Post-apocalyptic Visions

I peer through the blinds, like others of my species. We and our companion animals have retreated inside. The droids are here. Again

My dog whines and her body shakes in reaction to the sounds of the mechs as blades hack through vegetation, gathering in the harvest. A large ginger cat crouches under a low bush. Maybe he will be safe. If not, there's a plastic box on the second story landing to hide in. His eyes glitter at me as if wondering if I'd open the door for him. I would since he's never attacked my dog. Instead, he crouches farther back. The droning machine moves past and the danger passes.

A large blowing machine moves in next, but it is pointless. Droids don't recognize that the heavy

rains last night have left everything sodden. It is nearly impossible to move cut material into windrows. Before long another droid arrives, hacking at woody vegetation, toothed blades scissoring together. The cat takes flight, vanishing up a rotting metal stairway.

I peer out again to see branches being piled up as if for a bonfire. What the branches will be used for I don't know. Kindling? Do droids use kindling? They are not sufficient for building. Or will the creatures with hooded capes reminiscent of Jarwa use them for some purpose?

Rain arrives again in a fine mist and still the droids move deliberately, leaving deep black furrows in the thick ground vegetation. From prior history, I know the scars will heal, but the ground will have ridges. "Ruffles have ridges," I say to no one in particular and turn away from the blinds.

Tatooine? Nah, too much vegetation. Endor, home of the Ewoks? Or is it the gardening crew back for their weekly visit?