The Machine
Milo
We’re almost there! A new land, a new start. It’ll be perfect Milo, a new life, where we are free to do as we please. Milo scraped the damp stones with his shoe, scowling at the mold growing in orderly rows between the gaps. The light was dim, but in reality, it was nonexistent. Mr. Nemitz rambled on about Old Town, and how the new city would be even better.
“--and it was bright and yellow and gold, with leaves shaking in the sunlight…” Mr. Nemitz sang with joy. Milo turned away to hide his wide grin, as more and more people joined along in the anthem. Old people loved singing “Where the Sun Once Shone.” He supposed it had a different tone if you had actually seen the sun outside of a book or a video. Or seen a book outside of a video. Mr. Nemitz had been humming the song to himself for the better part of an hour.
“Someone’s having a great day,” said Milo, stopping himself from hinting how funny he actually found it. The masses of weary people were pushing in from all sides, anticipating the imminent arrival. Mr. Nemitz slung an arm around his shoulder, and shook him briefly, laughing with glee.
“We’ve made it out, Milo. We’re there!”
“We’re still here,” Milo said. “We’re not even on the platform yet.” Mr. Nemitz scratched his ear.
“True, but soon we’ll be all the way up there,” he pointed at the upper deck, awfully high and seemingly empty. The ramp they were climbing led to the middle deck, the very center of the boat’s imposing hull. “We’ll be eaten by this monster and shat out in Eden.”
Monster was too pleasing a word for it, Milo thought. The boat was even uglier from up close. You could see it from almost anywhere; it was taller than every building in the Old Town. News of it had arrived mo...
... middle of paper ...
... people.
It hit him like a strong punch to the chest.
The Machine poured the last vestiges of power into him. His mind suddenly opened up, freeing him from all bonds, both from the system and from the kids. The power pulsed outward around him, looking for somewhere to go.
Milo landed on his feet in the midst of the losing battle. He focused on the battle, and rammed his fists into the ground. The power from The Machine surged outwards, making contact with every person, and every prisoner.
They were his to command, and he was theirs to command.
The battle was over.
Luna fell to the ground, light from The Machine warm against her withering form. She felt herself separate into her distinct parts. These were her arms, her legs, her organs. Her molecules buzzed, then ceased to exist. She melted into the light, into the peace of The Machine, and it ended.
from under his feet,he starts to think of alternative ways in which he can be saved from
“Not happening!” Thomas screamed back, pointing the Transportalponder into the air and pulling its trigger. Instead of the swirling vortex of blue energy he was used to, though, tendrils of crackling electricity shot down his arm. They didn’t hurt him, even as they enveloped the rest of his body. “Oh boy,” he muttered, moments before he felt himself get pulled apart.
“Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right, north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west, then paused, and, after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south-west, south, south-east, east.” Unexpectedly, his feelings, that he so frantically needed to clutch, wound up being the death of him yet that is what being a human is about.
volunteers undressed the dude thru him out of the train, like a sack of flour. He woke up from his apathy
car was old and coming to its end the engine grumbled as it came to a
Friday Evening Alaric occupies a familiar stool at the Grill; a sulky, raven-haired vampire beside him, filling him in on recent developments. “So apparently this Elijah asshole is one of the originals, and Klaus is the original, original.” “So, old then. And apparently hard to deal with.” “Right. Too hard,” Damon gestures with his drink, nearly sloshing amber liquid onto the bar top. “And Katherine says Klaus needs Elena because she’s from the ‘Petrova’ line?” “Because she’s The Petrova Döpleganger. Whatever the hell that means.” “Ok, there’s something I don’t get here though. Rose, I kind of understand giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’s done nothing to indicate duplicity here. But Katherine? Why should we believe anything she says?” “It jives with what Rose knows, and explains why she was so keen on getting to Elena in the first place.
It was another boring day at the medical center. I was just inside cleaning the room to get ready to go home. As I’m locking the door to the operating room, a man comes and knocks on the window and asks if I can have a look at his dog. I unlocked the door and let the patient in. The man that has come into the room, came because his dog was severely ill. The dog had a fever of 37o and looked as dead as a zombie. As I was listening to his heart beat with a stethoscope, the dog bit my arm and made me bleed. I quickly retrieved and held my hand as it was bleeding and looked at the owner. I asked the owner, “How long has your dog been acting like this for?” the owner replied “He has been acting like this for about a week now.” Well unfortunately
“ you can't go looking for him Elena we told you about this Klaus thinks you're dead and we'd like to keep it that way ” Tyler said as we were all at the Salvatore house trying to get everything ready for the party tonight.
“Please don’t go Dad.” Ell said with tears forming at the corners of her eyes, “Please don’t”. “I’ll always be here honey, never stop trying” Ell’s father said with his last breath. The room fell silent, then the heart rate monitor let out a single droning beep. Ell’s father had gone still, and now with tears rolling down her cheeks, Ell hugged her father, “I’ll make sure of it Dad”.
It’s going to be lots of fun with cakes, lovely, colorful cupcakes, presents big and small, and balloons in all shapes and sizes.
“May your journey in the darkness bring you to the light,” the short one said.
With both hands resting lightly on the table to each side of his white foam cup, Otis stared into its deep abyss of emptiness with his head bowed as if willing it to fill again, giving him a reason to enjoy the shelter that the indoors provided. I could almost touch the conflict going on inside of him, a battle of wills as if he was negotiating with an imaginary devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I sensed a cramp of discomfort seizing his insides, compelling him to flee, then a silent resolve, as if a moment of clarity had graced his consciousness.
machine disappears in a small gust. He claims that the machine is now gliding forward
is best represented in the novel by Mali through the industry of story-writing machine which he wants to set up in Malgudi. This machine, as a symbol, evokes two major modernist values – mechanization of an area of activity which requires to remain human and a frenzied effort for material prosperity. Jagan refuses to promote the project, quite against the expectation of his son. Jagan's refusal is based partly on ethical and ideological reasons and party on the sheer absurdity of it. This aggravates the already existing distance and differences between Jagan and his son, representing traditional and modern values respectively. But it may be right to presume that even if Jagan had agreed to finance Mali’s stupid project, the sea of distance
From far away, elevated buildings are shining and competing each other who can be the brightest. Ironically, doomed and unoccupied lands take the most of the scene, which sets up the division on this earthly land. The shimmering lights are gathering as they form a trail of lines. It looks like the civil war had also begun on this landscape. As these l...