Mother Earth.

Chapter 7: The Day Will Come.

Lydia Armageddon, Svivla Falla.

Remnants of Mannheim Wassurturm,

The year 2167.

Dried petrified trees surrounded them on the edge of the circular path, the dry soil beneath their boots puffed up in dust as they walked forward past the fence designating they do not walk there, so they do not ruin the garden of flowers. The sun was past its peak, noon had passed, and the temperature began to cool ever so slightly. Svivla looked to his right and the smoothed-out concrete, bricks lining the edges with spouts of metal and porcelain by the maroon constructs of small ledges. Square tiles dry for a century. It was quiet here. Svivla and Lydia were on the approach of a massive tower, the spire circular rounding off at the top, a rod peaking up to the sky. The brick foundation was a light brown, and the roof was a turquoise green. In the far distance, the toppled glass towers beneath the grand machine sizing up to the same buildings it tore down. Four barrels sprouted from its metal core in a uniform line on its front, missiles launching simultaneously with unloading blankets of machine gunfire from its eight stations. with was among the German's greatest weapons, next to their fighter jets, and nuclear missiles. The Rolling Fortress, its name is what it sounds like, a base of operations that was built to move forward as advancements were made with the ground teams clearing out any possible attempts to destroy it, steamrolling anything in its path. Foreboding machines; the mechanical monstrosities of war loomed in almost every city they went to. This wasn't the first time the two of them saw a Rolling Fortress.

"What's this place?" Lydia asked, running her vision up and down the concrete, to the porcelain spouts and back.
"This was all fountains long ago," Svivla answered. He pointed to the tower, and down the dry stream.
"This was all fountains of fresh water," He said, then pointed back at the water tower.

"That right there is Wasserturm, German for water tower I'm pretty sure. That was a big tourist destination in this city. Actually, maybe..." Svivla trailed off in his words, pulling something out of his pocket. As the two of them walked side by side on the path to Wassurturm, he flipped through a small notebook.
"One second... here, I do have one."

Svivla put out the open notebook for her.
"Here, have a look."

She took the notebook in her left arm, holding it with her metal fingers. There was a small photograph taped onto the page, the edges worn with the years it had been kept, discoloured and torn. It was a photo of where they stood now, a relic of what was. Water poured from every porcelain spout, flying high in sunlight becoming shimmering sparks of droplets, painting a misty rainbow as a cloud over top the nearby blurs of people walking by. In this messy photo, slanted and all, Lydia could only see the water mosaic sparks with the water tower in the background.
"Holy shit... It's beautiful, you take this yourself?! You're fucking awesome!" Lydia exclaimed.
"I didn't, I found this photo not too long before I met you. It was too gorgeous to leave it behind, you can't find photos like this just anywhere." Svivla continued, Lydia handed the book back to him.
"It's a beauty no one will ever get to see again, all of that is gone now."
"No shit, man. I can't believe that was ever a thing-"
"Hilfe bitte! Hilfe bitte!"

Their conversation was cut off by the cry of a man in a language neither of them knew, someone in the distance. Lydia stopped in her tracks, same with Svivla. While the faint crackle of lightning could be heard from her body, steadfast and weary, Svivla stood calmly looking around for the source.
"There."
"Bitte, wir brauchen wasser! Bitte!" His raspy voice called to them, coming from the water tower, stumbling from the upper platform down the stairs. He was a frail man, all skin and bones with tattered clothing barely suitable for wearing. Beside him, a small child with fully functional clothing, her hair in a frazzled mess. Both of their faces were twisted in pain.
"Lydia, drop it."
"But what-"
"I said drop it. They are not dangerous, we do not need to scare them."

Without a word, and huff, she let her lightning go, and the crackling stopped. The stranger kept yelling at them, coming closer and closer down the steps. Svivla put out his hand to try and signal them to stop.
"DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!" Svivla shouted, his low voice booming, but they kept moving anyway.
"Wasser! Wasser!"

Lydia tilted her head up, looking at the two approaching.
"Why are they not listening?"
"They must not speak English."

The man pointed at the water tower, still shouting at them. It sounded like a plea, a cry for help, for anything. The small child was in tears. Upon seeing her and the man's faces as they got closer, Svivla immediately began to move towards them as well.
"Woah, woah! What the fuck are you doing?" Lydia barked at him.
"They need water."
"So?!"
"We are giving that to them."
"Fucking what?"