Their kind had been here since the very beginning, inheriting the Earth from the stars themselves. But now things were set to change.
Their time was over. Their work, unfinished. Their legacy, incomplete. Their numbers, dwindling. Always dwindling.
And all for what? What had they achieved, in the long run? What had been their grand vision?
Nothing. Less than nothing. The square root of fuck all, as some might say.
Jim stopped daydreaming and shook the can of ant killer. Empty. And they were nearly all dead. He went to the store to buy another.