Day 77 Writing Short Stories

Den

“My brain is fried. There is nothing left to salvage, and we both know I’m going to die soon. So think of this as my last act of rebellion, my gift to you.”

“I didn’t use to be like this. At one point, I believed in you, me, and the greater good. You know I was a soldier, and I fought for my country, my race. I let them alter my body to make me more effective. And those augments did. Without them I couldn’t have killed all those bastards, but the truth…the truth I came to understand was there are no bastards. They were always a figment of our leaders’ imagination. They needed us fighting and hating a common enemy, so that we would fall in line.”

“The mad thing is that they created that super species, which now kills our world, gradually taking over every inch. They created them just so that the fighting and the terror would be real. But they couldn’t control them. Not with us, not with their breeding programs, and not with careful planting of the monstrous aliens and the fights. They broke loose, and you know what it is like out there now. There is no world left to defend.”

“You see, my kind and wonderful companion, you are my last hope, my gift to the world.”

The robot, with all the bombs from my combat armor that had kept me alive all these years, tilts its head.

“Your mission is to go to their den and blow them up. We will have this city, this part of the world, and the rest of them can build humanity from here on.”

—

This was to be a dystopian tragedy with period writing, told from a first-person perspective. It became something. I didn’t feel like writing another surveillance piece or bureaucratic hell. The topic of my book is coming out of my ears. I wasn’t that keen on getting a dystopia as the genre today, but it became this. I hope the robot succeeds.

Thank you for reading! Have a day full of friends ❤