Here is the church,

Here is the steeple,

Open the doors,

And see all the people.


I’ve never really been a religious kind of guy. I mean, as a kid I’d get presents at Christmas and chocolates on Easter, but we were never the most church-going people out there.

I gotta say, when the only safe place is His house, you start liking Jesus a whole lot more.

Boom, boom.

The whole building is shaking, thank G- ... thank goodness those doors are so thick. The altar is shaking and the poor kids huddling near look as if they’re entire world is crashing down on them. Hate to break it to you kids, it already has.

Boom, boom.

The babies have started to cry, and man, there are a ton of babies here. Kids born without dads, kids taken away from mothers who maybe should’ve laid off the drink, kidnapped kids, you name it we got it. All kinds of kids.

“Sir, can I sit with you?”

Damn, she was cute. Tiny pale hands, big brown eyes that say: “help me, help me, please”. I grunted. She clambered up onto the pew, resting her feet next to one of the extra bibles. She just sat there for a bit, peeking at me out of the corner of her eye. Finally she opened her little mouth and -

Boom, boom.

Poor little thing, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Sir? I’m scared.” I could see what was coming. I freakin’ hate tears.

I grunted again. “Don’t you have a mother or somethin’ to look after you and say everything’s gonna be alright?”

She solemnly shook her head. I saw her nervously glance towards the doors. “They got her first,” she whispered.

Boom, boom.

I sighed. “The bots?” She nodded. “Cover you ears,” I told her before letting loose a beautiful stream of curses that a salt-wort fisherman would have been proud of. She watched me carefully, her hands pressed into either side of her head, and waited until my mouth stopped moving before she lowered them. She just sat there, looking like a pitiful lost bird, watching me.

“Sir? Have you been on TV?”

Crap.

I quickly covered her mouth with my hands, checking to make sure no one else had heard her. She looked up at me, a huge question mark burning above her in fluorescent lights. I let go of her to rub my face. Damn, that was close.

“Yeah,” I whispered, not looking at her, “that was me.”

Boom, boom.

There were screams this time, as part of a stained glass window fell to the ground, smashing into a bizillion pieces. The little girl clutched my arm.The walls shook and the deep thumps and crashes from outside began to echo around the room, almost like they were teasing us.

“Why’d you do it, Sir?” she asked, in a really bad attempt at a whisper. It didn’t really matter now, they’d be through soon.

Boom, boom.

“We’d thought they’d be useful-”

Boom, boom.

“-and that we could somehow better humanity with them.”

She pressed her face into my sleeve, rubbing her dirty face across it.

Boom, boom.

“Why didn’t they work?” I could barely hear her over the yelling and crashing and whirring of the machines.

Boom, boom.

I laughed in a way that probably, if she didn’t know it by now, would have told my little orphan that I was the villain. “Human compassion is a damn hard thing to recreate!” I yelled as the -

Boom, boom.

Boom, boom.

Crash.


Here is the Church,

Here is the Steeple,

Open the doors,

And see all the people