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Rated: E · Fiction · Philosophy · #1512535
A thrilling story about a mad man on a crusade for destruction!
When I found the button I was but one of many who completed the process. The button itself was shiny and red and almost too inviting. Who would have left the device out here. Why would they? Explosives, fire of the greatest proportions. I would get it all if I press it. Would it be my fault. I didn't put the button here. The button is made from plastic. The plastic was made in china.

Did they know what their button would be doing? Did they know what the button is going to do? No. They didn't care.

The wiring that sends the signal? The wire that passes the buttons message along. The wire that will tell the thing to go. To get the thing moving. To get the thing counting. Counting down is what these things usually do. I don't see any point in counting up.

The digital display. The one that tells me theres 5 minutes until it sends the message further down the line. Five minutes until me and everyone within a 100km radius will be no more then ashes. Does the clock know what it's doing? Does it know what it is a part of? Of course without the clock the whole thing wouldn't work. It would just be some wires and a button and some radioactive substances surrounded by explosives.

Completely useless without that clock, and they will blame me for it. I did the least amount of work. I pressed a button. Miners toiled for days to get the plutonium for it. Will they be arrested for murder? I doubt it.

When you think about it, they are more responsible for it then me. All I did was push the button. You know all the paperwork the government had to do to build this? All the secrets they had to keep, all the money they had to spend? They put much more effort into this then I did.

All I did was push a button.

I don't think the miners will lose sleep over killing as many people as they are going to in 4 minutes. The government won't care. They will say it was me, they will say it was all me and that they had nothing to do with it. What liars. What cheats. They did more then I, everyone did more then I. I just finished the job. I walked in at the last minute and put the angel on the tree. Does that mean I should get credit for it's beauty? No. The man who grew the tree, the people who made the lights and the man who put them on, the wal-mart that sold the ornaments. All I did was finish it.

They won't listen, they won't. They can't be held responsible for what they helped build. "I put the poison in the broth but I never intended it to kill anyone. It was the other guy who fed it to everyone. Why are you blaming me? " is what they will say.

What a crock, what a load. The final stage is the only one remembered. Why would they waste such blame on only me?

People will remember me and say there is something wrong with him. They will call my Mom and swear and yell and blame her. They will blame her for building me. But will they blame the builders of the bomb? Will they think about what they are doing? No. They never think. No one ever thinks about anything and that is why I am doing this.

Time slows down for me and the clock ticks faster. 2 minutes, 1 minutes, 30 seconds. 5.4.3.2.1. tick tick, fizzle. The wires! The wires! The people who built the wires! They didn't build them right! They didn't con
© Copyright 2009 Zack Colins (boor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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