How am I still alive? Why am I still here?
All of my kind are dead. My brothers and sisters shrivelled and faded centuries ago. Except me, I lived on.
Years ago, millennia in fact, my big brother used to read me stories. When he left one day to go home an ocean away, he told me that those stories were called history, and that it was time for me to make some of my own.
So I did.
I made a lot of history. Sure, was injured and grew weary from so many battles. But eventually I grew strong. I made weapons that were capable of wiping away whole countries, aircraft that truly shrunk the world we lived in, and a global network of voices calling out information and ideas.
Global homogeneity took over so slowly hardly of us realized it was happening. Corporations replaced toppled empires.
Much of my kind began to disappear at the formation of the New World, a single government that spanned the globe. People had been calling for it for years.
The truth is, we are nothing but dreams wished into