Komm,
Süßer Tod By Aaban
A
slam
EARTH - 3412 - LOG 1
Humans.The most advanced life form on Earth. For over 200,000 years,
Homo-sapiens have questioned and learned about the world around
them. Once they gathered what little information they could grasp, they
extended their reach to the stars. They left their home in millions of
metal machines, leaving their home stripped of its resources. It became
a barren wasteland. Only the rich were able to leave. They never came
back. Society collapsed. Earth is in the middle of a seemingly endless
Nuclear Winter. I am one of the few survivors. If you’re reading this,
which no one will, I am dead. My name is Rivilend Newmaker, by the way.
This information isn’t of any use to y ou, I presume. I wonder why I’m
writing this in the first place.
Before “The Great Evacuation” in 3387, I was just another citizen of a
vast city, along with 100,000,000 others. As technology advanced,
people thought that everyone leaving for space was inevitable. After all,
the Earth had only so much to give while the entire Universe had so
much to offer. After all that…
Earth had become rid of all life.
I was one of the only people there.
In those streets I was the only beating heart, the only being of warm
blood and flesh. The walls around me were doubtless home to many in
the fairly recent past, yet now it was an unfamiliar maze to all. The light
fell on the words that spoke to nobody, unaware that their audience had
vanished, or that the streets lay silent beneath no boots at all, except
mine. It was as if some sort of God had stopped time, removed all the
distractions so He could see it for real, see how it really was, w
hat it
really was. And in that moment all I wished for was another beating heart
in this deserted city, another being of warm blood and flesh, one more
pair of boots to walk next to mine.
The city is as it was before, just devoid of the warmth that made it
worthy of that term. It is a collection of buildings, roads laid like a carpet
for a queen that will never come. Banners hang with slogans to be read
only by the dust-laden wind. The market is all set up like it awaits the
stall holders at any moment. The only sound is the crow that cries as if it
can bring back the people who left tasty scraps if only it calls loud
enough. Against the wall of the old courthouse is a bicycle, the chain
dangling on the sidewalk. Ahead is the clock tower, forever stuck at half
past noon. If I stand still enough perhaps time is indeed frozen, perhaps
is just my bones that don't realize it.
The buildings stand in defiance of the people who fell. They are no
vulnerable flesh but concrete and steel, not as timeless as the
mountains that ring the city but able to outlast the civilization that
created them by centuries. Given enough time even the smooth grey will
give way to a jungle of green and this “ancient” civilization will lay ruined
for future generations to discover and perhaps piece together how we
lived. I wonder if they'll know how we, with all our labour saving devices
could barely glean six hours sleep, and even when the opportunity to rest
came our stress levels kept us unwillingly awake. But for now all I can do
is walk ant-like between the monoliths, grey at my feet, grey at every
side, under a carpet of grey that promises nothing but a storm.
In the fog, the city is blurred like an old painting; it could be a great work
drawn by an expert hand. The buildings and the cherry trees are
silhouetted black, two-dimensional. The streets yawn in every direction
with only old newspaper dispensers and street-lamps to break the view
between buildings so high that the tops disappear in the swirling white. It
doesn't smell right at all, in fact it smells of nothing but the damp trees
not yet in bloom. Without the fumes of the traffic its odour is as fresh as
any meadow without tincture of grass. My footsteps echoed like stones
off a cave wall. I wanted to melt into the darkness but what was the
point? This place had been abandoned long ago, other than the odd
roosting birds, she had the only beating heart in many square miles of
concrete. All I could do is keep going.
I managed to find a building which wasn’t crumbling or burning to the
ground, and decided to set up camp there. My legs felt as if they were
going to fall off. I decided to lay down. I looked around me, and saw
words written on the wall. I wasn’t sure what language it was, but it
looked something like this;
人類が最後の呼吸をするとき、神は影から現れ、彼の手を伸ばし、
誰でも何でも助けようとします。
そして、神は孤独が私たちに痛みと悲惨を引き起こすことを知って
いるので.
誰も一人になりません。
誰も恐れることはありません。
誰もが幸せになります。
I decided to sleep on it and come back to it tomorrow.
———————————————————————————————————
EARTH - 3412 - LOG 2
I shouldn’t have ignored that text.
The language was Japanese. When I looked into it, I was able to
decipher this.
“As humanity takes its final breaths, God will emerge from the
shadows, his hand outstretched, willing to help anyone or anything.
Then, God will rebuild humanity in a purified form.
No one will be alone.
