Today's story courtesy - both inspiration and gracious permission - of the deliciously minimalist flash game Canabalt, by Adam Saltsman.
There is no other option. I run and I do not look back. I know they are there. But they are not why I run.
Ahead is a window, plate glass. I feel the servos in my legs respond to my mental commands, increasing speed. Outside, the Guardians continue their work. The flash and rumble are audible even here. It is too late to save the city. That is not why I run.
My cybernetic limbs catapult me forward. The glass shatters. I am bleeding from a dozen cuts, even through my nano-armor. I am alive.
Whimpers From My Bed Of Woe
1 day ago