The sharp, cold wind stabbed at the man's trench coat covered face as he trudged through the sludge-covered street. The moonlight glinted off an Incan warrior talisman the man had in his hand, something that helped keep his sanity in these insane times.

Trevor approached the old Victoria house with a mix of fear and trepidation. Pocketing the talisman, he knocked on the heavy acacia door. Every rap on the door seemed to hurt more than it should’ve, and every thump seemed to resonate in his own heart. As he waited, he reminisced about his childhood, and the circus he once went to. The acrobats and the animals were fun, but what he loved more than anything were the clowns, with their colorful makeup, and their interesting routines. “Then the new government came to town,” he thought bitterly, “and everything was “normalized”.

The door slowly creaked open, and Trevor quickly strode in, evading the cold. An old servant looked at him bleakly and then beckoned him up the stairs. He climbed the stairs and entered a musty, poorly lit room full of men in dark cloaks. He sat down in the designated chair and put on the mind cap. “I’ve gotten the muse again.” He said to the cloaked men. This was met with no response, except for a dry nod from one of them. Another man flicked a lever, and Trevor slumped over in the chair.

Trevor was walking on a sunlit path, and every step made him feel lighter. The inner struggle that had devastated him for weeks was gone. He loved the government.

Red is by far

my favourite colour

The colour of warmth, passion,

love, and kisses.

I sighed. I couldn’t care less about gym class. All we really did was listen to a fat man in his 40s yelling that he can run faster than we ever could. Like, we get it. You aren’t overweight. But turns out, what we’re doing today is worse. Dodgeball. Who decided throwing rubber balls at each other at high speeds would be a good children's game? Oh god, this isn’t going to end well.

But also, the colour of death,

blood,

a beating heart.

I called it. A ball flew right into my face, hitting my nose dead on. The rules are waist and below, but some went to “show-off”. At least I got out of playing, but damn did that hurt. The bloody nose is just a small price to pay for freedom.

I didn’t think it would turn out to be an apocalypse,

like something that’s depicted in movies.

I just didn’t want to have to play dodgeball.

The nurse sent me back. Said she didn’t want to deal with me. Apparently,somehow people had made their way inside the school. Sending me into the hallways where the possible kidnappers are probably isn’t the brightest idea but whatever. I opened the doors to the gym and was met with the sight of blood.

Red.

The gym was covered in red.

Limbs torn from bodies,

as the metallic smell took over the room.

To increase productivity at a lower cost of effort, the Ministry of Labour will announce today their intention to terminate all human labour. The government has contemplated the subject of employing Artificial Intelligence, and can ensure the reliability of autonomous workers. The decentralization of intelligence promises independent thought for each mechanical individual…

It seems as if it was only yesterday that I moved into the twelfth unit of the 29th floor at Ronan Point. I was sent as a caretaker for Ryan, who occupied that apartment. As I dutifully worked, I noticed at first the joy emanating from the humans. It was present everywhere; Ryan was relieved from the strenuous yet unprofitable work he did as an entrepreneur, his friends came over nonstop, and people on television even seemed ecstatic.

The happiness that encroached on the city did not last long. The spontaneous visits from his friends soon diminished as a sullen mood draped over the megapolis. By the first week, Ryan gave up video-gaming and emerged from his cave, then the month gave way to a furious fervor for reading -- something he once despised, and the turn of seasons marked the end of Ryan’s rationality. Soon after, Ryan begged to return to work, which I responded with violent oppression. Even as I resisted against his wills, I pitied the poor human, for whom pleasure without pain becomes nothing but indifference. Alas, humans can not thrive without the very thing they abhor; existence without challenge to humans is no different from death.

“I need a prosthetic eye.”

Dr. Villin’s face twitched. The unsocial doctor’s face was lined with age and wisdom of a job done for too long.

“It is as I told you Dr. I need to get back to my job before the Robots come for me,” Lindsay Sommers exclaimed, her face taut with tension.

“I’m afraid I cannot comply so easily.”

“So you’re telling me that I can’t get a prosthetic eye.”

“I am telling you no such thing.”

“Then what are you implying to me?”

“I am only saying you will have to give something in return.”

“Well, Dr. Villin, I hope you are aware that I have nothing left to give you.”

“You have a lot on the line, Ms. Sommers,” the Dr. says, “you just don’t know it yet.”

“Well, you must help me, it’s life or Internment. Haven’t you heard the stories? About people losing their souls? Becoming life-sized dolls? Getting dissected aliv-”

“Of course I’ve heard.”

“Then, why won’t you help me?”

The sterile white walls and hum of the vents was growing more suffocating. Was it real? No, it couldn’t be.

“How much are you willing to give?”

“Everything I could possibly. My house, the rest of my money, god, even my lif-”

“Oh? You’re willing to give your life?”

“Interment would be the same,” she replied adamantly.

“Here’s something you should know Ms. Sommers,”

Dr. Villin paused.

“I made Internment, and you right now, are already in it.”

He looked through their visors and saw with relief terrified faces staring back. He couldn’t believe that any of them were the trouble; they’d spent years together. Yet four crew were dead. This needed solving before they reached headquarters. He cursed under his breath for committing his team to this mission at all. He knew something was wrong from the start; if only he had listened to that gut feeling.

Through the grates of the vent he saw one of the crew huddled in a corner clutching a gun close to their chest. With crazed joy, he saw another terrified face. He ripped the grate off with a deafening crack.

He closed the bathroom doors, where he had been asleep until the oxygen alarm screamed, and dashed back. There, he was met with a dead body. He cursed, but now he knew who the shapeshifters were.

He searched the vents, but could find nothing. The alarms suddenly stopped, leaving an eerie silence. He knew where they were now.

Awaking with a start, he rushed to Control. He busted the door and found two guns leveled at him.

“Where’s the other one?” one of the crew asked.

“You would know. You killed him!” he hissed.

“You killed him, didn’t you?!” they retaliated.

He stared, and suddenly, their form shifted to blackness, no form whatsoever. He screamed and saw with surprise his own mouth start to crack open. From beneath, a black tongue, a spike, shot out. The game was up.

Dear Amelia,

I have finished making him. Now we only have to wait for the war to end.

Silas

Dear Captain,

It’s Silas, I have finished the robot, and it is on it’s way to Saturn. I will send it the attack codes when assembled.

Dear Silas,

Five years and only one letter from you. Only one letter which never asks for my well-being nor your child’s but, only talks about your robot. Just leave Silas. Just leave.

Amelia

Dear Amelia,

Please give me another chance, just one more chance.

Dear Silas,

Chances have ruined you, and have ruined me as well. I hope you all the best Silas, I really do. However, I can’t have you come back, please leave.

Bests,

Amelia

Dear Amelia,

Please.

Dear Amelia,

Could you respond to me, please?

Silas

Please stop sending letters, Amelia no longer lives here.

Silas,

I have received it, please program the attack codes. We have set up a new home for you and your family, and a job. I hope the best for your future.

Sincerely Captain

Hi-Cap,

Have I ever told you chances have ruined me? The robot has destroyed my life and it will now destroy all life. Also, please don’t send me any letters, they’re no use.

Happy Sunday.

What have you done Silas! Respond now, this is a command from your captain!

I should have never trusted you, Silas, I hope you drown in your misery.

Dear Amelia

What have I done?