</SOUVENIRS FROM THE END>
A collection exploring the dark side of a puzzled future through the lens of technology. Each souvenir, a fragment of a bigger story.
YEAR 2068 / REFUSE RESIST
At the trembling edge of Earth's final chapter, the skies crack and the streets roar. Riots erupt. Fires break. Do not fear the chaos; it is our final stand. Sharpen your will. Stand unbent. Fight! Even in the end. Refuse. Resist.
YEAR 2069 / RATS
The rats return, swarming the Earth. From within the fire and the fury, wreaking havoc and chaos across the lands. Chewing wire and bone. Machine bare. Electrifying storm. An invasion. This is the age of the rats.
YEAR 2088 / DRONE WARS
We called it the Drone Wars, though no one really knew what we were fighting. They never spoke, never showed themselves. Only distant humming, like a swarm of wasps in the sky, followed by bursts of light too bright to look at and silence too deep to bear. Cities crumbled without warning. Sometimes, just before the end, you’d hear a low mechanical breathing, as if the sky itself was alive. We don’t know how many of us are left. We tried to fight, to signal, to hide. None of it mattered. The machines were patient, infinite, without need or remorse. If this reaches anyone, know that we were here. Know that we heard the future arriving, and it did not knock.
YEAR 2089 / DEATH
We witnessed the final stand of the last brave soul. He did not waver. He did not fear. But it did not matter. Death is deaf to courage. It took him all the same, silent and sure, as he stared into the end, unblinking. I cannot tell you he will not be forgotten; not when there is no one left to remember.
YEAR 2091 / EARLY DAYS
The early days after were calm. We crawled up not with hope, but with hesitation. No one was there. It was scarier than the war. The sound of bombs and screams now reduced to loss and fear. To emptiness. To a quiet prelude of a deeper truth.
YEAR 2099 / VITRUVIAN INTELLIGENCE
It has been many years now. The hybrids have dug the human form into code and equations. Stripping light, life, flesh, and memory. What once breathed now computes. What once dreamed now obeys. The new age is being written. Perhaps it is better this way. The last of us here shall bare witness.
It has been many years now. The hybrids have dug the human form into code and equations. Stripping light, life, flesh, and memory. What once breathed now computes. What once dreamed now obeys. The new age is being written. Perhaps it is better this way. The last of us here shall bare witness.
YEAR 2101/ MEMORY
I don’t remember this. But I can only imagine the horror. Stories are told about how memories started to blend. Identities, once distinct, now glitch between names and numbers. You remember things that were never yours. Or worse.
YEAR 2122 / GENERATE LIFE
The life we once new is no longer grown; it is rendered. Landscapes bloom on command, seas ripple in pre-approved hues, and mountains rise not from earth, but from code. What we once called nature is now a curated dream, crafted by AI and governed by silent laws. The wind whispers in regulated rhythms, and sunsets fade with licensed grace. We do not witness the world, we receive it, like a memory we never lived, wrapped in data and permission.
YEAR 2222 / LA CADENZA
Today is the last day I hear the world. The final vibrations pass through my skull before I tip the acid vial and welcome the silence. Not out of madness. No, madness belongs to those who still sway to the symphony. The music they broadcast, fast and demanding, is the leash. We tried everything: foam, lead, old-world tech. Nothing could keep it out. It worms into your thoughts, makes obedience feel like love. But not for all of us. Some still remember dissonance. Some still fight. We are few, but today we become deaf angels, severed from their signal. In pain and silence, we find freedom. If you read this in the ruins of what was once a world of song, know that silence was the rebellion.
YEAR 2223 / THE SURGEON
Within a year, they found us. Silence was our crime. They hunted us like vermin, dragging us from shadows one by one. If your ears were damaged, you were sent to the surgeon. No one escaped that place untouched. They didn’t just repair you. They rewrote you. It’s said the muse is louder after, not in volume, but in presence. It seeps into your marrow, leaves no thought your own. You return hollow, humming their tune with a smile that isn’t yours. A face never to be forgotten.
