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Peering through the recently blown and formed glass that now acts as a window for this facility. The lightning strikes upon the shores have not occurred in many years. Leaving many of us secluded within the confines of our dimly ebbing oil lamps, along with the persistent clanking sounds of gears churning. However, I have chored myself with the gathering of the fulgurite (Petrified Lightning) lining the beach not far from my workshop. With these wondrous fragments of natural crafted minerals to which panes of glass have been made from for centuries, it was rather simplistic to replicate the designs. Thus, craft my own panes. Though I must admit, the shape and clarity isn't as I had hoped. It will still serve the purpose for which it was created. Steam valves periodically gaped, releasing their bursts of pent up vapors. These vapors keep the halls of my facility humid as a sweat bath but at least I wasn't freezing from the relentless chill that had gripped the world since the end came. Supplies are scarce but I have managed to harness the frost like air outside by funneling the currents into vents, from within these vents, the compressed steam created via gases. Mix and formulate into liquidified compound that then travels into an old wine vat. That is resting above a dozen steam valves that allow an ouroborous to occur. Thus endless warmth, even if at times it’s stifling.

Food is even harder to acquire for the radiation has tainted nearly everything, but then again, I am simply a marvel unto myself. It just so happened that this facility, well, what I converted into a fortified facility was once an eco-lodge. The scientists that use to man this building were experimenting on vegetation and where they obviously failed. I have succeeded; then again, it is me. I chose a place far from any logical area's for which others might venture in search of scavenging, though I have had a few stumble across here. My little inventions proved; well... let’s just say armed sentries are obsolete. I at time do wonder, if my awesomeness has any bounds? Then after careful analyze, I come to the conclusion that 'NO' it doesn't. Strolling through my facility, hundreds upon hundreds of concepts are scattered about. Some unfinished and some scraped do to quality, Books and journals pile tables and stack upon the floors. This once sound structure of plates from vault doors, the walls are lined with pipes and metal skirting’s. Call it overkill but whenever I find a sheet of steel or metal, I weld it to this place.

Now, with a single window above my private chambers, I am able to view the cosmos and jealously glare at a creation that is not my own. That I would honestly admit to admiring, envy is like a malfuncting machine, find the source of the problem and improve it. The analogy is the best I have crafted, if jealous, improve it and I shall.

The cluttering, clanking, and vent billowing hisses are at times a melody orchestrated by the almighty goddess herself. At others times, they are like a nagging fur ball caught in the throat of a cat or rather a WhiteWolf. Oh yes, for the record. The divine above is female, how else could a perfect specimen such as I have been molded and blessed with utter and absolute cleverness? Point solved. As for the mangy cur, I am tolerant of keeping about me. He is for the better part smart, after all, he chose me. He is faithful, obedient, and trustworthy. Those are the only reasons I permit him anywhere near my inventions, but one greedy look and to the kennel with his arse. What’s mine is mine and what's his is mine, it’s the understanding we both share. It’s with my intellect and his prowess in security that unit us in this common union. Prior to our meeting, he was in the days of old. A soldier for the government, sadly, he was protecting a faction that in the end abandoned him and those that had laid down their lives for their nations. I was what others would have referred as a freak, simply because I cared more about the mechanics of machines than I did about human beings. Though in my defense, machines never talked back and or complained about boyfriend/girlfriend problems. If an issue could not be fixed by a tweak, code, replacement part, and or a new formula, than it was not worth investing my time or energy into it. I suppose in some ways, my mutt has altered my opinion on that front but I will never tell him that. Perplexing.... thoughts that stem together and or are triggered by an event that at the time seems absolutely insignificant and utterly horrendous to the conscious mind. Yet, even now, I think upon the man that I have come to rely on, the one that has stood by me through the collapse of humanitarianism.

I recall the eve of our first encounter vividly, I had been holed up in an abandoned Car garage. I will admit it wasn't my finest idea but it held true. The flickering of the candles that were strewn about the condensed area swayed, causing the shadows to dance a romantic waltz along the walls. Silently, dancing in a muted world, dancing just for me. I had been tinkering absent mindedly over some would-be invention at the time, when the pounding began. Pained groans and clawing raked the metal awnings of the chain drawn doors; the beautiful tranquility that enveloped my make-shift lab was broken. I had endured raiders, scavengers and they were simple enough to get to bugger off but the blighted? The poor folks that we exposed to massive amount of radiation. These creatures were the worst, they feel no pain (Though they sound of it), care for nothing but inflicting agony upon those not infected. I had been tinkering with the shotgun that I had stumbled upon, thus it was disassembled and thus I was defenseless against the inevitable threat at my very doors. The Silence began to section out, slowly the pounding stopped and the moans were gone. I scrambled to the monitors and their sitting upon the back of a small pile of mutated flesh was this man. Staring directly into the camera, I was using to peer out at him. In one hand, he held a single white rose that was held out in an offering gesture. With his other he mockingly smacked the arse of the dead Blighted, the goofy action caused me to giggle. I do not think I ever smiled or giggle before in my life prior to that action. Odd? Had I never giggled? I laughed when another’s invention was a bust, or when I proved that because I was a woman. I was no less than my male counter parts but giggle? Surely, I was above such responses. Well, perhaps not. I remember him sitting there, his hair wild and untamed. That perfect smile and the moon hitting his eyes just so, that even in the dark. His bright emerald hues gleamed, as if just for me. I suppose like the Cosmo’s, my little whelp is another invention I am jealous over. Though in truth, his mother must have made him solely for me. That's right; eat your heart of ladies.