The Monsters

It had been centuries since the last appearance of the beasts, as far as Roger knew. He'd lived with his family in the deep woods, they'd left the big cities preemptively, when his parents began noticing oddities in the cities. Bits of history disappearing, those who questioned quietly disappearing. Fearing what might be coming, and always having wanted to live in the country, they moved out. From what he'd heard, it had continued to get worse. He'd read *1984* and didn't want the life the people in those cities were now or would soon be living.

So they bought a machine and moved out.
*Machines*. That's all they were called. Relics of the War eons ago, but  even while inactive they were terrible to behold. Enormous, humanoid robots equipped with a dizzying array of weaponry. They had not been allowed the shack in the woods, outside the protective walls of the city, without demonstrating by their ownership of one that they were willing to help protect the city should the monstrous threat rise again. Nobody thought it would, though.

Roger loved his life. He loved his family. He had never touched that Machine, it sat in a large, cheaply constructed shelter, and had for as long as he could remember. Roger and his family lived off the land, in harmony with the land, in peace and freedom. They were happy, and never had to think about what had happened in that horrible war so long ago, or why nobody wanted to or was allowed to speak of it anymore. They had no idea that any reference to its specifics was being thoroughly erased from the history books, why nobody who had gone to fight in that war had returned, and they hadn't the faintest inkling of why. They simply had never had to care.


One day, something was wrong. Roger checked his favorite berry bush, and it was devoid of berries, lifeless and dead. Roger cried, but was comforted by his parents, and over time he learned to accept death as well as life, but in him grew a desire to protect life and the balance of nature.


One day, something was wrong. Roger awoke to the cry of a wounded deer. Tracking it down he discovered it had misstepped and broken a limb. He saw the pain in its eyes, knew that it knew it hadn't long to live. They ate venison that night, and Roger appreciated most of all what had gone into that meal.

One day, something was wrong. Roger saw in his parents' eyes the same look as the wounded deer had. By then he had a wife of his own, and children. It was their time. His parents left the cabin, walking serenely into the woods together. Roger never saw them again.

One day, something was wrong. Roger's oldest daughter was sick, and he hadn't the means to save her. Against his better judgment, he returned with her to the city. She was saved by the fantastic technology in the hospitals of the city, but he saw the same devious darkness there that his parents had. He learned that there was One Topic no one was to speak of. And soon he would know why.

One day, something was wrong. Roger awoke to nothing. Not the comforting rustle of trees, nor the welcome sound of birds. The beasts of the land and the birds of the air were nowhere to be found. The slower insects and creepy-crawlies were all moving in the same direction, as though all of nature knew something was coming and wished to be as far away as possible. Roger determined to find out what it was.


His children could tend the cottage perfectly well. Between them they'd rebuild every part of it at least twice, and improved on it as well. They could live off the land as well as he. However, with no animals, he had no meat. He ate fruits and berries but wished for protein. However, he survived, and on he walked.

Four days into his journey, he began hearing massive **crash**es, one after another. Presuming this to be his target, he tracked it down, and what he saw struck fear into his heart.


It was clearly alive, but not by any normal definition of the word. It had eyes, but looked at him uncomprehending, only hungering. Not for food, but for destruction. Roger had no idea where it had come from or what it was. He knew it was enormous and unnatural...or...perhaps *super*natural, being composed of a substance of nature, elemental but not created through the normal evolution of life. Its body shifted and changed constantly, simultaneously rotting and regenerating.

The Monsters had returned.


Roger sprinted all the way home, covering a distance traveled in four days within the span of one. His wife and children saw him as never before, a look of wild, desperate fear in his eyes. He scrabbled about the house, looking for something. Discovering it in the remaining chest of his parents' belongings, he clutched the old key to his chest as he stumbled for the first time towards the neglected shed wherein lay the terrible *Machine.* It was time.

Roger walked into the shelter, finding the inside surprisingly intact. Old, dusty, worn (he remembered vaguely buying the thing secondhand; nobody wanted to talk about the previous owner) but nothing seemed damaged. A suit nearby, covered with plates and wires, fit him well after some adjustment. It seemed to be a prerequisite for entering the thing, as it would only open while he had it on. That done, he found the stairs leading up to the hatch into the dark, forbidding internals of the terrible *Machine*.


