Blocked Out the Sky

It’s a humbling experience to know–without a doubt–that the thing you’ve been dreading your entire life is actually possible. Staring with naked eyes right at the undeniable truth has a way of bringing one to their knees.

The trumpet sound blared again, unmistakeable in  its intent. This was not a way to communicate... it was too universal, too primitive... ancient compared to the vast sight of metal and lights, sequenced like nothing natural. The sound was a threat... or maybe a taunt. Designed to intimidate and frighten any who heard it.

I stood there with my heart breaking, my mouth still agape at the immensity of what I was experiencing. There was no hope... there’s no way we could fight against this. Machines filled the sky and everything between them and the soil was in limbo, just waiting for what the machines would do to it. It’s not even fear at that point, or maybe there are veins of fear running through it... but the feeling is dread. The dull ache of hopelessness ripping strips off my soul like hangnails.

But in amidst all the dread and panic and hopelessness was a spark of denial. Maybe that’s what makes us human in the first place: this ridiculous tendency to convince ourselves to just try anyway... to go down swinging, or maybe just distract ourselves from the descent into madness by giving ourselves the straightforward task of doing whatever we can to survive just a little bit longer.

As those thoughts crossed my mind, I witnessed the first great red laser sweep from the belly of one of the machines. It was wide — two or three blocks wide — but thin like a curtain or thin red sheet with the sun behind it. It swept at a queasily steady rate, geometrically perfect movement that steadily evaporated everything and anything that it passed over. It left behind nothing but earth, and even that was a trench over 500 feet deep.

It was inescapable. I thought of my wife, and hoped to the universe itself that she was safe somewhere and that I’d be able to reach her somehow. I looked down and my son’s face was buried in my jacket, his hands clinging to my sides, pulling the fabric hard around his face. Seeing him snapped me aware, gave the moment meaning and for the first time I forgot everything and became singularly focussed on what had to happen next. I got down on one knee while jerking him away from my body and put my face directly in front of his while grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Buddy. It’s ok. You have to stay close to me, we have to find somewhere safe.” I looked in his terrified eyes... mine were desperate and pleading, marinated in bravado. We needed to survive.