And so we fought, like barbarians, to the death. The machines had stripped the world of weapons, so we forged our own. Machetes from metal scraps, swords from shattered steel, armor from ruins. We turned against our own brothers and sisters who could still hear, for to us, they were already gone, puppets dancing to their symphony. We knew this was our final act. We had to put on the greatest performance of our lives. A brutal, burning spectacle to keep them watching. To buy hope a little more time.