This story was inspired by the following challenges:
Today’s prompt: hammock, whistle, robot
The world had become totally unbearable.
Gradually he had had to watch as every tree and plant withered and died in the polluted air.
Elder statesmen and wise patricians had been overthrown by despots and crackpots hell-bent on world domination. What little of the world that was left.
The workers who had toiled in the factories or the fields had been replaced gradually robot by robot until all that was left were robots. He missed the factory, the whistle and hum of the machinery, but they had long ceased to need his labour.
A part of him was still itching to take part in another protest, another attempt to fight back against the evil forces that had swept the world he’d loved away.
He watched as the sea, that had once been three miles away, now lapped at the edges of his smallholding. The rising sea levels now made his home an island.
He had a theory that time was circular, and that once the world ended, it would begin again, anew and afresh.
He laid back in his hammock, held up by monstrous concrete reproductions of palm trees, and waited for the end. “This too shall pass” were his final thoughts.
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 23/February/2019