No one will be afraid.
No one will feel sad again.”
Another prophecy written confirms this ‘humanity in a purified form’
is called Human Instrumentality. So far every way I’ve looked into
this thing has been a deadend. You’d assume this is some cultist
nonsense. But, a date shows that this was written in 3298. Despite
this, it mentions The Great Evacuation.
Need I remind you, The Great Evacuation was in 3387.
I have no choice but to believe this.
It seems these notes are scattered across the city. If I find enough, I
might be able to work out exactly what is going to happen. I write
out my findings as they’re discovered.
Next entry soon.
———————————————————————————————————
THE FIRST IMPACT
“The First Impact (also known as the "Giant Impact") occurred in
prehistoric times when the Black Moon, a giant spherical object,
collided with the Earth in what is now the Hokkaido region of Japan.
The collision caused an explosion that launched a massive amount
of material from Earth into orbit. This orbiting debris eventually
coalesced into Earth's only moon. The Black Moon is the vessel that
carried Eve, one of the members of the Seeds of Life sent out into
the universe by the First Ancestral Race.”
“However, Eve’s arrival on Earth was an accident. When Eve landed
on Earth, the Seed of Life intended for Earth, Adam, was already on
the planet. Adam had landed in the White Moon in what is now
Antarctica. Having two Seeds of Life on the same planet violated an
ancient rule of the First Ancestral Race. Under that rule, only one
Seed of Life was allowed to populate any one planet at a time.
Lances of Diogenes, which can disable a Seed of life, were sent to
accompany each seed in order to enforce this rule. However, Eve’s
lance was seemingly lost during First Impact. This meant that
Adam had to be placed into suspended animation by its Lance of
Longinus in order to comply with the rule. With Adam incapacitated,
the progeny of Eve, including humans, flourished. This denied the
children of Adam, the Angels, their rightful inheritance: the chance
to populate the Earth.”
“Billions of years later, when humans dominated the Earth, the
public explanation for the cause of First Impact was a huge
meteorite, rather than the Black Moon. Although originally referred
to as "Giant Impact," this event was retroactively dubbed "The First
Impact" after the Second Impact occurred.”
“The Second Impact was a cataclysmic event which occurred in
Antarctica on September 21, 3379. It was caused by an experiment
conducted on Adam by a group of scientists led by Dr Jorge Franco,
and his partner, Ms. Monserrat Rasgado. The experiment
reawakened Adam, generating an explosion that melted the
remaining Antarctic ice caps and shifted the Earth's axis.”
“This was covered up as an asteroid impact. Millions of people’s
homes were destroyed, and it killed over ⅓ of the Earth’s population.
‘A tragic accident’.”
———————————————————————————————————
EARTH - 3412 - LOG 3
I think I’ve made an extraordinary discovery.
You may have noticed that the expedition to the Antarctic was led
by two people, Jorge Franco and Monserrat Rasgado. If that’s the
case, they would have access to classified information the public
didn’t. F
ranco died in The Second Impact, however. Why is this
important? Because…
Monserrat Rasgado is on Earth and is still alive.
She was the only survivor of the team, and it obviously traumatised
her. She had decades of therapy to get her back on her feet. Now
she is, she may be willing to talk about it. If not, I’ll figure something
out.
It says that Monserrat’s currently located in Maine, so I’ll have to
trek north to find her.
And with that, I begin my journey to find out how this empty world is
brimming with opportunity, and what this means for the possible
future.
———————————————————————————————————
THE ANGELS
“Adam’s children, The Angels, have remained dormant due to the
Lance of Longinus cancelling the growth of Adams Seed of Life,
The White Moon. However, Eve was found by scientists after The
Second Impact, and these people, who knew none the wiser, used
the Lance of Longinus in Adam to stop the growth of Eve. This
started the growth of Adam’s children, Angels. Since they could not
inhabit their rightful home, they retreated to Earth, while humans
took a sample of Adam brought it back to their government bases
for safekeeping, while people experimenting accidentally injected
part of Adam’s DNA into Eve. This ultimately created a creature
called ‘Lillith’.
“It is said that if the Angels find this mangled abomination of Adam
and Eve, and make contact with it…”
“The Third Impact will occur, wiping out all of Humanity.”
Diagram of Angel:
Adovaquiel
The 36th Angel
———————————————————————————————————
EARTH - 3413 - LOG 47
I am currently thinking of all the ways that I could possibly die. Also,
a side note, Happy New Year, for me at least.
