Ficly

Humanicide

He strode from his position behind the camera to gaze out the vainly huge window. The symphonic menagerie of honks and beeps and screams had always soothed him, but the chaos newly born unto the street below was thoroughly disturbing.

Every citizen that had been viewing the lecture on the Televiewer was crumpled on the ground like a camper’s forgotten litter. Loved ones who might have been looking around distractedly only seconds ago were now completely focused on the crisis at hand. Some tried to revive, some gazed ahead in stupor, all dripped with the stench of confusion and loss.

Even distance and a strong mentality couldn’t deafen him from the cries of a particularly frantic individual; “Judgment! Our fate has been chosen!”

His heart pin balled around in his chest, ricocheting off of Doubt and crashing into Realization. He turned around, knowing what the premises would hold; cameramen, dead due to a fleeting thought.

He sprinted out the door.
Time to see how big of a hit the show was this morning.

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