text: I awoke with a start, in pain, in the dark. Everywhere, pain. The biggest aches came from my right side and the inside of my mouth. I forced myself to roll over and try to spit out the blood. Like syrup, it slowly oozed out and gave the stone a slick, black coating. I wrestled my body into an upright position, sitting on my knees. Through my gaping mouth I took a long breath. Only now did I notice the rain. The heavens had decided to wash us away, our empire dissolving like dust across a window. I was humiliated as God pissed on me. I sat there, drenched and frustrated and in pain for a while. It might have been minutes or seconds or hours. My armor constricted my limbs and weighed me down. What an irony is it that a device created to protect the wearer and advance his strength anchored him to his humiliation. As I sat, I stewed. I pondered the post-modern foolishness and corporate greed and false security that we existed under and within. We had conquered a galaxy filled with strange and wonderful life, and in our pretend fantasy we lived in peace. We lived in peace and security and harmony; we made a country whose borders meant safety except for the unsafe. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I discarded my bracers, first the left arm, then the right. I tore off the chestplate, with a pure exertion of my will. I similarly removed my right pauldron, and my left. I was about to hurl it away, as I had before, but I stopped. It was decorated with a coat of arms, my family. I had painted it myself as a child when my father wore it to battle. Now, I pondered this. This was much of my identity. It was the old way, the way that lay in shambles around me, the way that had been demolished. I tucked it under my arm as I attempted to stand. I braced myself along the wing of a crashed starship, whose thruster had caused a small flame to start despite the rain. I stared at the will-o-wisp for a moment before I heaved with all my might to stand. For a couple of seconds, I was whole again. I held my own, before surrendering once again to the rain, falling forward in the mud. I exclaimed in my frustration. I moved myself to where I had been, on my knees, and from there I let loose my feelings, in a vulgar display that we would have hated before. I breathed in. I breathed out. Then, I tried again. This time, baring my emotion to the world before my attempt to stand. Urging myself on, I stood, shakily, before staggering forward a few steps. A low, crumbling wall supported me. The rain slowed. I took another step, holding the wall as the sky began to lighten. I stumbled and caught myself, as the sun forced the clouds apart. The now soft rain washed the mud and blood from my face, and in one hand I gripped my family tight. The other held the wall. As the rain wished itself goodbye, I stepped forward towards the beacon that lit the sky on fire, making the starship’s flame look like a cinder. With shaky steps and deep breaths I let go of the wall and straightened my posture. My back soared despite the ache in my side. Maybe I could meet some other survivors, and we could begin anew.