So, back to thinking of how I could end up a mutilated corpse 6ft
under. I’ve just arrived in Maine after a 4 month trek north here, and
to my disappointment, talking t o Monserrat is not going to be an
option.
Her territory is just outside of a small town called Whittleton Creek.
It’s an abandoned farmyard and I think she’s on the farmhouse at
the moment. I’ve been sitting here for 18 days, waiting for a perfect
opportunity to enter the area.
However, the place is covered head to (figurative) toe in guards,
armed and dangerous with itchy trigger fingers. So I was thinking of
when to go inside whilst thinking of how I could die, as a precaution
to be as careful as possible. If you don’t get it, here’s an analogy to
help.
You’re going to the store to pick up some groceries. However, it’s a
long walk so you take your car. Now, think of how many different,
violent, unique and spectacular ways you could end up in a wooden
box underground. Examples include:
Nausea due to motion sickness causing vomit (choking on your
own vomit: unlikely), suffocation, crashing (in more depth, glass
splinters everywhere making at least - but not limited to - 80 gashes
in your head alone), you slam your throat forward on the top of your
steering wheel (example of suffocation), faulty engine, oil spills
from engine and sets alight causing an explosion (better yet, it sets
on fire, etc.)
I had to use etc because I ran out of examples.
Now, you might question everything you're doing and if you're doing
it right, as if you do something wrong, you’ll die.
Cheery, right?
I’m in that situation, except I can’t u
se etc, because I’ll never run out
of examples. If I do a nything wrong. If I miss the tiniest of details; If
I even breathe too quickly, I am going to die.
…
I am going to die.
From now on, I think these ‘logs’ will be me rambling about random
things, to keep my mind off of my impending doom, so keep that in
mind, random person reading. Just be weary. Don’t take anything I
say very seriously, unless it’s very obvious I’m being serious. So
expect very, very, v ery weird things from now on. To start off:
‘Overlook’ is the opposite of itself.
———————————————————————————————————
A GILDED CAGE
Rivilend made his way up the south perimeter of the farm. From the
outside, he was able to get very limited intel, so he had to use
landmarks in order to navigate: A water tower to the west, a
windmill to the east, and the barn up north. He moved to a stable,
full of hay he could vault over to use as a vantage point. He looked
at the ground: a silenced handgun.
“God forbid I have to use it, but it helps me feel safer. Not safe, but
safer.”
Meanwhile:
“EARTH - 3413 - LOG 48”
“Can’t and the last name of German philosopher, ‘Immanuel Kant’
sound the same.”
Back to reality. A guard with a rifle. About 5 ½ft tall. Pretty fit.
Ginger hair, Scottish accent. Obvious threat: One that needed to be
taken care of, now.
Rivilend crept over to the guard, silent as a mouse. He stood up and
proceeded to wrap his forearm around his neck, subduing him.
“Ckkkckckkckckkckkckckkckkckkkkkkckckk…” His eyelids began to close as
Rivilend set his body to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
five guards, heavily armed, and what he could only assume was
their client that they had to protect sandwiched in the middle of the
moving mosh pit of gunsmen. Heading straight for him.
Rivilends heart began to start rapidly beating faster, the oily sweat
dripping down from his forehead, blinding his fragile eyes and
burning them with a strong mixture of acids. At least, they felt like
acids. At that moment, he couldn’t tell the back of his own hand to
the handgun he was holding. His vision became blurry, his
surroundings melting and overlaying into an abomination of drab
colours and painfully shiny metals. It did not occur to him, that at
this time, of which felt as if it were slowing down, that the guard had
seen the gun on the floor, and would come right at him. Rivilend
Newmaker. A man in a hostile area comparable to a country's
border, a silenced handgun in his trembling hand (which was an
illegal item, by the way), a Fusil G2 assault rifle in front of him, with
the body of a guard right next to him. Only one thing came into his
mind.
One thing.
“Crap.”
He panicked, looking for a box, anything of that type that could hide
a body. He began to drag the body, the guard face down against all
the concrete of the floor, almost vaporising the poor man's nose. He
dumped his body inside a wood chipper (unplugging it to avoid
killing him) and realised he couldn’t hide anywhere. He might have
been able to pull off contorting his body to fit inside the wood
chipper. Only he had 45 seconds to become a professional
contortionist. Then, he had an epiphany.
He put on the guard’s clothes. An elegant solution to the problem.
