He stood alone, the last of his kind, gently cradling his child, the last hope for his people, now scared and hungry and too tired to go on. He felt much the same way himself, how did this come to pass? He stood surrounded by an army of faceless mechanoids, the air filled with smoke, and the buzz of a hundred thousand drones. Each casting a searching light, looking for other survivors. He had made it past the bluff, he watched his Mate and other child die, just as he had witnessed so many others.
His people were not technologically advanced, his people were mystics, they lived in harmony with the land. Everything they needed was freely given by the land they lived, as long as they, in turn, looked after the land they dwelt on. His people had lived for many generations this way. They had everything they needed, why would they look elsewhere. They worshipped pagan deities; wind, water, fire, moon, sun. But they did not worship beyond the stars. They had no concept beyond the stars and were as innocent naive children to the Overlords. The Overlords came from beyond the stars. They came in peace, they promised no harm. They offered trade and technology, medicines and advanced ways. His people had no use for the precious metals and minerals the Overlords wanted, nor did they want what was offered, in trade. What harm was there in letting the Overlords take what they wanted?
For a while there was no harm, the Overlords came and went and brought in Mechanoids and Drones and Machinery, it was loud and it was dirty, but they mostly left the local indigenous people alone. Treating them as naive children who did not understand the ways of the Universe. Then the sickness started and at first, it was just the elders, then the children and then so much more. This made his people angry and they blamed the Overlords, sickness like this, they had never known before. Some made crude weapons and took up arms against the Overlords, who quickly and brutally put an end to this rebellion. This made his people angrier, so many had been killed. A Council was called and people traveled long distances from each corner of the earth, it took many moons. The wisest of his people agreed that this sickness was the fault of the Overlords, they had made the deities and the earth angry with their horrid machinery and metal men, they must be sent away; but how.
The implored the Overlords to stop, they asked them to leave, all to no avail. The Overlords became inpatient and tired of the complaints, the setbacks, the upheaval the locals indigenous people had caused, mere children or less, to these mighty Overlords. When the final seeds of the last rebellion started and the people again took up crude arms, the Overlords left the surface and took to the air and left the mechanoids to finish off ‘Cleansing’ the planet. Mechanical Men had no morals, no conscientious, they were programmed to perform a task and they did it diligently, brutally, and quite efficiently. They rounded up men, women, children and vaporized them with laser weapons. They scorched the earth, so there was no food or water left, there was no hope.
So there He stood, alone, the last of his kind gentling cradling his child, the last hope for his people now scared and hungry and too tired to go on. He felt much the same way himself, as the drones turned their searchlights and lasers on him and his child, the Universe heard one final voice “What have you done?” before he too vanished and the earth was silent.
This image was originally created for ShiftArt November challenge, but the story that grew out of the creation of this image became quite powerful and it had to be put to paper (so to speak). Over the last few months I have been quietly, yet diligently working towards putting at least a few words to some of my images. It is said that a picture can paint a thousand words, but powerful words with an image can take you to other worlds. Isn’t that what Movies do for us? Take us into a world of imagination.