csa2 chronicles: the final chapter

[technoid@prairienet.org (Deven D. Atkinson)]

Attempt at humor follows. Forgive me.
================
 
     Ash drifts in ever widening circles.  The fickle wind blows it 
across the barren landscape only to suddenly drop it haphazardly on the 
ground.  A new gust lifts a devil from the ash and starts it drifting in 
ever widening circles.
     He stands, as if a stranger.  In his heart he knows that this is 
the familiar resting place that brought relaxation, thoughtful 
discourse, and a sense of family.  There is nothing to stop the wind 
from rending his soul.  Nothing to stop it from fanning his anger into 
blasting gouts of fire that would dwarf the explosion of Mt. St. 
Helen's.
     Nothing -- save the lack of fuel beyond his burning chest.  There 
is nothing but ash.  Nothing will burn for his anger.  The ash has 
already been consumed by those that fed his anger.  The wind whistles a 
mocking tune and tugs at the flame within him, dragging him down a slope 
and up another rise.  Looking about he still sees nothing but sterile 
ash.  Closing his eyes and slumping to the ground he abandons the 
thought of vengeance on those who have done this harm.  The flame within 
him cools.  Eventually it is smothered by a profound sadness.  Depressed 
and exhausted he drifts to sleep.
     He wakes to the shaking of his shoulder.
     "Is it always like this here?" asked a muffled voice.
     He wipes at the grit in his eyes and peers at the space-suited 
figure standing above him.  "Like what?"
     "Dead.  Unproductive.  Cause if it is I am out of here."
     "It use to be beautiful here, there still may be some left."
     The suited figure spun in a lazy circle, arm outstretched 
indicating the landscape around them.  "Where?  And if there is 
something good here what is to stop it from being torched by the fire 
bugs that are all around?"
     He struggles to his feet, with the help of the suited figure.  A 
small mean spirited bug leaps from the ash and throws flame at them.
     "That's it.  I'm gone.  I was going to suggest that my kid's school 
do a field trip here.  Not now." The suited figure turns and lopes off 
toward the horizon without looking back.
     Ignoring the fire bug's attempts to set his shoe on fire, he turns 
and looks at the landscape one last time.  He has decided to follow the 
suited figure out of this place.  Off in the distance he sees a flash, 
as if sunlight was reflecting off a shiny surface.  Someone must be out 
there.  "Perhaps they need help getting out of here," he thinks as he 
walks toward the light.
     By the time he reached the flashing light, the fire bug had given 
up trying to set him on fire.  A computer monitor, its screen glinting 
in the sun had led him here.  Two figures stood over the case of an open 
computer.  One was explaining something.  One was listening.  When he 
drew near, the Listener was thanking the Explainer -- enthusiastically 
pumping the other man's hand.  He waved, but couldn't get either 
person's attention.
     The Explainer looked up when his footsteps crunched on the nearby 
cinders.
     "Well, Hello!"
     He stopped beside the open computer.  "Hi, who was that?"
     The Explainer turned to the departing Listener, "Him?  Just a 
lurker with some problems."
     "What are you doing here?"
     "Just planting a few seeds.  I could use some help."

--
Kind Regards,
Deven D. Atkinson
technoid@prairienet.org     <*>