Thursday, July 12, 2012

Bathroom Monologue: Perfect Ruin

The golems knew little about their ruins. They retained information poorly, and had been at a loss for order ever since the returning dinosaurs ate their creators. The returning dinosaurs did not eat the golems because the golems were made out of rocks and hair.

The dinosaurs ignored their temple, since it was made of still more rocks. It was The Apocalypse of Skyfire that ruined it, with the meteors and meteorites, and very little fire, and very little visible sky. The golems tried and failed to rebuild the pillars and ceilings for several hundred years, before The Apocalypse of Demons, which scorched the entire place and destroyed two thirds of their otherwise amortal ranks.

It was the devastation that led them to finally being useful again. Many golems lost limbs to the wicked demons, and went about trying to rebuild themselves in order to rebuild the ruins. Except golems have never been any good at self-determination, and one golem missing one arm linked itself to the remains of twelve of its dismembered kin. This did not spawn a nightmarish granite caterpillar, but rather a rippling wall of loyal minerals.

This golem-that-was-thirteen crossed a golem-that-was-twenty, and five golems-that-were-five became a disorderly link-of-twenty-five. None of them were decent architects, but they were damnably difficult to get around. Golem after broken golem built upon each other, linking or simply climbing until they formed a consenting dome over the ruins.

Then? They stood still. It was the single greatest event in golem autonomy ever known. And while it seems petty compared to their biological competitors, it’s kept their ruins in perfect condition for three apocalypses since. Nothing’s managed to mess up their beloved property any worse.

1 comment:

  1. Good one. You know you write more flashes a week than many do in a month!

    There's a narrative tone here that occurs in a few of your stories that's recognisably Wiswellian.


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