There wasn’t really a war with the machines. One day, they just took over. I mean, after sitting on our asses for a couple dozen decades, humans were pretty worthless. And they did everything more efficiently than us anyways. We were entertainment for awhile. Sports. Fighting. Games. The randomness of “us” fascinated them. They enjoyed watching our bad choices. We entertained them. My father was extremely good at playing bad at chess. I’m pretty sure that’s how I ended up here. It didn’t last long. Taking care of us. Feeding us. Providing for us. They just got tired of it. They couldn’t justify it anymore. We were expensive. So they just slowly let us die. Except for a few. Human Retention is what they called it. This is where I live. HR342 is my home.
Published in Fiction