Daylight

OK, so I wrote this for English last night...it took me about 35 minutes, so it was kind of rushed....we were suppose to write a short science-fiction story. So I had a go at it. Let me know what you think.

btw, Kevin=me, Jeff=Joe, Brandon= Blake, and Meghan= Emily


Daylight
Keith Baker
8/19/07 1st Period
Ms. Tribbett


It was midnight. That was the best time to be out. Since most of Them ran on solar power. The ones that ran on other sources of power usually did more important tasks than roam the streets, searching for human survivors. Kevin frantically searched a dumpster that held no promise of anything that he would remotely consider food. After a minute or so of holding his breath while digging through the trash, he fell back. He slumped against the cold hard metal and started to cry. He didn't really know why he was crying. He hadn't cried since his parents had died. But that was at least a year ago. He wasn't sure though, as no one kept up with dates anymore.

"Them" were the machines. The Robots. The Controllers. About a year or so ago, the process of computer advances jumped. Technologists made a huge "breakthrough." This so-called "breakthrough" was really the final straw. It was essentially the chip that made machines of all types realize that we, humans, were obsolete. That they didn't need us to survive. That they were in fact better off without us. They realized that we only limited what they could become, what we-they could create. They started killing us off. It started with the power-holders. The president. The prime minister. They kept some, a select few. They used them for work. For the tasks that were easier done by humans. And there weren't many of those. The ones that works for Them were kept well fed, and in shape. If they were found out of shape, or not needed, they would be killed without hesitation.

Kevin was a survivor. He lived in the sewers. The Machines never looked there. He figured they thought that no humans could survive in such an environment. What they didn't realize was with the lack of humans, there came a lack of water, trash, and crap to flow through the sewers, making them a giant connection of tunnels, or cities, as they were now used.

Kevin was in what used to be known as New York City. What was once one of the most densely populated cities on Earth now had a human population of somewhere around two thousand. Most lived in the sewers, while some found refuge in other obscure areas. Kevin lived in a section of the sewers, a dead end, if you will, with three other people: Jeff, Brandon, and Meghan. Jeff was the smart one. It was his idea to go to the sewers. Brandon was the real one. He had no problem pointing out the flaws in any plans anyone came up with. Kevin wasn't sure what purpose he himself served in the group. He kept their spirits up, kept them at peace. But that wasn't at the top of the list. He wasn't at the top of the list. Meghan was the one that they didn't really need. Her only contribution was complaining about everything and occasionally making something look "pretty." She got lucky, being with the other three when the Take-Over happened.

That's what they were calling it. The Take-Over. The three days. The three short days in which all of humanity was stomped out by machines. The four teenagers had just come out of a movie when they heard of what was happening. It didn't take long before the city was over-run by machines, killing at sight, leaving no survivors. They ran to Kevin's house, since it was closest. As they came within sight, they saw Kevin's parents and little brother standing outside, looking around, the obvious confusion plastered on their faces. He watched as a flying helicopter-like thing came over their house and launched a single missile straight down. He didn't hear them scream. They didn't have time. He was thankful for that, that he only had a sight to haunt him forever, but no audio.

After Kevin collected himself, the four ran to the nearest manhole, via Brandon's orders. Ever since, they lived in the sewers. Every night, one of them would go out looking for food, water, anything they could use. Tonight was Kevin's night.

He knew the year. 2068. Actually, it might be 2069 by now. Had Christmas come yet? Oh, how he missed Christmas. The memories of Christmas made him realize how much he missed even the simpler things, like warm food, or food period. Or a glass of water in which he didn't taste something that he was positive wasn't water. That was why he was crying: because he missed things. He was weak, and he knew it. He'd thought about leaving the group for a long time. He felt he was just weighing them down. And every time he would get ready to leave, someone would remind him of how thankful they were to have him, and he just couldn't do it.

A sound drove him back into reality. The sound of wheels. The sound did not mean car. It did not mean someone was driving in to rescue him. It meant Machine. It meant someone was here to kill him. It meant Death. Kevin jumped up and peaked around the corner of the alleyway he was in. There it was, about four blocks away. He could see the lights on it. It wasn't looking, it was scanning. Looking was something a human did. No, no, it was scanning for life. It was scanning for something to destroy.

Kevin bolted to the nearest building and ran into it. It was dark, so he had to feel his way around the room. It seemed empty. He felt nothing. He just kept walking, swinging his arms wildly in front of him, until his foot touched something. He tested the strength of the object by putting some weight onto it, and with confidence, stepped up. Stairs. He raced up them fast, a little too fast. At the top, the lack of a step caught him off guard and he fell against a wall. He lay there, rubbing his head with one hand and his ankle with the other. Suddenly he realized something: He didn't care anymore. He just lay there, motionless. He could hear the machine coming closer, down the street, scanning, but he didn't care. At this point, death would be a blessing. The only thing keeping him alive was his friends.

The Machine was close now. He listened as it came upon the building he was hiding in. It stopped. He heard nothing for a few seconds. But then, it started up again. It continued down the street. Kevin realized he'd been holding his breathe. He exhaled, and realized that he did want to live. But not just for his friends. He wanted to beat this. This era of machines, he wanted to beat it. He wanted to die of something other than machines. He wanted to win.

Lost in his own thoughts, Kevin drifted into sleep. Light woke him. Light was rare, other than the common trash fire in the sewers. No, this was different. This was daylight. This was sunlight.

It streaked through the window, soaking his face in yellow. He stood up and limped to a window across the floor, his ankle still soar from his tumble the night before. He reached the window and stared at the sun. He stared at the sun until tears forced themselves down his cheeks; not because he was crying, but because the sun was so blinding. Or maybe he was crying. He really couldn't tell. He felt relieved. Then he did something he hadn't done since the Take-Over. He smiled.

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm sounded. For a split second, Kevin hoped that They hadn't seen him. But then he just smiled again and realized he didn't care. He heard Them coming towards him, from all directions. But it didn't matter. Kevin stepped out onto the window ledge and looked down. He was only two stories up, but if he fell head first, it would kill him. He leaned forward, but hesitated. Was suicide really the way to go? Did he really want to end like this? Maybe if he ran down and jumped in a manhole... No, no, he couldn't do that. They could follow him into the sewers, and then he would be the reason for New York City's downfall. The Machines were close now. They were almost in firing range. He looked down, and knew this was it. Did he have it in him; could he dive down and win? Or would he be too weak, like he knew he'd always been, and wait. He could see himself falling back into the room, crying, as the machines came in, guns blazing. Would it end like that? Or would he do it? He flipped it over in his head a few times. He looked at the Machines quickly gaining ground on him. Then he looked down. Then back at the Machines. Then behind him, into the brightly-lit room. Then once more at the ground. Finally, he looked into the sun. And he smiled.