Short Stories From Out There

The New World, Preserved

I tell you this, chronicler, so you'll understand. I didn't do it for revenge. I didn't do it for anyone. I did it for us.

Yes, he conquered us all. He killed many. He killed my mother, my father, my uncles, my aunts. He killed my cousins and their children. And my baby. He killed many, many more. But he did it for the New World. He removed all the weak and the needy. He left only the best.

He took a shine to me and made me one of his. I lived with his women. I became one of his women. We were the finest. Each place he conquered, he took a few of us for himself.

I fell in love with him and our New World. I embraced it whole. I feel nothing for those from the Old World, my parents, and the rest. I hardly remember my baby or its weak crying or its neediness. This world feels better. This world isn't hurt. This world is light and joy and promise. We live for him and his dream. A wonderful world. One of strength and beauty and nothing else.

He decided to put children in us. He said they were a vessel for the future. He said they would be the best, the strongest, the most pleasing. He believed it. I realized it was the Old World creeping in. I had to stop it, so I did, with a simple bomb. Now, we can never be so weak as to be parents. And those children are spared having to watch us grow old and weak.

I am all that's left of us. You are an outsider. You can't understand. I am the future, and I have saved us all.

Long live our New World!