Chapter Text
Masterpiece~
The street was dead silent. Houses littered all around the sides, as if watching those who walked the streets. Each was identical, save the small numbers on the mailbox. There was one man out. He seemed to be oblivious to the abandoned homes all around him. His eyes stared at his feet while he walked down the street. Wind whooshed and blew his hat right off his head, causing him to look up. He watched as it flew through the air like a bird flying away for freedom. It was short lived as it landed on the yard of his destination.
His brother's house.
Grabbing the hat, he dusted it off and tucked it away. He casually walked to the door and knocked. After some time with no reply, he tried again and received the same results. Confused at his brother's actions, he paced around the front porch till he heard a creak. The door had begun to open by the force of the wind.
At this, he looked around at the neighboring houses to see the same sight; empty and bleak. He had never been to his sister's house and was unsure what to do. Thoughts flew through his mind as he began to think of the possible scenarios that would leave to everyone leaving their homes.
With those thoughts fighting in his mind, he pushed the wooden door open and looked for his brother. His eyes frantically looked at every detail the house offered in hopes it would shed light to what happened. Like the outside of the home, the inside showed little proof it was his brother that lived there. No pictures, only a number.
"Timbo?" he yelled, listening to it echo through the house. "I've come back from my tour. I told you I would visit. Where are you?" There was no reply except for the house's creaking.
He explored the house more and came across a control panel of sorts. It had colorful buttons of all shapes and sizes, like a new child's toy. Behind was huge electronic boxes, containing something he didn't know. His eye caught the one lone maroon button that read, On.
After debating it, he decided to let his curiosity overcame his fears. With that, he clicked the button and quickly retracted his finger. Nothing had happened. Silence before the storm.
His ears were bombarded by multiple robotic voices at once, all clumped together into gibberish. Clocks were ringing and the house was alive. Little mice came out and ran across the floor with purpose. Lights flickered on and off, unsure of what to do. Slowly, the house became calm and he was let to himself once again.
Shock was shown in his face and the world blurred. What had happened while he was off fighting the war? What was this technology and why did his sister have it? He found himself sitting in the living room when he became aware of his surroundings.
A voice broke through his thoughts saying,"Nine-five". He sat up and was gazing cautiously at his surroundings. The same voice said, "Mr. Drake, which poem would you like this evening?" He sat in silence, waiting for the next thing the voice did.
"Since you express no preference, I shall select a poem at random." A pause. Soft music coming through. "Sara Teasdale. As I recall, your favorite..."
It soon began to read the poem. He stood and frowned. What was he doing? He came for his brother, but was now only staying out of curiosity. Grabbing his discarded duffle bag from earlier, he made his way to the door. The night sky stood out through the door but left as soon as it came when it was banged shut. He yanked the door knob, kicked the door, and even tried throwing his body weight against it, but it wouldn't budge.
"Where do you think you are going Mr. Drake? The poem has been read and it is now your bed time. You can't leave just as you got back." The calm voice spoke again.
"I'm not him! Let. Me. Out!"
An array of robots for different jobs came into his view, all their glowing eyes locked on him. Without another thought, he dashed down to the basement where the operating system laid. After what felt like hours he saw the panel, and dread came upon him. What was he going to do to stop it? The robots hissed behind him adding to his stress.
Without thinking he grabbed the nearby metal chair and shoved it into the panel, watching as sparks flew through the air. It was like the fourth of July fireworks he had seen when he was a child. The robots froze and clasped on themselves. The house had once again become silent, except for one faint voice. Walking around the machines littered in his path, he made it to the door and was greeted with the wind once again.
He pulled out his last cigarette and his body was filled with the relief of nicotine. The smoke rose from it and vanished into the night sky. Before it became a bud, he tossed in onto the porch and sat on the street in front of it.
The house became a masterpiece. Fire had encased it like the hug he desired to give his sister. Warm, caring, protecting, yet destructive. It was almost glowing in the night. Standing up he took one last glance at the illuminated house and walked back in the direction he came, the only sound being a distinct voice saying,
"Today is November 7, 2028, today is November 7, 2028, today is..."