He Was Known as Banjo

He came from nowhere and yet he was everywhere.

It was as though he was not more than what was remembered as being human. There were glitches in his whole body, and he would still try to mimic the ideas behind what was part of humanity.

Banjo had been given that name back when he was still in a lab being created and was being programmed and turned into a human being or so he thought.

Banjo was still living in the same way he had been taught and what he also had learned on his own, which was more so now than ever before. Not knowing what year, it was or what had happened to all the people, including the ones who had been working with him.

The area that he walked alone in and the paths that he walked on were not as visible as before. They had long since disappeared completely except for the few yellow ribboned markers that had shown one where to walk and go.

Now all that was left of those days filled with many voices and many sounds were no longer part of the landscape. It was a barren wasteland of still burning charred land and they who once roamed and had travelled far were no more.

It was now like a scene out of a Hollywood movie. An all too real view of something that would be shot, then the director would yell, "Cut!!".

It seemed that over time Banjo had been around, that the smells of rotting flesh and decay replaced the once aroma of pizza and hamburgers being cooked on the grill. The sounds of children playing and laughing had been replaced with a deafening silence that was so eerie and so real like a horror movie made to order for those who had no idea what any of this was unless they stumbled upon that part of the past.

It was desolate. It was deserted. The once serene and peaceful sight had been scarred and made no more. It was with this new vision that brought on the nightmares and the dreams running together and only one of them was the victor.

Banjo played a banjo, hence the name. Banjo was not sure what to feel or what to think or what to know. He was the only survivor left in the world, and it was never going to begin to go back to what it was as its former self. Banjo was never sure if he wanted to return to his former self.

This new uncertain existence was not like anything he wanted to or was willing to admit that frightened him. He at times was no older than a young child, with his fear and his ability to ask questions that now would never be answered. At other times, Banjo was able to piece together the idea of a much older person, sometimes a young adult, other times as an older man all together.

Banjo had at first blamed himself for this matter of chaos. He would punch the wall or door closest to him. There were marks to that effect yet no one to scold him or to yell at him for doing such silliness. He was unsure of what he would hear from down the now darkened halls and in the vacated rooms filled with no source of light or warmth.

Banjo was never aware of anything except that which had been instilled into the many circuits and mechanisms that made up what he was meant to be. It was all too much, and his reserves were intact with a long-life battery source, solar. He would live on for a long time and function as he believed was the proper way to live. Like a young child with no parents to guide them, he too was without a way to know what was right and wrong.

At times Banjo was quiet. He would sit on a high archway and look out over the remains of humanity. He had never ventured out too far for fear he would become lost and alone. They never were able to get done all they set out to accomplish. The ones who had given him life had failed in most areas of his systems' operations.

It was a time of more war and more battles that were not only fought locally, but nationally and globally. It was a fight to survive, with competitions and a demand for the future to be here and now.

No testing done on either animal or humans. The chip implants were what made this possible. The Labs were now used for more humane ways to build up and sophisticate the technology that was either invented in the former Labs or was stolen in the games of poshness and ignorance.

Banjo had begun life early on and was still trying to get past the defects of his early beginnings. As he was out on one of his daily walks, he saw what small but definite sign of life was. A flower with an array of colors and an aroma that was sweet to the senses.

Banjo was beginning to smile at the idea of life starting again after such a long time of desolation and gloom. Banjo then went to look for water or something that would give this flower moisture. Then looking off in the distance, clouds begin to close in and thunder or the sound thought to be thunder was loud and cruel. It was followed by lightning. Bright charges of flashes that were not meant to be seen by the naked eye.

The storm, as his mind stated quietly, was also letting Banjo know that due to the recent destructive events, the sun had closed in, allowing the deadly rays of light to join in with the storm which may be deadly for him to remain outside.

As Banjo was running and trying to outrun the coming storm, he was about out of danger, when a large evil looking bolt struck Banjo in the head and his circuits ceased to function.

Death is the last thing Banjo thought when the lights came on again.