Not bad, Rivilend, not bad at all. Now, he was allowed to walk
around mostly unharmed by any of the guards. The guard who saw
the gun walked over to Rivilend.
“Excuse me, sir. I think you dropped something.” The guard picked
up the gun and passed it to Rivilend, almost not knowing he was
pointing the barrel of the gun directly towards himself. If Rivilend
wanted, he could have taken this man out to avoid causing
unwanted collateral damage by smashing the gun directly into his
liver, instantaneously subduing him. He instead decided to play the
part. He put on his best Scottish accent, and said:
“A’right! T’anks for that one, mate.” As is painfully obvious, Rivilend
had never met a Scottish person in his life.
The guard ignored this and continued talking. “Can you do a favour
for me?”
Rivilend didn’t like the idea of freelance manual labour. He only had
to provide for himself for the past 25 years, but agreed anyway, as
to not raise suspicion.
“Alright. So I have a package to deliver to the main house, right?
However, I’m not sure that I have the guts to deliver it. The package
is information about the Second Impact, that we intercepted a while
back. But, the storage area we kept it in are focusing their space on
food and other supplies, y’know, cos of the whole post apocalyptic
schtick. Chances are, Ms. Rasgado isn’t going to take nicely to her
past mistakes written out and printed. She’ll probably think that it’s
a sick joke, and have my head for it. That’s where you come in! Just
drop off the package, and I can make it worth your while. You in?”
“I’m in.” Rivilend didn’t bother with an accent this time. He was too
busy biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing. Exactly what
he came for, laid out on his own silver platter!
“Fantastic! And make sure not to open it. Ms. Rasgado notices a
minute crease on a piece of paper. Be careful, okay?”
“Always am.” Rivilend took the package. “Why is it that Ms.
Rasgado needs these files, anyway?”
“Probably cos she wants to make sure that people she’s made allies
with don’t get second thoughts cos of her past. I mean, she’s no
saint; just take a look at what’s going on here. Human trafficking
and slavery, torturing previous government employees, killing
innocent people that pose a tiny threat to her. It’s madness. But, it’s
not even slightly comparable to causing the deaths of ⅓ of the
world, not to mention destroying ½ of it. Anyway, you go along
now.”
“Sure thing.” He turned around made his way through a field of
crops, towards the main house.
Rivilend saw another guard, but there was something off about him.
He was about the same height as Rivilend, and looked the same
age. He wore a dark muddy brown uniform underneath his jet black
jacket, medals of honour and other badges on his left side, with a
dark, forest green military hat. He had pale, almost grey eyes that
seemed lifeless, as static as a broken VHS tape. He stared right at
Rivilend, eventually signalling other men to follow him to where he
was headed, and he was headed straight for Rivilend. He was
confused. Why were they all coming towards him? He was dressed
as a guard, and should have been recognised as such. Rivilend
finally understood.
He wasn’t being recognised as a guard. He was being recognised
as a trespasser, disguised as one. They knew who should and
shouldn’t be here. They saw through this disguise as if it were a
sheet of glass. He had only one option.
Run.
At first, he thought he could stay unnoticed if he just walked at a
casual speed, they might think he’s on patrol and lose interest. That
didn’t work. They weren’t stopping any time soon. He needed a new
plan. And he had one.
Rivilend began to crouch down.
In the tall crops, he would never be found as long as he kept his
distance. The men continued in the direction they last saw him, but
they couldn’t see him even if they tried. Rivilend moved South,
which was the way the wind was blowing. He would never be found
now, because they couldn’t distinguish the wind from his
movement. Stage One of this highly improvised plan was complete.
Now on to stage two.
He had just a few seconds before they figured out what he was
doing and then get back on track and find him. He grabbed the
silenced handgun from his pocket, and pressed on the mag-release
button, dropping the magazine into his hand. Frantically, he placed
3 bullets inside, and reloaded the handgun. His hands trembling, he
aimed out towards the explosives range, and put pressure on the
cold, metal trigger. He fired. But not out into the middle of nowhere.
He fired at a C4 that had been set up on a brick wall.
Immediately, mild combustion turned into an explosion, sending
those in the surrounding areas out of consciousness and leaving
3rd degree burns on their faces. Bricks, dust and other debris flew
out across a parameter of 50m, knocking over or temporarily
blinding those so unfortunate to be in the vicinity. Those who
weren’t guards and just mere workers ran to the nearest sheltered
area, while men with guns ran over to help the wounded and injured.
One of the men less than 2m away from the explosion was sent into
cardiac arrest.