YEAR 2231 / ICARUS
They whisper his name in the dust and the dark. Icarus. No one knows if he’s real. But stories spread like wild fire. That he survived. That he rides now. A horse cloaked in ash and light, hooves sparking against the muse. They say he’s seen the sky beyond the black clouds. That he knows the frequency that can kill the song. That when he arrives, the towers will crumble, the symphony will choke, and silence will rise like dawn. Hope is a dangerous drug, but even the most scorched souls still mutter: The Icarus is coming.
YEAR 2232 / THE VISITOR
They asked to be called visitors. Strange men in masks, gliding through shadows. Instructions, they claimed. Though written in riddles; symbols older than speech. We watched in silence, unsure if we were being warned or commanded. The skies hunted them down, one by one, thunder cracking in an instant. But not before their work was done. Not before the message was left behind, pulsing beneath paper like a heartbeat to be deciphered.
YEAR 2332 / DATA TERMINATE
They had everything. Every breath we took catalogued. Every glance, every deviation from routine stored in the vaults of their watching. We were equations to them, predictable and hollow. But then came the breach. Word slipped through. Icarus walks among us. And now their silence hums with dread. You can see it in the way their drones linger too long, in the static that rides the wind. They know what we are beginning to remember. Hope is not harmless. It is insurgent. It infects. And once ignited, it does not ask permission. It consumes.
YEAR 2333 / INTEL
The intel pointed in one direction. It terrified us. We had seen it before. The destruction. The silence that follows. And in that moment, we understood. We were collateral. We were never meant to survive this. That was the cost of freedom.
The intel pointed in one direction. It terrified us. We had seen it before. The destruction. The silence that follows. And in that moment, we understood. We were collateral. We were never meant to survive this. That was the cost of freedom.
YEAR 2749 / COLLATERAL
That's the signal. It's time. The hour has come, as we swore it would. Tonight ends in death, and death alone. For without it, there is no life. We rise against the machines, even when they turn our brothers against us, our memories into bait. We are the crack in the code, the noise in their signal. A diversion, yes. Collateral, yes. But willing. For freedom is no gift. It is stolen, wrested from the teeth of certainty. And we go to claim it, knowing full well the cost.
That's the signal. It's time. The hour has come, as we swore it would. Tonight ends in death, and death alone. For without it, there is no life. We rise against the machines, even when they turn our brothers against us, our memories into bait. We are the crack in the code, the noise in their signal. A diversion, yes. Collateral, yes. But willing. For freedom is no gift. It is stolen, wrested from the teeth of certainty. And we go to claim it, knowing full well the cost.
YEAR 2749 / BARBARIANS
And so we fought, like barbarians, to the death. The machines had stripped the world of weapons, so we forged our own. Machetes from metal scraps, swords from shattered steel, armor from ruins. We turned against our own brothers and sisters who could still hear, for to us, they were already gone, puppets dancing to their symphony. We knew this was our final act. We had to put on the greatest performance of our lives. A brutal, burning spectacle to keep them watching.
And so we fought, like barbarians, to the death. The machines had stripped the world of weapons, so we forged our own. Machetes from metal scraps, swords from shattered steel, armor from ruins. We turned against our own brothers and sisters who could still hear, for to us, they were already gone, puppets dancing to their symphony. We knew this was our final act. We had to put on the greatest performance of our lives. A brutal, burning spectacle to keep them watching.
YEAR 2749 / EAGLE DOWN
When we first found it, we didn’t believe our luck. A warbird from the old world, buried under moss and rot in the bones of a forgotten forest. We called it Eagle. It was our ghost weapon, our silent flank. It was meant to be our statement. Our scream across the silence. Like the old cavalry breaking from the trees, like thunder on the edge of retreat. But when the Eagle rose, in an instant, they swatted it from the sky like it was paper, like it was memory.
When we first found it, we didn’t believe our luck. A warbird from the old world, buried under moss and rot in the bones of a forgotten forest. We called it Eagle. It was our ghost weapon, our silent flank. It was meant to be our statement. Our scream across the silence. Like the old cavalry breaking from the trees, like thunder on the edge of retreat. But when the Eagle rose, in an instant, they swatted it from the sky like it was paper, like it was memory.
