Beyond Infinity: The Convergence

The Enemy

They had been walking for miles, and without the help of nanobots to aid their steps, they found it slow and hard to push on under their own weight.

The three refugees of course. Cali wasn't pure, that much was obvious, May was on her back, August, was well, August, and Bob was lodged in his armpit like a purse. So the four of them were quite fine.

As for the rest, I could watch envy grow in their hearts, and who wouldn't be mad. The four idiots were fine, never seeming to get tired or even care to take a break. I doubt that the tired could have even asked for a break, they would have simply been left behind and told to catch up later.

It was truly a sad state of affairs, they were tired, mentally, and physically, and there was nothing they could do about it, but walk of course.

It had been some stroke of luck or miracle, good or bad, that had prevented them from being attacked, and thus, they would take full advantage of that.

If they were to even hint at wasting such an opportunity, they might have been outright killed, and who wouldn't kill them.

They'd be dead either way, so it was simply their logical conclusion. As such, weak as they were, they stayed quiet.

It was amazing really, their perseverance, to stand up to such forces with a shred of hope, not many would have done so, nor do I think many could have.

It would become apparent that such a belief had in fact, transcended the world of abstraction and was truly only a matter of place and time, events if you would.

They'd continue their journey, navigating the rather self-inflicted danger, sky reaching buildings that once pierced the heavens were laid out on the pavement, mountains and beaches of shards and glass.

It was a precarious affair, being careful not to slip or fall as they passed through the forest of sharp and brittle edges.

There was no telling what a wound would have meant either, especially with the appearance of jet black shards scattered about, just as much as the glass. It danced in the sunlight, its surface a divergence of warping colors.

It was fascinating, the way they spawned from the center of the city, and engulfed the plaza, and even the streets. It was like a shattered vase, signaling some end.

It was an end only felt by August still. Though it would seem as they passed the things by the wayside, that they'd lose their spherochromatism.

The strange fact was given no time of day still, as in the reflections of the looming fragments still, would be images of red and faces, whole and broken.

The dead, buried by the structures they once praised as they absorbed themselves in their own egos. It was a harrowing sight, that of organs and entrails sprawled walls high due to nothing but chance of light. A view of the insides was tame none the less, as one did not have control over such a death, or desecration.

The real horror of where they found themselves was still in the glass, but of a different weight, because of a different conscious action.

A weapon crafted from alloy and leather rested in the hands of the dead, they themselves none the wiser, and due to their own actions.

It could have been a painting, the way the red and gray matter dried on the pillars of fallen glass behind them and gave the place a gorgeous pink-red hue.

As they sat having made a masterpiece though, they'd never see it, as it was an extension of themselves, and a rather brutal one.

It was a disgusting sight, for the humans anyway, even worse than the ones before. They'd look away, hoping to keep what little sustenance they had in their stomachs, in their stomachs.