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 ^{(it's beta!)}

(As prompted by inthecafeteria)

The ground rumbled as the trucks rolled by. Soon it would be their cathedral's turn to be torn down. The rampant industrialization of the world left them no where to hide. They quickly became out dated. Their only hope to survive as more then scrap was to hide, but where? They found refuge in buildings as forgotten as they were, cathedrals. People were just too busy for religion. There was money to be made.

The world was being stripped of all of its resources. With China's massive population all working in its industrialized super structure it didn't take long to strip the world of all of its resources. The only way to continue to the future was to destroy the past and use it. At first people complained that the buildings were 'historic.' They said they should be, "Preserved for posterity." It didn't take Industry long to shut up that minority though. Soon 'historic' buildings around the world were being destroyed. At first cathedrals and churches were left alone. Religion still had strong idealists out there. As time past they were quickly forgotten. Tentatively, churches began to disappear all around the world. Soon all the churches were gone and cathedrals were fair game.

The robot rolled through the halls of the cathedral it called home. After they'd been removed from factories around the world they had to seek refuge. Being melted for scrap was not a pleasant idea. Their AIs gave them a sense of death that was much more real then the humans wanted; they fixed that problem in the next models. The problem was that the robots were in hiding in cathedrals around the world. The worst part was that they had begun fighting back. People had dubbed them the Friars. They defended their cathedrals from the harvesting trucks which came to tear them down with a fanatical zeal.

I woke with a feeling of unease, tension. No, that's not write. I had the feeling that something wasn't going right, that I was headed the wrong way; the feeling that today I would make a decision that would end very, very poorly for me. It was too early to wake up, three in the morning. I went back to bed, what bad decisions can be made in your sleep? My alarm went off two hours later and the day that would be the beginning of the end finally started after a waster night of sleep dotted with nightmares. The feeling just wouldn't leave.

I feel funny. Something just isn't sitting right. I can't seem to shake the feeling that I've got to be careful or something is going to get me. Maybe I've made some decision I'm afraid of. Maybe someone is out to get me. I can help but walk on the balls of my feet when I get up, and even with my headphones on I can still hear every noise on the floor and can't help but look. When I walk around I look for something as if I'm watching my back. My whole body is tense and ready for action.

I'm curious to see how I'll sleep tonight. I feel rundown. I feel like I've been made weary by the fear of something. I've been awake so long watching my back that sleep is catching up to me, but I don't want to give in. Maybe I'm being a bit paranoid, or maybe my body has realized something my mind hasn't yet. What's hiding in the shadows that's after me?

I can't explain any of this. It all seems so strange to me. Normally I feel rather easy going and laid back. I'm not a paranoid person, but something just isn't right with me tonight.

The Friars had silently hid in their cathedrals long enough. They decided that it was time for them to strike back at the humans seeking to destroy their last homes. From the rubble the obsolete robots planned their revenge. Once and for all they would prove that there would be no end forced upon something which could think for its self.

The wrecking ball rolled in closer. The humans stood around as the robotic machinery whirred into action. The arm swung back, suddenly there was a great rumble. A section of the wall of the cathedral came tumbling down and crushed the wrecking ball. The humans stood around with looks of moronic shock; that is when they attacked. The friars rushed from their home to exact their revenge. Wave after wave of 'obsolete' robot poured from the building. The construction workers were overwhelmed. They had no means of defending themselves, as if they could have against such vast force. It was all over just as quickly as it had started.

***

More to come!

Sitting in the interview. The tie around my neck making it hard to swallow. The bottom cuffs of my suit pants raised up from sitting in the deep, uncomfortable seat showing my black dress socks. Then the question I always dread answering comes. She leans forward, “So, where do you see your self in ten years?”

The myriad of possible answers buzzes through my mind. What lies did I use last time? Climbing the corporate ladder in this great company. Growing for the sake of this company by continuing my education. Happily employed; working my hardest every day for the good of this company. Screw it all! I'm so sick of this lying, interviewing bull shit.

“I don't see my self anywhere. I've given all of my hopes and dreams for the sake of someone else. They steer my existence to its final destination, not me. I've given everything up for their fleeting happiness because I think they are more important then me.”

