Saturday, March 8, 2014
Dispatch: Omega -1
As of late I have noticed that I have become incredibly poor, well not starving or out of a shelter just monetarily starved. My family and I have no contact with other people. The Thurgs sometimes pay me a visit but not often, they have learned to make far superior technology. My truck broke down about two years ago, not that it would matter because they don’t sell gas anymore. The Thurgs have taken over the automotive industry and only make engines that run off of anything you can put in to it. I went in town to day to see about buying one. The sales men (all Thurgs by the way) quoted me a price that seemed pretty low. But seeing as how I don’t make any money, I couldn't secure a loan and had to give up that Idea. I had hitched a ride in with a Thurg I knew but I had to walk back, about a twenty-mile or so walk. On the path there were a lot of people, some with real business, some just out wandering around weeding and planting at random, mindless.
Labels:
advanced,
aliens,
Santa,
science fiction,
short story,
takeover,
technology
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