After the war (Story)

War has broken out.

Barbarism has bent to reason and the next few days will be hell.

The missiles are the interlocutors between those who have claimed to be the ones who decide the future of humanity.

From the top of the skyscraper where you live, Frank, you can see those lethal arrows that, as emissaries of death, fall on the city, causing death and destruction, including yours.

While in his taxi, Jacob has seconds to contemplate the tide of people screaming and running in terror, before disappearing disintegrated in the air, accompanying them, after the explosion of a nuclear warhead.

Ronnie is now experiencing what he has done so many times in video games, wishing it was real but now regretting those thoughts.

The antiaircraft and missile defenses that for years proclaimed to be safe have not been effective, since they were technologically superior.

That they could counteract any attack and safeguard everything, and that the response would be devastating for anyone who tried.

It would take only a few minutes for the latest generation of weapons to deal with the daredevil who would have defied them.

Vanity lies not only with those who strut around dressed in the latest fashion or with the most modern gadgets, but also with those who discriminate against those they see as inferior, believing them to be easy-going worms.

The world will no longer be a peaceful place, nor will nature be a corner where one can take refuge to escape from the cosmopolitan life that obscures basic instincts and makes man an alienated automaton from the large corporations that not only manufacture banalities to please artificial lifestyles where feelings are not important, but also finance the terror that is now being experienced.

The civilian deaths will not be counted as war casualties but will be collateral damage that was foreseen but did not quantify the hope for peace as an alternative, after all they are only important to maintain the system through work and taxes.

From the bunkers built to protect themselves, the cowards who are the culprits of the hecatomb direct the pieces, as if this whole disaster were a board of some game, they invent strategies to spread more death and terror.

There is no compassion in them; they are merchants who, when everything passes, will realize that they have made a bad deal and are left in ruins.

Technology has enslaved man and like a snake charmer has made him feel that he is in control, by exacerbating his ego and giving him the power of a God, without knowing how to be or being prepared for that.

After the war perhaps nothing remains, perhaps man will become extinct like the dinosaurs and the earth will be transformed into an uninhabited planet like Tuesday or Venus.

Perhaps those who survive will return to being cave dwellers with greater technological knowledge but without materials to develop them or will undergo some Darwinian metamorphosis to adapt to the new conditions.

The truth is that after the war, if man manages to transcend, he will no longer be the same, but he will still be the same predator that has impregnated the history of death and destruction.

It is the generational curse that is in his DNA.