The wheel it spins

the year is 2008 and above ground it is a very chaotic time,or will be,in 2012 on dec 12 a metor will strike the upper atmoshere,all will die upon its suffface.I will not die for i am a underground base,2 miles down.i am 17 years old my name is nick,my father was a rich buisness man,high in a corporation,when I was 15 my father informed me of this,for then i was normal.know i live in artifical air base,with artifical suns growing our fields.there is no luxury of fresh air and open skys.But in 4 years there wont be on earth,they estimate then nothing will survive the earth will be clouded for 2 years.one day in the future of 15 years we nay have to leave and come back up to the surface but it will never bee the same. The Chicagos and Parises, the Manillas and Berlins, the paved black streets and parking lots, the supermalls and superbowls will all be gone. All vanquished under the abandonment of mother sun. THe earth was never our mother but our grave, only the sun gave us life. Mother dead now and only our own graves to look forward too. Poor nick and friends, you and I, nothing to look forward to but sweet freedom of a dead world. But anything would be better to me than what is here now. The people around me, there are others who knew of what was to aspire, seem to have contented themselves with their manmade fields and artificial sun. They too were born in to wealth and opportunity, which gave them a second chance,. but I feel apart from them. I feel confined a world apart from once i lived on,such color in the vibrence of the sun,the leaves and grass rustiing in the passing winds.It was only time most here say,we had stripe the worldof such resources,we never had in mind of how large it may become.If i had one thing to say to all them is im sorry that i did not perish with them,that you were born in this creation never had a chance to say no,to repair the external damage.I cry sometimes thinking of all the fair people,who life will ended unexpetably.we dare not lend a word of warning,we let them continue along in the daily dream.some people chuckle and feel absoulte pity and despair for them,mindless slaves talking about them as animals a beast.Here it is cold and colorless,the voices never rattling with amusement,always pale and plain,I have people i know, friends you call them.forced togther glued into this mine. Theys serve their purpose talk words,relieve primal sexual desire, but they were brought here with money and friends with money and power and manmade things. They did not realize the transformation that was really going on earth, the reason the meteor came, why it came on that fated day, they did not even understand the meaning of fate. The twelfth day of the twelfth month of the year 2012, like the eternal midnight of our last day. It was a prophecy come unto us from celestial beings. They were like bishops to the human pawns, not the kings or queens of our universe by any means, but messangers. I have never seen them, nor did anyone in my generation or even the last hundred generations before me, but the ancients left messages. Few took them for what they really were, most explained them away to fit the realities of the day. They were trying to warn us of our true purpose, our tragic destiny. Human beings, a veritable virus set forth upon this world, destined to dig its own grave. Given brains but no eyes, voices but no ears. There are certain people on the earth who are born wanting and unhappy. No matter what wealth or plenty they were born into, it was never enough. They were either bored or restless, ungrateful or selfish. They were the ones who realized before the meteor, before construction on the underground cities, that something was awry with the world. Everything was hollow' like easter eggs intricately crafted but with the yolk drained out. As Nick lay in his military-style bunk picking at the frayed blanket, he thought of the meteor and of all the buzzing idiots swarming above. He thoght of all the people he had made fun of or stolen from just because it was fun to do. the people he had lied to because he didn't think they deserved the truth. Although he never really loved any of them, he felt connected to them somehow, like they were all part of someone else's horrid game. It didn't surprise him that in the end, at the apex of all of man's achievement, a meteor lay to smash it all to bits. Perhaps higher powers had created all this, the destruction all of this hollow extravagance, so that it would not happen again. Perhaps it all had to happen, in all it's entirety, if only once, so that the life, the soul of the cosmos, could be cleansed. He rolled this idea around his mouth, feeling tricked. These blind masses, blind and stupid as they are, deserve one last shred of dignity before they are roasted and served to the cosmos. They deserved to know.