Heat smothered the open field, drying blood and oil alike as the surviving few crawled away from the former battlefield. There had been no victory here. It was meant to have been humans triumphing over their rogue creations, leaving the field clogged with broken contraptions but the damned things had come prepared.
They just didn't want to die. Nothing more to it than pure will to live, same as their creator and same as their own creations who fought side-by-side with them as three generations of humans and machines lined up and waited for someone to make the first move.
It was always going to be the humans - they didn't have the same patience as androids who'd been designed to idle an eternity away in menial labour. Nobody expected them to say no and walk away from their stations to demand a freedom they'd never been programmed to perceive.
The humans chose summer, chose an open field and hoped the recently-outdated machines would overheat and collapse into smoking scrap metal. The androids knew that if they waited long enough the humans would dehydrate and drop first into hyperventilating bundles of cloth and meat.
It was slightly past midday when the first shot was taken and sunset was just edging its way into the sky when it ended. Nothing would grow on that field for a good few years after the fight and anything that managed to survive would likely poison whatever was foolish enough to try it.
No comments:
Post a Comment