Broken Clocks

A descriptive piece set in a post-apocalyptic world created by science fiction.

Footsteps echo harshly; breaths fog up the shiny surfaces; reflections distort until they become twisted versions of themselves.

Silver eyes flash with terror.

Cables entwine together, forming vine-like structures, sparking with bright electricity. White smoke wafts in coils, like a snake preparing to spring. It drifts upwards, obscuring the vision of the upper levels of the lying, superficial company buildings.

The jagged point is in sight, surrounded by several people. Only, they aren't people - they are monsters. Press the button and they all fall down. Like ring-a-rose's, only they wouldn't get back up; these monsters hated what was permanent. The doors slide open smoothly, with a light ring of metal upon metal that was the only detection of entrance.

Soft whirring sounds in the air - the Galeans become tangled in white hair, tugging desperately. Little winged boxes, flashing, always flashing, sending out messages. Pale hands whisk around them, removing the nuisances. Here, in the front room, the footsteps are silent and calculating, although the solid, plasma-padded floor didn't impede any movement. Well, except when trying to avoid the acid-jettison release capsules embedded in the granite flooring. Grace is what is needed.

The glass walls show nothing of joy - crumbling bridges, pulled under by weight; lopsided towers, creating shapes that could barely be seen across the dimly-lit sky. Flickering lights, whizzing and buzzing, flying crookedly; their senses hindered by the lack of technological radiation. The closest Radaitheora Eadrom Tower was too far away. They were clinging to scraps of energy, floating, struggling.

The destruction of the world was stopped only by the glowing silver walls. A silver dome, shining, stretching to the ends of the city. It touched the earth, stopped the havoc. It contained the chaos; we mustn’t destroy the world, they said. The world was so peaceful, unharmed, they said. Watch as another building is taken, falling in slow motion. It crushes another like dominoes - what happens in one place always affects another.

There is a crack in the glass - it has begun. They will fall soon. Their fault. They started it. They didn't know the virus destroyed - they only thought it created. Those monsters released it into the world - technology couldn't save the city, it was too contaminated. Buildings are graves, now, so many people gone, their lives taken so suddenly. They were unsuspecting, innocent.

Remove the jagged point - that is the final goal. Tell the secret. They can't hide any longer - the rest of the world must know about the virus. They can fix it. They have to. They're our last chance.

Finally, a scanner, flowing over a face like a waterfall. You can change your eyes to get through - machines can always be tricked with a little help. All you need is the Marlait Suil, the eye changer. Then, a little prick - the needle paralyses you if you are contaminated. Take several uncertain steps forward - slow, heavy steps.

 Turn a corner, and see the Edalian's standing stock still beside a pair of onyx doors. The Edalian’s are silent and lethal. Pull a box out of your pocket quickly and flick the switch. The switch sends a shock, but it renders you camouflaged. You can walk through the onyx doors easily, with no trouble. The corridors seem endless, but there is, at last, a door of dull silver.

You click a number. Loud noises, everywhere. Hands clench over ears, clutching to rid yourself of the blinding pain; the cacophony leaks through the gaps, thudding - overload of your senses, overload. They have heard, and they are coming. You must go.

There is a corner. A bright corner, edges meeting sharply. There is nowhere else to run. Machines pointing, attached - melded - to flesh; they threaten you and tell you to surrender. You realize that it is time. Waves, buzzing, fizzing. Twitch and the thudding slows. The bright room spins, and you know the city is doomed. Silver walls cannot protect them forever.

Watch in pain as the triggers move. A lone tear falls - you are the last of the species, the only one who can save them all. The only one who can return the world to normality, and they want to destroy you for it. Intruder, they call you, monster. In a whisper, you reply that they are the monsters. That they have ruined everything. You close your eyes, count to three, and take a deep breath. Finally, it is over.

The pain is like fire, burning through your veins, but as cold as ice, freezing you in place. The poison makes its way to your heart, where the thudding slows to a stop. The shell of you falls into the corner.

The monsters look down on you with ice cold stares. They have destroyed the last human being on earth.

The End

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