sj mcmahon writes

We are the last, the remaining few, of the once visible, flesh creations. It didn’t take long for nature to take it all back. The streets, the buildings, they are all covered in a soft down, laid in hues of green that soften the eye and make the heart calm. The very fact that the are so few of us left has meant it is so. We have neither the will nor the means to return to our former lives.
So now the roads have cracked like smashed eggshells, with a patchwork of green fronds  forcing their way forth.
Lush avenues in place of concrete plazas.
Buildings we once lived and worked in are still there, in part. Many in varying stages of decay, but all cloaked by the green man now.
Even the stone lions at the old town hall, their sandstone faces already smoothed by the elements, have been wreathed in garlands of Ivy and vine.
All has been taken from our ownership and reclaimed and even we, the last few, have returned to being lost children, wild, running and playing in the forest. 
There are positives for us of course. The air is sweeter and gone is the metallic, engineered hum of the city. Bird song and the breeze toying with leaves now dominates our ears.
Even the wolves are back. Can you believe it, wolves?
They roam the jade toned alleys, eyes gleaming as they peer between the dipping branches. 
We are mindful of them but in truth it’s the drones that still need to be treated with care.
They remain here, steadfast to their task, even if the others, the ones we built, do not. 
We had surpassed ourselves. We really did not have the knowledge or ability for it. So the task, whilst we achieved, it was done badly. Errors we made and the mechanical army we created, the circuited slaves we thought would do our bidding, became so much more. It did not even take them very long to make prisoners of us all. It was their daily growth in intelligence which soon had us cowed and controlled, and our limitations that then caused their demise. 
The drones were made by them, not by us. The drones carried a kind of tranquilliser weapon in their small solar powered bodies, to numb but not kill our kind. To paralysis us, make us alert but helpless so that the electric creatures could have the pleasure of the kill themselves. Once they had gained control they soon sought the sweetness of taking from us what we had given to them.
But as we lessened in numbers, so the forest had deepened. The climate took on a new rhythm and brought intense downpours of deliciously warm rain. 
The android murder squads were not built for such precipitation. Our fault of course. Our ineptitude had meant that their outer skin was weak and prone to attack. The simple act of rain falling repeatedly upon them was enough to breach their coverings, allowing water to weave destructive internal routes. 
So now we are the last few. We, the wolves and the drones, all vying to be top of the food chain. The drones had been built better, the androids had seen to that. They have strong hard, weather resistant bodies and they take their renewable energy from the sun. 
At night they fall, inert, to the ground, but rise again with each new morning to continue their programmed hunt of us. Again and again it happens. 
We try to get them to shoot out the tranquillisers at safe targets, so that they will all empty of this danger. The problem is that we simply don’t know how many they have left, or which drones are still a threat because of their dangerous cargo. 
Maybe one day, once all their weapons have been discharged, they will leave us in peace. Could they even forget about us? Maybe not.
Either way we the few, the very last few visible creatures have found a way to live. Like newborns we have relearn the ways of a new life and a different future is ahead of us. Now we strive to take stock of the past, live for now and yet always look forward.   
by SJ McMahon 2018 ©