The War That Cannot be Won

Chapter 1

 "Newspaper ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you," I say handing the boy a couple coins. Just a few years ago, someone reading a newspaper would have been laughable. Some of the younger kids wouldn't even have had any idea what it was. But, when it's your only way to find out what's happening outside of your own small town, you take what you can get. I scan the front page for news of the war, some part of me hoping to see his name. I shake the thought and continue looking. There's a long list of things the ration has been cut on. Again. Sugar, flour, butter, cocoa. I sigh and keep looking.

I'm still looking when I walk into our small, one-story house.

"Dad! Ava's home!" Addie shouts

"Why do you care?" I ask, trying to sound like normal, sarcastic me. My sister looks at me with concern, and why shouldn't she? It's been three years and every word I say still sounds like it's been dragged out of me. I still wake up gasping for breath. I still have the same stupid nightmare every night.

I set the groceries and the paper on the counter and walk down the hall to my room. Slamming the door, I lay down on my bed. I pick up my iPhone X and hold down the power button. It doesn't turn on. Of course. Nothing has since the war started. No electronics, it's like humanity got thrown back to the Stone Ages in a matter of minutes. I toss the useless phone on my bed and walk over to the window.

This really is such a pretty part of the world. The Rocky Mountains are breathtaking, gorgeous blue sky, and brilliant, vibrant evergreens. But, no one cares about beauty anymore, it's all about the stupid bot war. Five years ago, people laughed at the science-fiction novels depicting what could happen if we created artificial intelligence. Such books were good entertainment, but a reality? Never. Well, too bad for us because now it is our reality.

I throw myself down on my bed, knowing it's the middle of the day, but still wishing more than anything I could sleep.

"Ava, come help us with lunch!" Addie's voice penetrates the fog that had clouded my brain. I don't reply, but slowly stand up and walk back to the kitchen.

"How are you, sweetheart?" My dad asks.

I sigh but don't respond. Addie serves me and my dad sandwiches if you could call them that. With rations so low we are basically eating razor thin bread with a little bit of meat in the middle. I never understood how war can make governments ration food. Obviously, resources are going to be cut off, but rationing mainly just lowers morale. A lot. And gives people something to talk about.

"Did you see they cut rations again?" Addie says in her sarcastically happy voice.

"Think of the devil," I mutter.

"What was that, Ava?"

I turn to face my dad, "Don't worry about it."

He shrugs and turns to Addie, "So what did they cut rations on, darling?"

He's always doing that, with his stupid sweethearts, honeys, and darlings. I'm 19 and Addie is 15, and my dad treats us like we are both 6. My mom isn't as bad when she's home. She's never home anymore, not since the war started. I swear they should just change her hours, she works overtime every single night. My mom works as a secretary for some congress member that no one knows. Ever since the beginning of the war, the office has been swamped with paperwork.

After lunch, I head back to my room. I pick up the faded Rockies sweatshirt that he gave me before he left. I bury my head into it, and breath in. It used to smell like him, but three years later it smells only like my room and smoke. Everything smells like smoke. The bots set fire to any city that they deem "in their way." So far, our little town in the Rockies has been fine, they haven't tried to conquer the middle of the USA... yet. But we still see bots occasionally. It doesn't make sense to me how some technicians in a lab created a bot with AI, and it was able to take over all other tech. Destroyed it all except the bots. And now most of them have AI. Their thought process is 600% faster than the average soldiers, they have no emotion, and therefore no qualms about killing, over and over. Ruthless cruelty, yet calculated. Intelligent combat is what they do best, only doing what will benefit their invasion. They don't make mistakes. This world is doomed, because believe me, nothing can stop them.