Time's End

The city extended for kilometers. It had been built up along the shores of an ocean and extended inland rising with the land to the base of high mountains in the interior. It had been built by an intelligent race. It was empty. Not a trace of life, no sound to break the stillness. No animals, birds, insects, plants… nothing. It lay there as if preserved, mummified, by some ancient god. A thick layer of dust lay over everything, some buildings nearly buried in the brown-gray silt. Others rising from the earth, tall spires reaching for the stars. Sections had been destroyed, torn down as if the same god that now preserved it had reached down a giant hand and in some heedless rage ripped out entire blocks. The dust lay upon the destruction, hiding it, beneath a veil, as if the city was embarrassed to show its face to the heavens.

And well it might be. For it had been a great city. Great buildings and roadways. Green parks perfectly maintained along the river banks. Massive libraries where the science of the ages had been kept. Great philosophical works stored. History, music, and verse hidden away in its depths. Works long unread by the inhabitants. Forgotten in their rush for prosperity, possessions, power.

They forgot, if they ever knew, that life was sacred. That all life was equal, that sex, race, color, and religious differences were nothing. They learned to hate. Nothing was left, except the buildings. A testament to the insanity of man.