We will smile


Yes, I know.

I know that at first glance, this may seem like a simple Skype photo, a pixilated, slightly-blurry image of reality, but it is more.

It is so much more. 

Just think, Kaitlin. One day, when we are old and gray, we will return to this photo on our Facebook timelines. It will be the first time we’ve been on Facebook in years, as we took a brief hiatus from the internet to “find ourselves” and live life to the fullest. No matter that we lost everyone we’ve ever loved in the End Times! We will hide in our dusty basement together as the world burns down around us. There is nothing to fear here! The internet loves us. And the internet won’t take delight in devouring our hearts like the zombies would.

The internet never eats hearts. Never.

Many will knock on our door, begging to come in for just a moment, to send out an email to see if any of their relatives survived the chiming of the Infinity Bell, but we will turn them away. After all, we know what all humans really are: Satan’s concubines, his vile demons sent straight from the underworld to destroy us. “You’re mad!”, they’ll scream, “You’re human, too.”. “Not anymore, we’re not”, we’ll chuckle under our breaths. We have transcended life and all it’s pointlessness, and they can’t charm us with their hellspeak.

A crash from upstairs!

What could it be? We fortified every entrance to our dilapidated home until it was a verifiable stronghold, a modern day Fort Knox. Who could have penetrated our mighty walls? Silently, we creep up the stairs to the main level. In the corner, shivering on a pile of broken glass is a college-aged man. Though he appears to have missed a few meals, he still glows with vitality, the aura of youth that left us so long ago.

“Please!” , he says, “Please, you have to help me! My entire family is dead! There is no one left for me to turn to!”

“Yes.”, we reply, “And no one left to mourn you.”

A dazzling, white light fills the room, and we tear the flesh off our bodies to reveal our true forms.

The man’s scream, shrill and bloodcurdling,  resonates off the dirty walls, but we take no note. We take no note the same way an obnoxious person takes no note of the fact that nobody cares about their opinions, and goes on talking about last night’s episode of The O’Reilly Factor anyway.

And then it is done.

We retire to our basement once more, to wait out the destruction of the world. The man’s voice carries down the stairs. He was stronger than the others, and he still clings to life even now, when his soul has fled from his body. Soon, he will be silent, an empty shell of the bold man he once was. But for now, his whimpering cries, that most ancient of lullabies, will sing us to sleep.

The last thing we see before our minds enter the dark is this picture of ourselves from so long ago.

Yes, as the world is rendered into ash by Thanos, we will return to this picture, and we will smile.



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