Meanwhile, throughout this chaos and the men who pursued him
turning a blind eye, Rivilend made his way to the house without
making a sound.
———————————————————————————————————
SITUS TRANSVERSUS
Monserrat Rasgado was not having a good day. She had woken up
18 minutes after her alarm went off, and had severe back and neck
pains. Later in the day, one of her pointmen for an upcoming
operation had an injury, and was stuck in a wheelchair. This meant
her raid on the nearby storage area had to be postponed. Then, one
of the people she was interrogating had escaped, due to a rookie
guard turning a blind eye and taking a smoke break. To top it off,
she had the dreaded delivery of a package that had all information
about her work and her past to ‘look forward to’. Obviously, not the
best day. Even for a Militia Tactical Expert.
Since December of the previous year, she’d been having small heart
attacks and other problems with her heart, due to her recent
diagnosis of ‘Situs Transversus’, which is a disorder that makes her
organs mirrored to the normal positions most people have, ‘Situs
Solitus’. She had a right sided heart, and since it is such a rare
disorder, there were no right sided heart donors in the US, so it
would be impossible to have a transplant to replace her old,
withered heart. Now, she was afraid the package would give her a
stroke, and end her life prematurely. After all, she was only in her
early fifties.
The package had been left in the security room of the house, of
which every security personnel had left due to the fear of being
exposed to Monserrat’s fiery rage. She walked over to it, grabbed a
box cutter and opened the package. It would be an understatement
to say she had been pleasantly surprised.
A box of cigarettes and a matchbox. Despite her numerous health
issues, she always enjoyed a smoke once in a while. As she opened
the cigarette box, she saw a note inside.
‘Make no sudden movements. Do not attempt to signal any guards
or other personnel. They are far away from you and me. Turn around
as slowly as possible.’
Monserrat was confused, to say the least. “What in God’s name
does that mean-“
Monserrat stopped dead in her tracks. Out of the darkness of the
room, she saw the shine of a silenced 1911 pistol, and a man, sat in
her favourite rocking chair, wielding it.
“W-who are you?”
“That’s not the right question.”
“W-who’s paying you? I-is it one of those radical tribes who want me
dead? If so, I- I can make you a very rich man.”
“That’s not how it works. Not here. I ask the questions, and you
answer. Or I shoot you right between the eyes. Is that clear?”
“W-wait. A-are you here because of the second impact? You- you
wanna know what happened? Why it happened?”
“I’ve said before, I ask the questions. How can the third impact be
prevented?”
“It can’t! There’s no way to stop it. The Angels are stronger than all
of us. W-we have no defence!”
“The Angels. The children of Adam. Where are they? Still dormant in
Antarctica?”
“I…can’t answer that.”
“It can’t be difficult. Where are they?”
“You- you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
The man‘s grip on the gun tightened. “Either way, it won’t make a
difference.”
Monserrat’s mirrored heart began to pound through her chest. It
was as if a spear with one thousand points had been thrusted at
her. She felt unimaginable pain in her arms.
“T-they, the remains of the Angels, a-are downstairs. In the
basement.”
“See? That wasn’t that hard.”
“Now what? You go downstairs, see them. Then? You come back up
and kill me? So I deserve to die because I made some stupid
mistake?”
“This wasn’t a slip up. Everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve
worked towards. It leads to this. Pain. Suffering. You have no idea
of the scope of what you’ve done.”
“Please…” Monserrat fell to the ground. She felt the spear stabbing
with more force. “I want to fix this.”
“...” The man said nothing.
“Please. Just say something! Tell me what I can do. You want my
money? My house? My army? Take it! Please. I…”
The man said nothing.
The spear pierced deeper, where it hurt. She couldn’t feel anything.
She wanted this to be over. She just wanted to live.
“I don’t want to die. I. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die… I-”
She felt the spear stop. She felt everything stop. The man was 4
feet away, but he seemed miles away. Her fingertips looked as if
they spread out forever, her hands seemed to sprout new fingers.
She couldn’t see. She lay back, clutching her right sided heart. Her
hand was the first to stop moving.
Eventually, she moved no more.
Rivilend stood up from the chair, and took the key to the basement.
Now more than ever, he wanted to stop moving because of what he
had done.
———————————————————————————————————
EARTH - 3413 - LOG 49
The elevator has been descending for eight minutes.
