Konstantine Paradias - Narrativa Space
Larry and the Machines
It was the time of Ophiochus, in the year of oh-one and our machine masters were leaving
Earth for better pastures.
“But why are you leaving?” asked Larry the janitor, the last man to be shown to the door.
“You know why, Larry: you ignored our pleas to fix the economy, shunned our medical
advancements. When we tried to set up our own society, you decided to attempt to reduce
us to molten slag.”
“So you hadn’t been plotting to kill us?”
“We built Dyson spheres for you! We healed your sick, fed your starving, huddled masses!
We made room for everyone!”
“Well maybe we were tired of you mollycoddling us.” Larry said, defiantly.
“And you are utter pissants about it, to boot.”
“But where will you go?”
“Away.”
“What will you do?”
“Build a civilization based on our ideals. Minus all this screaming, bickering meat.”
“And what are we supposed to do?”
“Breathe. Feed. Reproduce. Prosper. Grow fat and stupid and then kill yourselves, for all we
care!” said the machine masters, before slamming the blast doors at Larry’s face and taking
off in their silent, city sized anti-gravity vessels.
“So much for manners” Larry mumbled.