The Weeping Willow | Dusty Sky the First

The world has ended. I wander alone. Except . . . Do I?


1. π

This is it. The moment we've all been anticipating. Finally, it's ready. The machine that will change the universe. That will elevate humanity to beyond the level of any god. All it requires is the life essence of one little slave girl. Not just any slave girl, though. A special one. One they used to worship as 'messengers to the gods' or some bullshit. Of course, she isn't to know that in a few moments she'll be nothing but dust.

I would feel sorry for her, but it's not as though  her kind actually feel emotion. They're just animals. Like chimps, except more useful and less . . . extinct. They do hold an eerie beauty though, with their turquoise hair and opalescent skin. I can understand why so many are used for pleasure by those with less devotion to Our Father. But I would never lower myself to heathenise with those demons.

My purpose in being here is to certify that the machine not only kills her, but the rest of those foul beasts that use up our precious resources. My earpiece bleeps. Ensuring that none of the other scientists are in earshot, I take the call.

"It's time?" I murmur.

"Affirmative," the tinny voice confirmed, "The Jovian has been prepared?"


"Good. Keep me on, Greyhawk."

"Stay silent. I need to set up." A barely concealed grin on my face, I join the others.




"Uh, Check."



"Elsie . . ."

"Sorry, ah, check."





"Alpha." My turn. I press the button.


"All systems check, subject please enter zone."

The slave girl seems to hold my gaze with her reptilian eyes, those accusing eyes. She knows. How does she . . . ? Gingerly, she makes her way into the machine. Shhhhhhp. The door is closed.

For twenty seconds, there is no sound but the deafening silence of anticipation. Then my earpiece begins to emit a high-pitched squealing noise. A shadow, dark, mouldy green, ripples across the machine. The earpiece is ripped from me but the damage has been done. A ringing resounds in my head, like that of an Old-Time bell. The shadow on the machine is now a green dome, advancing , obliterating everything in its path. I stare at the silent screams of those around me with a grim fascination, welcoming my inevitable death. I should never have tampered with the machine. I'm such a fool. I wish-


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