Deus Ex Machina

‘War has no more room for monsters. We all bear the sins of the Devil. Pray for peace, dream of it, yearn for it but all the while despise all that it represents. A world of pure utter fantasy.’

A lone woman stood leaning against the window sill, basking in the cool winter breeze. She had golden blonde hair, a half fringe and a long and slender ponytail. Her eyes were of a bright bluish purple with a face fair as the motherland’s bright white snow.

Her luscious silken hair danced with the rhythm of the wind, reflecting the sunlight in a small sparkle of glitter. It was like a tassel flailing around, carefree and full of freedom.

As she basked in the surroundings, her ears listened to the reverberations of the bustling city below. The sounds of restaurants and people catching up in cafes, the loud hammering of pedestrians rushing to work and the sound of happy children playing as the playful birds chirped above.

It was a peace like no other, a feeling of bliss that is inescapable. Yet it all felt wrong to the woman. There was something missing. Some important thing that she was forgetting.

*DING*

A church bell rang, and its deafening choir of brass metal drowned all sounds below. This sensation gave the woman a clear realisation, one she wished to forget.

“Anastasia, dear?”

Ana quickly turned towards the soft voice of the elderly woman behind her. The woman was her mother. She was holding a large bushel of flowers of all types. Its size completely covered her face.

Ana’s voice buckles, and her legs grow weak.

“Moth… How? This can’t–”

Ana’s eyes were wide as cold sweat ran down her back. She tightly held onto the window sill, clinging onto it for dear life. The truth spoke to her in plain and brutal words.

‘My Mother is dead.’

*Static*

[I KILLED HER!]

*Static*

Ana’s legs slipped as she fell to the floor, lashing out desperately.

“It’s not what you think. It was not me. You have to believe me… I wouldn’t want this… not this–”

Ana’s eyes looked straight towards the assortment of flowers. The longer she stared at it, the more intense the colours appeared to be. It was an invisible arm that slowly grasped at her throat. The cold sensation that strangled her.

Ana could not bear the nauseating feeling anymore as she forcibly vomited.

‘War is not a necessity; it is our culture. A theatre that is beautiful and vile.’

A set of hands burst from the flower.

Ana closed her eyes, startled, but the arms simply embraced her gently. Ana was motionless, her mouth open, dripping with her own filth and eyes that reflected nothing back.

Her mother began to talk with a voice that was both filled with honey and the bitter taste of cyanide.

“There. There… aw, my little lamb. A Sergeant at just 14 years old. I was young, too; we all make mistakes. Look at you now. A Major at just 25 years old. A genius like no other.”

“Innocent people died, mum. You died… I just followed orders. I did everything for you… and yet.”

“None of that matters. We will be waiting here to congratulate all that you do in life. You are just doing what you are made to do. There is no shame in that.”

“Mum…”

Ana’s mum’s hands began to grip tightly, pushing her face deeper into the flower. Her voice was now mixed with more people, each overlapping with each other.

“Congratulations, Anastasia!”

Congratulations, Major!”

“Congratulations! Boss!”

Congratulations!”

Congratulations!”

*DING*

“I’m sorry everyone.”

***

Ana woke up with her mouth filled with mud and blood. The sound of rain could be heard clanking on top of the sheets of metal that were slowly crushing her.

“Ahhhhh!”

Ana must do something fast, or she will suffocate under mud and steel. Yet, in the back of her mind, a horrible idea slowly seeped in. An idea that gave her a vile smile on her face.

‘If I end it all now, then this play will finally be over.’

Ana basked in her potential demise until a small piece of metal slid out of the way due to the rain. It was a glimmer of light, a hole big enough for her to crawl out.

*Static*

[MURDER!]

*Static*

“Damnit! Damnit, all!”

Ana emerged from the hole, breathing in the cold, damp air. She had forgotten the taste of air, the sweetness to it. The sweetness of life.

Her body was left bruised, and her right eye was closed shut with blood streaming from it. The grandiose officer’s military uniform of navy blue, red and gold was now torn and smeared in mud.

Ana stood up as a scene of destruction unfolded around her. It was hell on earth. Fires raged even with the persistent rain and thousands upon thousands of metallic contraptions strewn across the battlefield. Hills of metal polluted the surroundings in a graveyard of advanced quadruped mechs the size of a tank.

The scrapheap below Ana was no mere mountain of metal but a towering six-legged landship the size of a large battleship. It was equipped with armaments that dotted the beast like a porcupine with a giant rail cannon that extended towards the heavens. Despite all the firepower and size, it was consumed and broken apart bit by bit, reducing it to just a useless piece of scrap metal.

One of these smaller mechs stood motionless behind Ana. It had a sleek design of well-fitted armour and inner working gears. It was well armoured and agile, with the structure saving weight in areas that were not needed. The main hull used angled plates of metal that resembled a hard carapace. In addition, it was armed with a dual tri-barrel 30mm rail minigun capable of penetrating any modern armour of the time.

This was a piece of technological marvel of pure terror.

Ana cautiously walked away, but before she could take a step, the war machine started to whirr back to life.

*BRRRRR*

The symphony of its metallic hum echoed throughout the landscape. Its singular red eye turned on, painting Ana in an ominous red glow. She should be feeling dread, but all that she feels is confusion.

Ana’s only good eye turned red in a series of pixelated patterns. In her vision, she saw a wounded officer standing alone atop rubble of steel. This was a clear reflection of herself from the perspective of the war machine.

“What is happening to me?”