"GGGGRRRREEEAAAAT, tah," red-faced, old soul youth exhaled, "WE FAILED." Arms in the air reaching for God's help crane-smacked into thighs.
Lemme listen lemme listen
The wires cheney'd up to a man's head looked like a tumbleweed packratted. For purpose. Whether they know it or not the packrats do what they do for purpose the real Scooby Doo Diane had explained. Made sense. The warfare word had leaked. People and robots were blowing up peoples' RVs and trailers. The out-of-work scientists. Semi-truck full of scraps and parts and servers and body parts were convoying this way and that. We had to sort the flows of trade and travel. Punctually. Efficiently. With no money, no plastic, no food, no water. Dodging fallout--radiation and exploding planes, sats, and balls of shrapnel. Some shoved off platforms craned and SUCKED UP BY THE HOLES IN THE OZONE, QUIT WRITING, IT'S A FUCKING TELEGRAM
Some of the people were brilliant mind types. Escaped, survived the other world wars. Living testaments, living history. Some of the bodies had been in nursing homes and something had harvested their organs.
"Spleen's gone; otherwise just sleeping."
"Grab that one and let's go."
The Science women wouldn't, couldn't just stop observing and taking notes. Instant notification. Racing to stop the exchanges. One lover held the binoculars in front of Diane's eyes, the other's husband turned her by the shoulders. "See that rumble cloud of dust..."
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