It's just another horrible day. The machines look at us. They mock us. They beat us. We're lower than bugs to them. It's just another horrible day, except for one difference. Today, I'm getting out of here.
I've been planning this for a while. A few of us have, actually. Every day, we watch the cogs patrol the camp. We watch their exact patterns. That's the thing about machines; they're programmed. That may be our only advantage. We'll probably lose some people during the breakout, but we can afford to lose a few. I hate to think like that, but do I really have a choice? The world has gone to hell. Zordon has been dead since 1998. It's hard to stay positive about things.
I'm not the only one who feels this way, though. Skull lost his wife to the machines, so he and Spike aren't as funny as they once were. Bulk feels the same way, since he's an old family friend. Seeing as she and I used to serve as rangers together, I was hurt when they killed her, too.
Quite a few rangers have been killed, while others have gone underground. I haven't seen any rangers in years. After all, I'm the only one at this camp. When I'm out of here, I'm hoping to find some other rangers to help me reclaim the planet. It's our only hope.
