Nuclear Time Waste Heroes

Black Hole Waste Race

BLACK HOLE WASTE RACE

The old man that spent Time staring at desert 3 am space covered in a layer of dust. He opened his mouth and his voice was so raspy it's as if the sand had been the one to rub down his voice to near nonexistence.

"I remember the wars. There was speak of time travelers in our presence. Proof that we didn't have to live this shit life," The old man inhales air more poisonous than cigarettes into his damaged noisy lungs. "They were mere kids looking as if the universe itself had birthed them except they had the power to alter this whole damn world."

Somewhere amongst the desert glowing blue a wolf howls at its full moon.

"And we really had it in for us, we did. Every country capable had their mind set straight as an arrow to capture the kids and figure out the secret of Time Travel. It was another race all over again, the Time Waste Race, and it was going to destroy the whole lot of us."

The old man is wracked in a dangerous cough capable of making your ghost flee from your naked body in a desperate attempt to save itself from destruction.

"But that wasn't all. Things were building up higher than the skyscrapers, and they came crashing down on us, raining chaos and war. Outside the air was replaced with smoke and it smelled of death everywhere. You couldn't escape it, there was no way."

Death is still gorging on corpses by the hundreds every night because it knows that it won't make another reappearance for millennia.

"This one really was the war to end all wars, because after it'd finished there was no one left to fight and nothing left to fight with. We used this war as an excuse at world peace. We've always used the bomb to destroy the bomb but we've never thought to just screw the bomb. Never thought that it could even kill its creator."

It's enough to make you want to spit acid. The senseless killing. The pointless destruction. As if to get you high off violence. This is another of mankind's greatest flaws, their libido for war.

The old man hacks away his lungs once more. He leans forwards and light glints off his glasses. Shaky, wrinkled hands pull them off revealing milky white eyes blind from the byproduct of man's self-destruction.

"The forests belong to the bears. The deserts to belong to the wolves. And the oceans belong to the fish. We can't come in like a tsunami and wipe out the laws of the earth, no. Not when we get mad when somebody from the wrong country so much as steps foot in ours without permission. It's our own species we hate the most because we see all of ourselves in everyone."

On two shaky legs the old man stands up, cane in hand and heads out, off his porch into the blue moon. The cane swinging from side to side going—swish, swish—in the sand dispelling scorpions and unturned stones falls into a deep pit and the old man stands staring into the endless abyss.

"As kids we would always hear about these theories that our lives were nothing but dreams," He laughs, except it's more of a death rattle than a laugh. "Can you believe that? The theory, I hate it because it would mean that everything I'd ever done was for nothing. All my work turned to dust."

The old man hacks and hacks and then lights himself a cigarette. Wrinkled hands throw the match into the darkness and the fire cuts through it like knives. Exhaled smoke creates a thin veil over the man's face. His dull eyes blink and all emotion evacuates his face like the fleeing humans from earth. The expression on the old man's face is the universe cracked open and flowing into his gaping mouth. All the truths. The origin of everything. They're all his.

The wolf howls once more. That desolate cry that can only be emitted from the body once you understand the hopelessness of apocalypse.

This is apocalypse. This is us.

The old man's skull cracks, exploding dark matter and nebula. In this instant the earth has been taken away from self-destructive humans hyped on Immorality Syndrome. The old man coughs and spews out bursts of light that crash into the hole whose edges extend to swallow everything and the disintegrating old man being torn apart, atom by atom, creating energy equivalent to millions of atomic bombs says, "If life is a dream. If life is an illusion. If life was a mindless waste of time then I need you to wake me up."