Creative Writing: The Machine

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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...

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... 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.
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