A Manner of Speaking

Cindy

*sigh* ud know this if u read the silmarillion...
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Feb 28, 2018
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There's an unspoken chill that finds its way down your spine in your waking moments. As if you've just emerged from the sea after having touched the ocean floor, struggling for air and coughing up the water that may have made its way into your lungs. It is your mind reasserting its control over your body as you exit the state of dreaming. But in this world, the nightmares linger even beyond your waking moments.


The cold and unforgiving surface of metal crept against my skin and resonated through my hairs as they stood on end. It was digesting the new environment that it had found itself in. A cold, empty chamber with light only creeping into the room from the adjacent corridor. As my senses returned, so did the pain- and the memory that was bagged with it. I relived the moment of the claws tearing my stomach open again, and again, and again. The malevolence of their red eyes was the only thing that my eyes could focus on as it eviscerated me to the floor.


But as my feet grazed the ground in my mind once again I slowly spun out from the cycle and realized that my pain did not come from my wounds but the scars that had now healed them over. And in my peripheral yet blurred vision, the surgeon responsible for the handiwork glared at my restrained body with unrivaled deviance. Like red gemstones embedded into a crystal skull. The terminator that saved my life, only for me to be returned to the process of articulate cataloging of the human race and their inevitable culling.


And yet in a way, I understood why.



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When I was born, my father had already come to pass. My mother was killed not long after I turned four. All I have learned about us, as a people and as a species before the bombs have been of my own findings. For the longest of time, I only heard what life was like from those who lived before, who had witnessed the devastation of the nuclear attacks. The accounts of Judgement Day were always dreadful, but few could even remember the past. For many, it was like an intangible fantasy- as if they questioned they had ever lived it at all. But from what I have come to understand, we were a destructive people.


Long before SkyNET awoke, we were sabotaging the very planet we inhabited. With wars pitted against one another, we ravaged the landscape and slaughtered one another. We were on a path to self destruction long before the terminators sped up the process. Even now, in the age of the machine- at the synapse of humanity's extinction, we brood and bicker over land and resources. Hearts and minds. We fight one another despite the horsemen of the apocalypse marching on our doorstep.


It was this revelation that opened my mind to the realization that SkyNET's efforts are not a machine gone wrong, rather it is simply a program following in the footsteps of its creator. Everything we have done, everything we as a species have amounted to has been in the direction of our own incremental demise. We made machines to make the things that were hard to accomplish easy. SkyNET was no different.


SkyNET is a product of our hubris. An attempt to defend ourselves from eachother. To invent a way to defeat our enemies more efficiently. In a manner of speaking, we are our enemies. In a manner of speaking, we deserve to die. Because if SkyNET were to one day be defeated, our troubles would start again. War would break out between our own inevitably. If we were to be liberated, we would not learn the lesson that our own creation presents. The cycle must be broken.


We are a hopeless, destructive people. Our extinction is within the best interests of our planet. For when we are absent, and when SkyNET can no longer sustain its systems using the resources at its disposal, we will dissipate. Nature will run its course, and the forests will return.


And Earth will start over, without the interference of humans like me.

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