posted on Sep, 24 2005 @ 07:19 PM
I can't say I never dreamed of it, or didn't want it. We had it coming, in more ways than one; we made it come.
I hit play on my IPOD; I figured it had just enough power for one last song. I knew just what I wanted to hear. I preferred the German version- it
sounded better, and I could translate it however I liked. I never had decided on a translation, except to envision the last verse in an amalgam of the
99 Jahre Krieg
Liessen keinen Platz fuer Sieger
It's all over and I'm standin' pretty
In this dust that was a city
If I could find a souvenier
Just to prove the world was here...
The earphones crackled and the power gave out, just a two lines short of the end. I looked around. I didn't have to envision it anymore. It was more
touching than I ever could have imagined.
So this was New Orleans, in all of it's ravaged beauty. Fat, heavy drops of the perpetual rain splashed in the mud at my feet in at an unusually lazy
cadence. I took in the stench of rotting lumber and rusting steel as I stared down the hill over the stagnant lakes which dominated the city. This was
the first casualty of Mankind's judgement upon himself, my home, and resting place. I hadn't been home in years- no one had. There was too much to
rebuild after Hurricane 27; they gave up on naming them after they ran out of letters for 2005. That was just trivia. It didn't matter. The weather
weapons, the nukes, the terminator seeds, the factories, the cars, the nuclear waste dumps, the Russians, the Chinese, the Americans- all of that was
gone now. Enough was enough, said the Earth. We didn't have to do it to ourselves anymore. A bell rings long after it is struck. When it stopped, if
it stopped, it would be a thousand years before mankind could transgress again.
Good. At least I'd die ungoverned. If my children were alright, somewhere out there in the wastes of the mid west- perhaps they'd be able to start
things fresh, and not repeat my generation's mistakes.
I'd done what I came to do. I'd stood where it all began, and it worked. I was ready for what came next. I ran a hand uneasily over my blistered,
hairless scalp, the familiar uneasiness in my stomach reaching a peak as I anticipated its end. I slid my hand down the back of by neck, gripping the
muzzle of the shotgun on my back, and pressed it to the base of my neck as i slid my other hand below my back to the trigger. I thought I was free,
but everything went black before I could be sure.