I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO THIS SONG WHILE LOOKING THROUGH THIS PHOTO ALBUM, ADDS TO THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE COLLAGE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzvZE4BY0hY

The radioactive wind blew over the dusty plains and flowed through the gaps and cracks of a once-potent War Machine–now inactive. It had been 12 years after the Cold War turned Hot, and after the deaths of billions in the resulting “Great War”, the rusty bucket of bolts was left without a mission; and without a leader. For years it had stood there, watching over a highway without cars, defending the honor of a nation that did not exist. It took 15 more years for the first semblance of a settlement to appear on the hill next to the highway. When the young’uns of the village, with the innate curiosity prevalent among folk of their age, wandered too close to the War Machine, the hollers of the women-folk brought them back to relative safety. It took another 10 years for people to travel along the highways once again, although with donkeys and trade carts instead of Toyotas and Fords. As the years rolled along, the War Machine became the subject of myths and legends synthesized by the caravaneers and vaqueros of the plains. It took another 20 years for the smatterings of a civilization to arise out of the dust of the American West, for the formation of a nation to occur in the wasteland surrounding that old war machine. The highways, once lawless and dangerous, now became patrolled by troops of the New California Republic. As the ages progressed and the once-tiny hamlet became a town, the old War Machine became subject to a new type of curiosity, this time expressed by the scientists of the Californian Scientific Bureau. At that time, New California was embroiled in a year-long conflict with the Great Northern Khanate, a conflict that they were steadily losing. Desperate to turn the tide, the Californian scientists turned their attention to the dusty, rusty War Machine that had once served its masters so faithfully.

For the first time in a century, the highways were once again filled with the tires and tracks of vehicles, this time bearing the sigil of a bear and carrying scores of Californian troops. The scientists acquired a local guide, who brought them down to the vicinity of the War Machine.

“Estah’mo serka de Wah Makin?” the lead scientist asked in the local tongue

“Sih, ehs akqui.” the guide replied.

As the scientists ambled towards the inanimate statue, the local guide shouted a final warning

“Becare, es mui peligrow.”

The scientists ignored his warnings and continued their short trek to the War Machine. Upon reaching it, the lead scientists tapped the machine on its chest and stood back in anticipation. The scientists waited for a response, as the Californian troopers behind them readied their weapons.

Their jaws dropped in wonder as servos whirred and pistons pumped, and a red glow reappeared in the visor of the dormant War Machine.

The Californians barely had any time to react before the Machine pointed its weapons at them and announced:

“DEATH IS A PREFERABLE ALTERNATIVE TO COMMUNISM”