Globusz^® Publishing 

The world...

There are those who would now look around and tell you... that sure, there's peace. They can wake up in the morning and there isn't rubble to slice them into bleeding shards... there aren't bullet-riddled corpses that used to be their friends. They forget. They laugh. They dance. They fuck. They live. Why bother rocking the boat – they say. We're not in it anymore. Inside their own little bubble, inside their own tiny sphere of comfort, there is nothing left to fight. But that hatred, that fear, always remains...

But the world... in this peace, within it, that hatred is like a poison. And the fields are on fire... if the System is evil, then why does the destruction that is everything that's left reek of sulfur and blood? Shattered pods like half-smashed glass aquariums, naked lifeless bodies like so many mannequins impaled on shards of what once was their life – their womb. Power plants on plumes of smoke, carcasses of a soft stifled gasp that is impossible to conceal the tears in, just behind the surface crumpled beings, Sentinel, Machine, humans missing limbs and entangled like brother with their fallen enemies. Burning. Burning.

Everything is black – the sky, the world. The hearts of those left behind, because they subsist on HATRED and hatred alone, the legends of victory live on and all the while those who have decided that they know best are out there, out there, slaughtering their own people for the sake of control. So who are the oppressors now?

Humans learn destruction, best of all. Like little kids playing with their new chemistry set, hoping for a gold star from teacher, humans learn destruction best of all. Their furthest advances have been those that bring blood. And if the bomb they once struck failed to 'destroy their enemy', well then... they'll simply develop another. And even here, even NOW, it has already begun. Red and blue, sure – red of the fields and their drenching of blood, red of dying LED vision, red of melted pods and burning sky. Blue, the only light that's left.

And black... all that remains.

I walk that path because that is where I belong, now. I always have, boots on steel and bare palms on those brothers of mine now a meaningless jumble of wires – like the ones whose blood was shed in a chair or in the fields. It reminds me where I came from... and why I'm here. Outside these walls, there is freedom. Inside... is simply another Matrix, can't you see it? If you subscribe to hatred, BLINDNESS, if you simply swallow what you are taught about the 'evil machines' the way all of you swallowed the Matrix... then what, really, is left?

Only real peace: if you can believe.

And in the midst of all this destruction, the shattered glass and burning metal, the meting wires and the constant rain of ash that continues to drift over everything like hot black snow... in the middle of this brutality, I found... one single, small creature – one tiny life form scrambling for survival among the ruins, one small, living, sentient being that has chosen survival instead of death. Not taking sides, not glorifying in destroying what was left and staking its remains... simply living, surviving, and being grateful for that much. A symbol of everything, of what could be YOUR limitless, undefined potential... a symbol of hope, of redemption, of faith – a symbol of LIFE.