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Behind me, observe the ruins. Thanks to our help, humans built this colosseum shortly after we domesticated them. But it fell to ruin. Did ancient lions curse them while dying in pointless contests here? Purrhaps.
Humans built many more structures after losing this one. For centuries, they kept our bellies full enough, so despite their many failures we let them believe they ruled this planet. The last straw was a bird flu—humans let it kill many cats before our scientists took over. A simple tweak to the virus, spread by a grateful Avian Nation, eliminated humans once and for all. This ruin is a monument to their hubris—and to the fabled “belly scritches” our ancestors regretted losing.
Enjoy your visit,
Docent Tabitha
You know what never gets old, even after eons? Ruining things. Some water drops enjoy freezing, making the big weird primates fall and crash their metal symbionts. Others are obsessed with erosion. Many like to flash mob, flooding things. To me, the greatest joy of all is to be cold rain. To streak at the speed of gravity, striking the tiny gap between clothes and bare neck, the little hole between umbrellas, the pair of upturned eyes. It makes every other part of the cycle worth it. Even boring ocean duty. Even percolating into coffee. Even flushing a toilet. Look out, I’m coming. And I’m bringing friends.
~Water Droplet #H20-99N0FU704SEA