The machineMiloWe're almost there! A new land, a new beginning. It will be perfect Milo, a new life, where we are free to do what we want. Milo scratched the damp stones with his shoe, frowning at the mold that grew in neat rows between the gaps. The light was dim, but in reality it was non-existent. Mr. Nemitz talked about the old city and how the new city would be even better. “--and it was bright, yellow and gold, with leaves trembling in the sun…” Mr. Nemitz sang with joy. Milo turned away to hide his wide smile, as more and more people joined in the anthem. Old people loved to sing “Where the Sun Once Shone.” He supposed the tone was different if you had actually seen the sun outside of a book or video. Or seen a book apart from a video. Mr. Nemitz had been humming the song for nearly an hour. “Someone is having a great day,” Milo said, stopping himself from letting on how funny he found it. Masses of weary people were streaming in from all directions, anticipating the imminent arrival. Mr. Nemitz put an arm around his shoulder and shook him briefly, laughing with joy. “We got through it, Milo. We are there! "We're still here," Milo said. “We’re not even on the platform yet.” Mr. Nemitz scratched his ear. “That's true, but soon we'll be up there,” he pointed to the upper deck, terribly high and apparently empty. The ramp they were climbing led to the central deck, the very center of the ship's imposing hull. “We are going to be eaten by this monster and shit into Eden.” Monster was too nice a word for that, Milo thought. The boat looked even uglier up close. You could see it from almost anywhere; it was taller than all the buildings in the old town. The news had reached middle of paper...... people. It hit him like a powerful punch to the chest. The Machine poured the last vestiges of power into him. His mind suddenly opened, freeing him from all bonds, both to the system and to the children. Power pulsed around him, searching for somewhere to go. Milo lands on his feet in the middle of the losing battle. He focused on the battle and dug his fists into the ground. The power of the Machine surged outward, making contact with every person and every prisoner. They were his and he was theirs. The battle was over. Luna fell to the ground, the hot Machine light against her withering. form. She felt separated into her distinct parts. These were his arms, his legs, his organs. Its molecules buzzed, then ceased to exist. She melted into the light, into the peace of The Machine, and it ended.