There’s only a handful of us left now. It was easy in the beginning;
all we had to do was nod and smile, as everyone we knew babbled happily and
incessantly about this thing they’d found, this great idea, this awesome
machine that would provide the answer to everything
They’d wait for us to contribute our insights, and then confusion and
disappointment would set in when, backed into a corner, we’d finally had to admit we had no clue, not even what it was called
Sometimes there was sympathy, but as the factories roared to life,
there was more and more resentment, guarded talk about «not pulling our weight»
until finally we were openly treated like morons, not fit to perform even
menial tasks for the «Cause»
When it became obvious (to them, at least) that the construction required human
sacrifice, then we were fair game at last
Some of us escaped the camps, living in ditches and begging where we could.
Unable to bluff any further, we could at least recognise each other and join
up, whilst the rest of the world went to hell in a handbasket
So now its dark. The house I’m in with four others has no water or electricity,
but we should be safe for the moment. I don’t think the patrols come out this
far. But I keep wondering to myself … what will happen when they’re done?
I asked my wife once, near the beginning -- «What does it do? What’s it for?»
All she did was look at me, and I never got an answer. I don’t think they know.
The whole world is building this thing, and I don’t think they have the first
clue. God help us all