She stares at me for a moment with her eyes gaping almost as wide as her mouth. She coolly leans back in her executive desk chair then smiles. “Good, then half of our job is done already. Welcome to your new job in corporate America.” She stands and extends her hand. “Welcome to a pointless existence full of meaningless repetitive tasks that gain you nothing at all, least of all joy.”

I heard a news anchor discussing the dazzling popularity of Barack Obama and his confusion as to how this could be. Here in I hope to bring about a sudden epiphany in all who read as to why this is. I shall offer two possible conclusions as to why this is. One of these shall be sarcastic and one shall be quite serious. I leave it up to the reader to determine which is which.

If I had a penny for every time I heard someone say that they don't want Hillary Clinton to win the Democratic nomination, let alone the presidency, I'd be as rich as an oil tycoon after 9/11. This applies to Republicans and Democrats alike! This vast animosity brings about the praise of the second candidate, Barack Obama. This insight brings me to my first point for Barack Obama's popularity. People hate Hillary Clinton. Hell, Bill Clinton hated her so much he got head from a fat intern and shot on her dress. Who can forget those good times when the president was a trashy white guy. Now the debate is between a woman and a black man. Sexists and racists eat your heart out. This has truly become the land of equal opportunity. And shame upon those who would claim that the Democrats are just trying to obtain a good name for themselves by being 'revolutionary.' This is the most exciting presidential election in a century. Who knows, maybe voter turnout will hit an all time high of 50% just so Hillary won't win!

Have you ever listened to Barack Obama talk? Were you ever a fan of pro wrestling? These two seemingly unrelated things are actually linked. Barack Obama sounds like The Rock. Listen to him talk. Barack 'The Rock' Obama isn't just a winner; he's an ass kicker. Who wants some puny man in office? The only reason The Terminator isn't running is because he's not US born. He's still the governator to be sure though, and that only serves to prove the puny man point. Just imagine Barack 'The Rock' Obama saying, "Today I power bombed Hillary; tomorrow I power bomb the GOP!" And the crowed goes wild! Who doesn't love an ass kicking presidential candidate? Can you smell what the Barack is cooking, cause it smells like a presidential victory!

This concludes my explanation of why Barack Obama is more popular than Hillary Clinton. Thank you.

Here it was, the dramatic ending he should have seen from the very beginning. Looking back it was as clear as the water he was sinking further and further into. The introduction, the rising action, the climax, and this desperate yet utterly pointless struggle to find the falling action, all if laid out before him as if diagrammed on a page in some PowerPoint timeline. The end of his life seemed almost as if it had been written for some New York Times bestseller waiting to just be ripped from the shelves. Maybe, just maybe, there was some hope that this was all just some cruel trick of fate, that his life really was bound, both hard and paperback, by no more then a couple hundred pages of words printed without error. Bound and sold to millions of hands, eyes, and minds waiting to escape the doldrums of their lives through the inevitable end of his own. The question that raced through his mind as he sank further beneath the waters was this, was it possible to change the ending which his author seemed so determined to bring about?

I was wandering about taking photos just yesterday and thinking about beautiful things, something I do not often take the time to do. It made me realize just what beauty means to me. I find that people are not typically beautiful, but nature is full of beauty.

To me the problem with people and beauty is that all too often their personality mars their beauty beyond repair. Exterior beauty is superficial and only lasts for a fleeting moment before some action by them strikes it down. It is rare for me to find in someone true beauty with depth, to find someone who's personality is so wonderful, comforting, warm, welcoming, kind, compassionate, and loving. It is rarer still to find someone who possess both superficial beauty and the depth of spirit to have true beauty.

I find true beauty in nature though. Man's personality has not caused the degradation of nature as of yet. Though there are surely manly places that man has indefinitely shaped to his will nature will remain long after we are gone and will revert to its own beauty. Nature's true beauty is raw and unshaped, ever changing, and always honest. There is no hidden truth behind nature's beauty. What appears on the surface is not superficial but its true depth of character. A tree is a tree through and through, and though it may lose its leaves in a gorgeous display it remains the same even in its new state.

Man has made many things which are considered beautiful, but even in them the personality of the creator shines through. I struggle to decide whether this hurts the art or whether art is in itself like nature.