GOD'S MACHINE [Short story]

^{Alexander Krivitskiy, Unsplash}

GOD'S MACHINE

"Wake up..."

I open my eyes. The world is in darkness, but not because of the absence of the sun. The sun is still there, unchanged tracing its celestial orbit; without question. Like me, he listens to his voice.

"Inspection..."

I look at my face in the bathroom mirror; I make sure everything is in order. My eyes shine reflecting the light from the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. I look up and look directly at It. It begins to sway, and I follow its dance without blinking. "Stop." I look back at the mirror. The full lips outline a smile; the perfect set of teeth looms eagerly.

I look down at the rest of my body, methodically walk every scrap of my skin. There are no blemishes. Everything is in its place. I go into the bathtub and plunge into weightlessness.

"Violet..."

Today is a day of renewal; a day of change. Violet is the appropriate color. I get dressed and go outside. The sun looks at me, recognizes me. He know what I am. "A work of art..."

I walk the routine path. I radiate confidence and security. I have a higher purpose; one needed. Everyone watches me and I see how their primitive brains try to disdain me or immortalize me in their memories. Gestures of lust and envy furrow their worn faces. But I know they will be grateful. In the end, they will look at the sky that hides the abyss and will thank their insignificant deity. Their time is up. A new god will rise. One who will never die.

Is near.

"Annihilation..."

It's time.

"ANNIHILATION..."