I’m still roaming. I’ve been walking randomly here and there, descending down the mountain. I find shelter and food in my ramblings; it is a miracle I’m not dead. One day, sometime midsummer, I see what I realized I had come to see. I giant metal something is before me. It is massive. How could anything so huge exist? Black is smoke is puffing up from the top. It is a two-legger place. It looks like death. It smells of disease. It feels like heat. Evil heat. I gag as the smoke chokes me, trying to kill me. But maybe it already is killing me.