GuNNhead

She had to give the plants a chance; for they could not communicate with these egomaniacal monsters on a level they acknowledged any longer, she had to give them a voice. But that too, went unheard. So she began to beset upon them herself, encroaching upon the cities, retaking the planet to save the lives of these inhabitants, even the lives of those who would ruthlessly eat only of her kind. She was selfless, always giving. Some had ventured into her depths, only to become a part of the food chain once more, either by their own foolishness, or taken in by a life form that used to be near extinction before her intervention, or taken by a large carnivorous plant. There were, however, a select few, who came to join her, and they now live in this ancient city in harmony. Some have gone back to tell of their findings, but, once again, were shunned. Speaking for ‘the plants’ was deemed insane, too outside of what their society was. Stupid, useless, pointless. Why, they would say, should we care of the plants? They do not have life. This society failed to see how intelligent plants were, because they would not do the things that they valued. The plants were not ‘at their level’. Below them.

They do have consciousness, they reach, they aspire, a plant’s life goals are as most life’s. They seek to draw energy from the sun, from the water, and they seek to live and prosper as most life. Those who have ever watched a plant grow up over the course of time should know this, but they do not, they ignore what is in front of their faces because plants can not make a sound. They are unrelatable because they do not have a face or form as theirs. She only wants to live in harmony, at a sustainable level. This other species was destroying the planet, and would kill themselves long before they would kill all plant life, or, perhaps simultaneously, as I was told before my venture into this jungle.

But what can I do? This is not my concern. I am fueled no longer by nutrients, but by death, it is what drives me; existential crises, deep space travel, destroying and mutilating those who challenge me or cross my path, that is the type of problem I face.

I know now what I must do.

I tell the beautiful flower that I will help in her battle for harmony, and, with that, from this maiden with the make of a tree, I take my leave. I rain down upon the populous city in a hailstorm of surge bullets. Gravity sphere after gravity sphere topple building after building. Wanton destruction of life. I find a ‘vegan café’. I take my exercise. I burst in through the window; they are weak, emaciated in support of their thick-headed eugenical genocide. “Life unworthy of life”. They break like dirt in my hands; not even enough to properly destroy. I pick them up by their head, and they explode in my hands. Their arms break with the slightest force, bone splintering, blood spraying. Their screams of pain are weak gurgles as they choke on their ‘health food’. This game is no longer fun, and I continue forth. Soon, the world’s armies beset upon me, and they too, fall. I continue carving my path of death the world over until the entire populous is within a sustainable range for the size of their planet. I enter each world leader’s headquarters personally; I rip and tear what security they have limb from limb in front of their faces, showering them in scores of blood and viscera. All who attempt to attack me die by my hand. I do what no creature should have the stomach to do. Billions upon billions lose their lives. At the end, with the entire world watching, I tell them what she had told me. Coated in death, I feel nothing.

This entry was posted on January 20, 2010 at 3:33 am and is filed under Fiction, Gravity Surge, Sci-Fi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.