“How you get here?”

“Businessman—sold weapons and made a pile. Some collateral damage, but that’s life. Wife drowned me. You?”

“Dictator. Started war, made much money, killed millions until execution. This Hell not so bad.”

Their black carapaces reflect distant mushroom clouds as Earth’s latest inheritors scuttle for shelter.

Viv Burgess thinks her muse needs a pep talk and possibly a good holiday.