Sailing through sleep toward complete lack of consciousness with the horror still creeping up my spine, I fade from the world of constant rumbling of steel against steel. Will it remain when I awake? Is there hope it might change? I feel calm at last, but only at the surface. We careen around a corner and stare headfirst into the future, but I'm preoccupied by the views to the left and right. Nothing ahead, nothing behind, everything around me is a comforting, surreal expression of mediocrity through an inch of glass.
We pass a village in flames, up to its rooftops in water, and I see silent screams as children swim through the blankets of smoke, gasping for air, or hope, or a hint of understanding. In a blink of an eye they're gone and our journey continues where theirs likely ends, past burning landscapes and forests that dance like skeletons, lined up one by one across the skyline. There's commotion at every angle and in every direction, and I'm left at ease, all care and concern devoured by the darkness into which we're headed. There's no stopping time. Who am I to try?
We pass a village in flames, up to its rooftops in water, and I see silent screams as children swim through the blankets of smoke, gasping for air, or hope, or a hint of understanding. In a blink of an eye they're gone and our journey continues where theirs likely ends, past burning landscapes and forests that dance like skeletons, lined up one by one across the skyline. There's commotion at every angle and in every direction, and I'm left at ease, all care and concern devoured by the darkness into which we're headed. There's no stopping time. Who am I to try?