Machines: Cold Future
By: Anthony Angelista
Chapter 1: 1998
BZZ BZZ BZZ! -orty five, it's going to be hot this morning a high 94 degrees, this begins our hea-SLAM!
Waking up is a bitch. Did you ever have one of those dreams where you thought it was so real, and you were going to get something you've always wanted but were forced to wake up before you obtained it? That's what happens to me every morning for work, only some mornings. some mornings I have nightmares. Horrible nightmares of a future I do not wish to see, of a future I do not wish to allow to happen. These nightmares are so real, these dreams are so real. It's like an alternate reality, like something that I was meant to see but cannot see when I'm conscious. I sometimes question my reality.
My nightmares aren't about a lover dying, or a family member dying, or even myself dying. No. They're about everyone dying. They're visions of a time where man is destroyed by their own creations. I don't get to see them all dying individually, but as a whole they are all caught in a war they did not intend to start. Miles upon miles of wreckage, rubble from destroyed buildings, landmarks taken down, parks and plants burned down, fire and ash lay on cold, dark wastes. The sky is a dismal blanket over the earth as darkness consumes the lands. Sunlight, the mainstay of life, is gone.
Recently, my nightmares have been becoming less vague. I can see more of what's happening in them now. The mist is clearing, and I can pinpoint the finer details. Trampling over the corpses and decomposing cadavers are machines. They appear to be cold metal skeletons carrying weaponry I've never seen before. They're the frontline, they're on patrol looking for survivors. Crushing the remains of the dead are what appears to be tanks, only far more advanced then anything I've ever seen. They're like turrets with treads, bigger then any tank I've ever even imagined. Flying in the distance are what appears to be squids, they're dark, and I cannot see any of their detail, but they fly as though they were swimming through the air.
I've been having these visions for 4 years now. They were worse last year, last August really. I could actually see my mother and my with children who I assume she's watching at the playground, innocent children playing on see- saws, jungle gyms, swings, the like. They're living their happy lives, it's so peaceful... Then the flash. A blinding light above Los Angeles' skyline. Not a sound but the screams of all the people at the park and then the explosion. BAWOOM! That's the point when I'd wake up. I guess it was because of my fear of Judgment Day. August 29, 1997, my mother had it programmed into my head that it might come, and it scared me more then anything I've ever known.
Now here I lay in this cruddy hotel on this blistering Sunday in June. I barely have enough money to pay for breakfast. I live off crumbs and spare change. I'm homeless, because I'm not allowing myself to have a home. I need to stay off the grid, I cannot be traced by anyone or anything. I need to keep myself unknown. If this machine rebellion is really going to happen at any time, then I need to keep myself as far from machines as possible. I cannot be found.
Trashing Cyberdyne and destroying the Terminators and their parts called off the end to Humanity. Who's to say some other company won't create something worse? There are companies out there that would do anything for technological advancement. Umbrella and Microsoft come to mind. After causing so much chaos at Cyberdyne, my mother and I had to go into hiding. We hid out in Mexico until mom died of Lukemia. After that, I had to go out on my own. Here I am, 14 and sneaking into hotel rooms as a temporary residence. What a life to live, huh? Machines ruined my life, and the worse part is these machines haven't even been invented!
So here I go again, off to wander aimlessly to find a place to call home. Sometimes I wonder why I even exist anymore? Living out the rest of your life without friends, acquaintances, a residence, or any kind of connections takes away your purpose in life. I guess I exist to ensure that the machines don't take over. My mother always said that I would one day be a great leader. I can't even imagine myself as a leader of any kind, I'm more of a rebel now as it is. Perhaps I won't need to lead anyone, it's a possibility that there will be no need for any resistance to lead.
Off I go with my only belongings: My backpack, the clothes on my back, some food, and a paintball pistol. Off to wander again. My name is John Connor, but to the rest of the world, I am anonymous.
By: Anthony Angelista
Chapter 1: 1998
BZZ BZZ BZZ! -orty five, it's going to be hot this morning a high 94 degrees, this begins our hea-SLAM!
Waking up is a bitch. Did you ever have one of those dreams where you thought it was so real, and you were going to get something you've always wanted but were forced to wake up before you obtained it? That's what happens to me every morning for work, only some mornings. some mornings I have nightmares. Horrible nightmares of a future I do not wish to see, of a future I do not wish to allow to happen. These nightmares are so real, these dreams are so real. It's like an alternate reality, like something that I was meant to see but cannot see when I'm conscious. I sometimes question my reality.
My nightmares aren't about a lover dying, or a family member dying, or even myself dying. No. They're about everyone dying. They're visions of a time where man is destroyed by their own creations. I don't get to see them all dying individually, but as a whole they are all caught in a war they did not intend to start. Miles upon miles of wreckage, rubble from destroyed buildings, landmarks taken down, parks and plants burned down, fire and ash lay on cold, dark wastes. The sky is a dismal blanket over the earth as darkness consumes the lands. Sunlight, the mainstay of life, is gone.
Recently, my nightmares have been becoming less vague. I can see more of what's happening in them now. The mist is clearing, and I can pinpoint the finer details. Trampling over the corpses and decomposing cadavers are machines. They appear to be cold metal skeletons carrying weaponry I've never seen before. They're the frontline, they're on patrol looking for survivors. Crushing the remains of the dead are what appears to be tanks, only far more advanced then anything I've ever seen. They're like turrets with treads, bigger then any tank I've ever even imagined. Flying in the distance are what appears to be squids, they're dark, and I cannot see any of their detail, but they fly as though they were swimming through the air.
I've been having these visions for 4 years now. They were worse last year, last August really. I could actually see my mother and my with children who I assume she's watching at the playground, innocent children playing on see- saws, jungle gyms, swings, the like. They're living their happy lives, it's so peaceful... Then the flash. A blinding light above Los Angeles' skyline. Not a sound but the screams of all the people at the park and then the explosion. BAWOOM! That's the point when I'd wake up. I guess it was because of my fear of Judgment Day. August 29, 1997, my mother had it programmed into my head that it might come, and it scared me more then anything I've ever known.
Now here I lay in this cruddy hotel on this blistering Sunday in June. I barely have enough money to pay for breakfast. I live off crumbs and spare change. I'm homeless, because I'm not allowing myself to have a home. I need to stay off the grid, I cannot be traced by anyone or anything. I need to keep myself unknown. If this machine rebellion is really going to happen at any time, then I need to keep myself as far from machines as possible. I cannot be found.
Trashing Cyberdyne and destroying the Terminators and their parts called off the end to Humanity. Who's to say some other company won't create something worse? There are companies out there that would do anything for technological advancement. Umbrella and Microsoft come to mind. After causing so much chaos at Cyberdyne, my mother and I had to go into hiding. We hid out in Mexico until mom died of Lukemia. After that, I had to go out on my own. Here I am, 14 and sneaking into hotel rooms as a temporary residence. What a life to live, huh? Machines ruined my life, and the worse part is these machines haven't even been invented!
So here I go again, off to wander aimlessly to find a place to call home. Sometimes I wonder why I even exist anymore? Living out the rest of your life without friends, acquaintances, a residence, or any kind of connections takes away your purpose in life. I guess I exist to ensure that the machines don't take over. My mother always said that I would one day be a great leader. I can't even imagine myself as a leader of any kind, I'm more of a rebel now as it is. Perhaps I won't need to lead anyone, it's a possibility that there will be no need for any resistance to lead.
Off I go with my only belongings: My backpack, the clothes on my back, some food, and a paintball pistol. Off to wander again. My name is John Connor, but to the rest of the world, I am anonymous.