“Huh,” Tom grunted to himself, “I always thought it would be nukes.”

“Nukes?” Will asked, looking up from the chess board.

“Yeah…you haven’t been here that long, but it really looked like nukes for the longest time.”

“Really? God, I haven’t heard anything about nukes for thirty or forty years, Tom. What made you think they’d go that way?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’m a traditionalist. Like I said, you haven’t been here that long. Back in the Eighties, man.” Tom whistled to himself. “They had enough o’ those things to do the job three times over.”

“Traditionalist,” Will repeated the word, mentally searching for its meaning in his own tongue. “Well, I suppose I could see where you’d think that. After all, their obsession with tech has always been their problem. In fact, I suppose you could say that’s really what’s at the core of this.” Will said, gesturing widely as though to encompass the whole, empty earth.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Tom replied, moving his bishop.
“Checkmate.”