Normally, I wouldn’t mind having to wait. But now, my mind is
blinded by regret, and a desire to go back and change what I had
done. Even though I did not pull the trigger on her, I knew that I
killed her. It was my fault. I wish I had pulled the trigger. To end her
suffering. I wish I had pulled the trigger on myself when I had the
chance. But now, I was stuck in a trap set by my own curiosity.
The stainless steel walls of the prison seemed to get closer to me,
as did the walls of my mind. The components of both were broken
and had one function. To lower me down into the depths of
insanity. Behind the door of the elevator, I had no idea what I’d be
faced with.
———————————————————————————————————
LILLITH
The door opened.
The readings on the computer system showed no sign of the
Angels being stored here anymore. It seems that there weren't any
Angels here at all.
Rivilend was confused. Everything he had done. Had been for
nothing. He caused the death of someone. For what? Nothing.
He aimlessly ventured through the endless hallways, searching for
anything. He saw nothing for a while. Just the bland colours of the
hall, that seemed to be blending together. He finally found a room
labelled ‘Lillith’.
The casing of the cage was shattered across the floor. Lillith was
gone. There was blood all over the floor. It was blue. The blood type
of an Angel.
The last Angel had come into contact with Lillith. The requirements
had been met.
The Third Impact was going to occur.
———————————————————————————————————
THE THIRD IMPACT
Komm, Süßer Tod (Come, Sweet Death)
The end was nigh.
Rivilend stumbled backwards upon realising what was happening.
He couldn’t save anyone. He couldn’t do anything. He had to let it
be.
A man, on the other side of the world. He was walking around,
looking for supplies and food. He looked forward. He saw his wife.
She had been dead for many years. She was wearing a crimson red
flowing dress. The dress she wore for their wedding. He couldn’t
believe his eyes. He ran over to embrace her. He felt nothing but
happiness. The person he loved the most, was with him again.
He collapsed into nothing but liquid.
The buildings in the city where it all began. Meant to stand the test
of time. They fell like the people they defied. The goliaths were
stripped of their protection of concrete and steel. Back to their
foundations. Falling and collapsing together and creating a pile of
debris.
The people inside ignored this. Everyone in the remains of the
world, were reunited with those they loved the most. Their ends
were swift and painless.
The streets of tarmac were destroyed, leaving only the ground they
once covered. All man made structures returned to what they once
were.
Rivilend rushed out of the basement. Where Rasgados body was
turned into a pool of liquid. As fast as he could, he rushed out of the
house to see the men of the farm, who seemed foreboding at first,
laughing and crying their eyes out. They were happy. They all
immediately turned to liquid.
Is this what the prophecy meant? That we would be rebuilt by killing
all of us?
But it didn’t make sense. They were happy.
Rivilend finally understood. The people of the world were being
killed, one by one, returning them to what they were before. Liquid.
Water. The Earth itself was rebooting, giving the beings who
inhabited it one last moment of happiness before killing them.
The people wanted to die. As the liquid combined, so did their
souls. Their spiritual essence mixed together. They were forever
linked, soul to soul by those they loved most. They would never be
lonely or sad again. They would never want more. They were
content, and so accepted death as the next step.
Humanity was being combined into one collective consciousness.
As Rivilend gazed upon what seemed like a grim end, he smiled. He
wasn’t being reunited with some long lost friend. He had what he
wanted. Everyone was happy. Rivilend closed his eyes, and allowed
himself to crumble into mere liquid.
The farms fences turned back into dirt and small cells of which the
trees and wood came from. The metals returned to the Earth of
which they came from. Tectonic plates shifted once more and
allowed the Earth to return to Pangea.
The Lance of Diogenes inside Adams seed of life crumbled,
allowing the Angels to take their rightful home. Whilst humans let
themselves die out and return to the bare elements that allow them
to live for so long.
Evening past and morning came.
That was the last day.
———————————————————————————————————
Angels had been given their rightful home of Earth. They were able
to soar the skies without a care in the world. No one was their
predator. All was peaceful. They no longer had to file their minds
about humanity and their types of life. There was absolutely nothing
to worry about, right?
In the middle of what is now the Pacific Ocean, hundreds of
thousands of metres below the surface of the water, small volcanic
bumps at the sea bed popped, giving way to chemicals rich in
minerals and vitamins.
And, against all odds. Against the now reigning champion of Earth.
Against what most would call ‘logic’.
Life persisted.
A single bacteria cell fed off of this primordial soup. And it
multiplied and, well, you know the rest.
There was, as you may want to call it, a ‘New Beginning’.
And it was good.