Roger was scared, more scared than he had been in his life. He was afraid of the *Machine*, of all the things around him, but he was more afraid of the hideous creature making its inexorable way towards his family. And so he was brave. Struggling to read and interpret worn and faded controls, finally managing to activate his Mech. He bumblingly made it stand, and hobble out the door of the shed. It was enormous, easily three stories tall. Even in size to the monstrous creature coming for him. Roger knew that with this, he could fight it. This machine had been used before to defend humanity from these terrible monsters, and would be again. Assuming he could figure out how.



Three days later, Roger neared despair. His family thought him crazy, none of them believed him when he told them what he saw. They thought him mad, but he didn't care. He had to protect them. But he seemed incapable of learning this accursed machine. It offered him great power, but he could barely stand it up. After the third day of trying every button, every switch, ever lever, in an attempt to keep it upright for more than a few minutes, Roger and the machine lay on their back in despair. Frustrated and angry, Roger channeled his rage into his fist, smacking a metal panel in a futile display of defiance.

To his surprise, the panel broke, revealing something he hadn't noticed before. Another button, with a barely visible label depicting a person wearing a suit that looked like the one he wore to enter the *Machine*. He pressed it. What else was he going to do?


Instantly Roger felt the sharpest physical pain of his existence. He was locked in place, the suit and seat holding him still as drills screwed into his brain and nervous system. Panels lit up with information, but Roger didn't read them. He didn't need to. He knew.  Roger knew their secret, the dirty past that everyone in the city tried to hide. He knew why it was hidden, knew what was happening even know in the dark rooms of the city. He understood the Forbidden Topic, and knew that this never should have been built. But in that moment, he didn't care. All that mattered was his family, and the monster coming, less than a day away.



Roger took stock of his ammunition, the action now as easy as breathing. He knew immediately that the ancient high explosives loaded into this machine were far beyond their intended usage time, and likely very unstable. With centuries of battlefield tactics loaded into his mind, as well as his own resourcefulness, he formulated a plan, which started with him ejecting the volatile explosives into the soft earth here, safely leaving them on the ground as he stood. "He" stood, for he could now hardly tell the difference between his own body and the machine he now inhabited. After running a few diagnostics and some preparations, he was ready.

Roger waited.

At the expected time, the creature arrived. Though large, it was smaller than the great trees of the forest, so it would not be noticed until it was much too close to a town or population center. Roger had to deal with this now. He hoped he could.  His guns were empty of course, leaving him with enormous metal fists and all the knowledge of mecha-sized hand to hand combat gleaned from a war ages ago. It was not encouraging.

The creature charged him, its weight carrying it forward, knocking Roger back. He caught himself, landing a few blows to what might be termed the creature's midsection, but these it shrugged off. Summoning its monstrous strength, the thing lifted Roger bodily and hurled him across the moderate clearing in which they fought. Roger, dazed, struggled to stand as the creature charged again. At the last moment, he dropped.



Surprised, the creature tripped over the prone, metallic hulk in front of it, falling with a crash. Right onto the unstable explosives Roger had safely deposited earlier. With a resounding roar, the entire pile exploded, leaving little left of the chaotic beast that shortly before had been assaulting Roger. But Roger knew that more would be coming.

He left the *Machine* but it was not easy. He felt himself no longer whole, knew that a part of him was now tied to the machine, and he could never recover it.


He returned to his family, and despite their protests brought them all back to the relative safety of the city.
Roger's son, that night, called out for him. Roger, what was left of him, responded.
"Dad what if the monsters come?"
With bitter tears in his eyes, Roger said, "We'll just have to show them who the monsters really are."






The cycle of nature continues. A city, instituting strict, bureaucratic rule of law, will cause beings of chaos to be created to balance them out. Those in power commit unspeakable evils to maintain their power in the face of the force of chaos. The cycle continues, and someday soon the beings of Good will arrive. Roger understood this now, and awaits that day.