Rain

Although technically the second story I've submitted to a writing competition, this is the first I can publish as the results of the NYC midnight competition are still pending. 

I saw this last night and decided to enter very last minute, so it has very little refinement and is 99% the first draft I submitted last night. 

The competition is run by https://novelo.com/, and the prompt was to use to opening sentence The rain hasn't stopped since the machines took control....

The rain hasn't stopped since the machines took control...

I think it was always inevitable. The hubris of humanity, our arrogance that we were always going to be the dominant species on the planet. The people in charge told us the machines were there to help us, to assist us, to make things easier. Then, they started taking the dangerous jobs, and people were happy, no longer were human lives at risk in dangerous situations.

Then they took the easier jobs, no longer did humans need to perform menial tasks. Again, we applauded as the machines delivered our packages and handled our shopping.

Then we bred the machines for war, and what did we think would happen? Emotionless machines that spat out data on the most efficient targets to cause the most devastation. Countries and cities became longitude and latitude, the human population was reduced to simple equations.

We tried to get the machines to fix our mistakes. Fix the damage we've done to this planet, thinking somehow global warming can be cured with a few lines of code. Redirect the sun over here and create enough atmospheric pressure so it rains there.

Then we decided that we didn't want to be involved. We let the machines decide when it should be sunny and where it should rain, and that's where it went wrong.

The machines decided it should always rain. Everywhere, all the time, because it keeps us in line.

We humans don't leave the house when it rains, and so we become more dependent. They bring us our food, our shopping. We use them for our entertainment. We never need to leave, and most of us don't want to.

It was raining the day I was born, and it rained all the days I could remember until one day it stopped.

The adults talked of the sun, how it wasn't always this way, but they were just stories, something the older folk say and the young folk roll their eyes and laugh at.

Some talked of stopping the rain, stopping the machines, but no one really listened to them. The rain was all we knew and for most of us, we were happy. Content.

The rain lashed against the window as it always did. Although it never stopped it sometimes changed, the rhythm became almost melodic, without it the world would be too quiet.

I grew tired of the broadcast on the entertainment network and took to staring out of the window. There would be nothing of interest to see, there never was, but something compelled me that evening to stare out. Then I saw it. An explosion at one of the towers where the machines were, then another and another. Something was happening. I turned on the newscast, and to my surprise, there was nothing.

I heard the explosions again and again. The machines were in large towers surrounding every city, creating a border with impenetrable forcefield walls, meaning even if you wanted to venture outside (and nobody did), you had nowhere to go. Travel between cities was mostly prohibited unless approved.

Suddenly, my mum appeared from her work pod. Told me to close the curtains and turn off the newscast. My Dad appeared too. I'd never seen them look this worried before.

They spoke to each other in whispers, and the whispers grew louder as they disagreed. Mum wanted to stay inside to keep me safe from what was happening. Dad wanted to go out. he said this was the day we took back control from the machines, and he wanted to see, wanted me to see it as it happened. This was the new dawning of humanity.

Dad must've won because we did go. We were soaked through, but nobody cared. We all watched in silent awe as we saw the burning towers crumble and fall into ash and rubble. The enforcers came but the crowds overwhelmed them. There was a newscast playing; this wasn't just happening here.

All around the world people had finally had enough. People were standing up and stepping out and taking back control. The crowds grew loud and restless. Chanting, cheering, crying. The Human race had found its voice again and we were shouting for our freedom, for our future.

When the towers had fallen and the dust had settled, we all stood there not knowing what to do next.

We all talked about wanting freedom, but nobody knew what to do with it now that we had it.

For the first time, I looked at the sky and saw colour. A magnificent blue peeked through the rapidly disappearing grey clouds. The same blue I'd only seen in movies and holoscreens.

A wave spread through the crowd, people shielding their eyes as the light returned. The sun began shining. My dad knelt down next to me, his hands on my shoulders. “Look around you. Really look. This is what they took, this is what we fought for.”

I looked around at the smiling faces, but something felt wrong. The machines were destroyed, the towers had fallen, the rain had stopped. We had taken back control, but somehow, without the hum of the machines and the constant drumming of the rain, something was missing.

The elation of the moment subsided, and worried murmurs began. Without the towers we had no power sources, and without the machines, how would we get our food? Without the rain, how would we grow our crops? Dad looked at me, squeezing my hand for comfort. “We'll figure it out. Humans always do.”

But I wasn't sure. All my life, I'd known the rain, and now, standing with the sun on my face, instead of a great relief, I felt a growing dread.

The machines had controlled the weather, but they'd also controlled the world. We'd become so reliant that we couldn't manage it ourselves.

A new day for humanity had begun, but the human race were children again, with no parents to tell them what to do.

The rain finally stopped the day the machines lost control, and now it was up to us to take it back.