine Mind’s initial assault, there could not be many. We were, like them, alone now, a few hundred humans, alone against an enemy with the power of the entire planet, hiding from the light in a tiny hole, scared. Without leadership, this bunker would probably have fallen to its own dark humanity. There was a man, a military man who could command even the most feral criminal into submission with his voice alone, who calmed the masses, controlled them like a dictator. But it was better than killing each other, the Machines did that well enough on their own. This is the story, of Humanity, of its fight for survival, of the bunker, named by its own people, Helltown.



I am haunted by this memory,  a dream of a child, lively, innocent, friendly, kind, beloved.   I am not this boy, but I knew him.  I am haunted by this memory that reminds me what I am not.  In the end, I am just a weak, conniving, scheming, scoundrel who can do no more than plan, work for, enact betrayal most deep to destroy this innocence, this naivete at the world.  To show a child the real world for the first time is a despicable act, contemptible by even the roughest of scum in prisons, and to force this on that innocent child is a deplorable dream of a mad mind that has long past without sleep, without knowing the touch, the laughter, the love of another.  The only one who smiles at this raving lunatic is this memory, this fevered imagination that he should not be the only miscreant, drove him to this, to create this new man, broken, hollow, raving, alone.  I am haunted by this memory, of childhood, of innocence, of blood-free hands.