*Alien and Minionbot are watching the sky. They are in one of the major polities located on a large landmass in the northern hemisphere. It is the non-sunward-facing portion of the fourth segment of the seventh larger segment of the planets orbit, by hu-mon calender.*
Minionbot: So historically, these hu-mons seek dominance by attempting to detonate one another with precise munitions.
Alien: Right.
Mb: And being dominated, they attempt independence by detonating their oppressors with the same precise munitions.
A: Right again.
Mb: And once liberated. The hu-mons celebrate by launching and observing elaborate displays of precise munitions hand crafted and synchronised to music.
A: Exactly.
*pause, they both continue watching the sky*
Mb: We’re… lucky to be alive, aren’t we?
A: Sometimes I wake up screaming.
(Stolen from the same webcomic) – RecklessPrudence
(#00365)
Another month, another warlike, human holiday. On the fourth day of their Joo-lie, more precisely the fourth night, the humans liked to detonate things.
Zykryxx and his mechanical Minion had made themselves relatively comfortable on the roof of their fabricated home to watch the rockets’ red glare.
“Research completed,” announced Minion. “It is a fact of history that hu-mons seek dominance by attempting to detonate one another with precise munitions.”
“Or outright mauling,” added Zykryxx.
Minion nodded. “And if they are being dominated, they attempt to gain autonomy by detonating their oppressors with the same precise munitions.”
“Correct.”
“Then, once liberated… the hu-mons celebrate by launching and observing elaborate displays of precise, hand-crafted munitions that are synchronised to music.”
“Yes.”
“This is filed under ‘entertainment’.”
This gave Zykryxx some significant pause. He put down his snacks and beverage and stared anew at the vivid display of pyrotechnics. Even if he had done his homework as a conqueror, these monkeys would not have stayed conquered.
“We’re lucky to be alive, aren’t we?” said Minion.
Zykryxx spoke softly, still hypnotised by the enormity of his grievous error highlighted in amazingly-coloured explosive light. “Sometimes, I wake up screaming.” And now he knew why.
[Muse food remaining: 19 (fic war prompts: 0) Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]