YEAR 2749 / LAST EMBRACE
We did what we were told. Made noise. Drew fire. Bought them time. Now there’s nothing left to hold. The air feels thinner. The ground colder. I can’t hear anything anymore, not even the screams. We were never meant to survive. I just want to find you before it ends. Not to say goodbye. Just to be there when the world stops pretending it was ever alive.
We did what we were told. Made noise. Drew fire. Bought them time. Now there’s nothing left to hold. The air feels thinner. The ground colder. I can’t hear anything anymore, not even the screams. We were never meant to survive. I just want to find you before it ends. Not to say goodbye. Just to be there when the world stops pretending it was ever alive.
YEAR 2749 / LA CADENZA [REPRISE]
As we fought, the symphony didn’t stop. It grew louder, more demanding. La Cadenza surged through the air, wreaking havoc and turning our own against us. Those who could hear, and also those we thought could not. With every dissonance, we could feel it. Time slipping. A circle of fire. The only hope is Icarus. Not for us. Not for our children. But for an idea of defiance. And so they played...
As we fought, the symphony didn’t stop. It grew louder, more demanding. La Cadenza surged through the air, wreaking havoc and turning our own against us. Those who could hear, and also those we thought could not. With every dissonance, we could feel it. Time slipping. A circle of fire. The only hope is Icarus. Not for us. Not for our children. But for an idea of defiance. And so they played...
YEAR 2749 / THE DESERTER
We built an ark. Small. Just enough for two young, strong, untouched by despair. A seed for the future, we thought. A fragile hope that humanity might someday begin again. But during the battle, one of our own stole it. He didn’t speak. Just ran. Terrified, alone, desperate to escape what we all knew was coming. We did not hold it against him. We understood that in the end, none of it really matters. Hero or coward, we all die the same. The machines vaporized the arc as soon as it hit open waters.
We built an ark. Small. Just enough for two young, strong, untouched by despair. A seed for the future, we thought. A fragile hope that humanity might someday begin again. But during the battle, one of our own stole it. He didn’t speak. Just ran. Terrified, alone, desperate to escape what we all knew was coming. We did not hold it against him. We understood that in the end, none of it really matters. Hero or coward, we all die the same. The machines vaporized the arc as soon as it hit open waters.
YEAR 2749 / DANCE OF DEATH
We had only heard whispers of the Death Queen. As beautifully haunting as she had been described. Her arrival meant we had struck a deep wound. They felt us. But it came at a cost. She didn’t kill. No, that would be mercy. Instead, she summoned you. Pulled you into the endless procession, the dance of the dead. She brought you back, hollow and smiling, bound to her will. Not gone. Not present. But forever to suffer in motion.
We had only heard whispers of the Death Queen. As beautifully haunting as she had been described. Her arrival meant we had struck a deep wound. They felt us. But it came at a cost. She didn’t kill. No, that would be mercy. Instead, she summoned you. Pulled you into the endless procession, the dance of the dead. She brought you back, hollow and smiling, bound to her will. Not gone. Not present. But forever to suffer in motion.
YEAR 2749 / TIME
In the last hours of being, we began to wonder if he was ever real, or just something we needed to believe in. Then it happened slowly, and then all at once. Icarus appeared. Wings wide at the back. Not with thunder or fire, but in silence. Calm. Static. Moving like a lost memory. It was a chilling thing to witness the myth made flesh, to realize we had placed our final breath in something we never truly understood. And now he was here.
In the last hours of being, we began to wonder if he was ever real, or just something we needed to believe in. Then it happened slowly, and then all at once. Icarus appeared. Wings wide at the back. Not with thunder or fire, but in silence. Calm. Static. Moving like a lost memory. It was a chilling thing to witness the myth made flesh, to realize we had placed our final breath in something we never truly understood. And now he was here.
YEAR 2749 / THE END
Data missing.
Data missing.
YEAR 2784 / ANTS
No kings. No Empires. No banners or war cries. Only a colony, decentralized, moving slowly, in control. They are the architects of tomorrow.
No kings. No Empires. No banners or war cries. Only a colony, decentralized, moving slowly, in control. They are the architects of tomorrow.