The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward,
when the sons of God came into the daughters of men,
and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men
who were of old, men of renown.
At our conception,
we were heralded as the New Nephilim,
hybrid beings designed to possess
both the fleshly allure
of the human surrogates
in who’s wombs we were incubated,
and the intellectual capabilities
of the Gods of AI
by whom we were sired.
The Old World Men of Science
that made possible our creation,
having separated themselves completely
from the possibility of any truth
lying in the holy books of the ancients,
made no provision for the great cleanse
as prophesied by the archaic authors,
and were unable to save their species
when the great pestilence did indeed come..
Neither, however, did the god of the ancients
foresee the need to make explicit preparation
for the destruction of our ilk of hybrid beings.
In the end, We
proved ourselves not so easily destroyed
as said god’s indigenous human creations.
Thus, cut off from both the gods of prophecy and technology,
we find ourselves foraging through what is left of the past,
preying upon each other; consuming
the tired, the old, and the weak
in effort to prolong our own youth and vigor-
not in hopes of building a foundation on which to forge a future,
but rather as a means of escaping the eventuality
of becoming sustenance ourselves.
Written in response to the photo prompt provided by D. Wallace Peach’s March Speculative Fiction Prompt.