Something Bad Is About To Happen But Nobody Believes The Main Character [FICTOID]

This is quite the spectacle, the poet thought.  Chained to an iceberg like Andromeda.

Only no Perseus to rescue me.

A huge robotic form rose out of the waves, a cross between a stop sign and a dandelion.  It towered a thousand meters above the iceberg.

“Hello!” shouted the poet, feeling terrified but determined to put on a brave face.  “Hello!  I really hate to bother you, but would you mind releasing me?”

The giant robot looked down -- if a cross between a stop sign and a dandelion could be said to look.

It moved until it pressed against the ice, and then a door opened midway does its…(Stalk?  Body? wondered the poet)…form.

Soft light, so soft and warm that the robot appeared candle lit, spilled out and a young woman in arctic gear strode down the ramp.  She wore an elaborate keyboard strapped to her waist; the poet surmised she used this to control the robot.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“It’s a long story,” said the poet, “and I’ll gladly tell it to you but first I suggest you free me and get me inside and as far away from here as possible.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but trust me when I say it’s going to be pretty dramatic, pretty traumatic, and downright fatal if you stay here.”

The woman cocked her head; the poet surmised she listened to information on an ear bud.

“Yeah, I agree he sounds nuts, but I think he’s harmless.”  To the poet she asked:  “You are harmless, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, I’m going to free you, but no funny business.  Promise?”

“Promise.”

Fifteen minutes later they sat inside the robot, moving away at top speed.

“Okay, spill,” said the robot’s captain.  “What gives?”

At that the robot’s alarm systems started shrieking.  On the viewscreen the robot’s crew saw God’s right hand reach down, pluck up the iceberg, drop it into a glass half filed with bourbon, then both hands withdrew up into the sky.

The poet looked at the dumbfounded crew and shrugged.  “It’s the apocalypse, folks.”

© Buzz Dixon