No basis, no story, no point.

Darkness.

Light was always a rare thing this far underground. There were halogen lamps hanging from the ceiling, amongst the stray cables and dirt that had collected over the years. Most of them appeared to be broken, some hung down from their sockets, none of them showed any sign that they'd be useable ever again. Even if they were still intact it was doubtful whether there was any juice left in the transformer.

The room was eerily still, like a tomb that had been forgotten over the years. The air musty and thick, condensation clinging to any inanimate objects it could find. More cables on the floor, a slithering thick mass that would enjoy nothing more than to trip over anyone who disturbed their rest. All of them led to one place, the screens of the further most wall behind the five tall chairs. They too had seen better days.

Static filled the air as one of the screens, the middle one, automatically switched on. A soft humming came from the screen as it searched through its many channels to find something to replace the snow with.

Channel 1, channel 2, searching, channel 35.

Images from past lives flickered past as the channels jumped back and forth. Images that held some connection to the events that had led up to this 'apocalypse'.

A rocket blasting off into space, millions of people dying due to cruelty, people who achieved unreachable goals, the first steps on the moon, vehicles that sped on a track, men who stood up for their beliefs, men who suffered for their beliefs. Pride. Prejudice. Hatred. Love. Intelligence. Ignorance. Everything human.

A twisted shrine to what humans did to themselves, the good and the bad. A light show of horrifying images being replaced with their opposites. It started off slowly at first but the images built up their momentum and sped with a furious pace over the screen. Sounds for every image filled the once quiet room and echoed down the long metal corridor, only to die out eventually. Just like everything else.

"I have a dream, WE KNOW THAT THE AIM OF THESE MEN WOULD BE TO START WAR, Glory lies in the attempt to reach one's goal, one giant leap for mankind, the baby isn't yours, the president has just been shot, they think it's all over."

Then it stopped. The myriad of white and black ants returned to the screen. Still there was the buzz, but that too died down. When the room was completely quiet again and the only light source came from the one screen, throwing dancing shadows on the wall, there was a faint sound. Someone was coughing.

"We created them."

Through the snow storm of static on the screen a face started to appear. A middle-aged man. His hair was cut short, grey - white in some place. His face was long and chiselled into a worried expression, emphasising the wrinkles that lingered on his forehead. White stubble shadowed his chin and they rasped when he drew his hand roughly over his chin.

"They are our creations. We saw a need and a way to fill it. Look where it took us. We didn't understand. We were so foolish."

His face broke into a quick smile before returning to the gloomy expression he had worn. Now and again he'd turn and look over his shoulder, giving any spectator a view of the room. The same room. Some of the lamps worked back then, one of them flickered on and off. Everything looked blue but that could've been an added effect from the halogen lamps.