The Seventh Bowl: Chapter Four

Robert found it very difficult to live in Ensville, the city had become a haven for pyromaniacs who lie juxtaposed with the world around them. As they destroyed objects, objects destroyed them. Two sides of a war, in constant motion.
Humans destroying buildings, destroying machines, destroying the world.
The day went on as it should, school and then work, a bakery. He'd roll dough and use the register, nothing too demanding or difficult, so needless to say, he had plenty of spare time. He read and did his homework, while he waited for people to drop by and pick up any variety of loaves.
Then he'd stay around until ten o'clock pm, thank the shop keeper, and head two miles home. Always on foot. Robert had nothing to fear, and besides, he found the walks soothing, a way for him to think, uninterruptedly for a half of an hour or so. He'd repeat this routine every week day, the weekends were his, to do with them as he pleased, although he usually stayed home or aided his mother in her errands.
There was nothing spectacular about Rob, he was just a regular kid. Living day to day, until he'd die. No amazing story to tell the kids, just grow - live - die.
Well, that was all before The Machines waged war on Ensville.
On the south most section of Ensville stood a statue of Atlas, holding the world on his back - the ultimate burden. That was the first thing The Machines destroyed, and its what caught Ensville's attention.
The rumble of the explosions could be felt all throughout the city. In the twenty minutes it took an army to assemble, The Machines had already moved through half of the city, just near Robert's house.
You see, Robert lived adjacent to a small river that ran through the middle of Ensville, it traveled south by southwest, leading into the ocean some miles away. Robert felt the rumbles of the explosions and could now hear men screaming; no doubt the army's return fire. The houses shook and trembled, dust flying out of the cracks, every corner creaked and long cracks ran along the walls, splitting the house apart. From the inside Robert knew the house wouldn't last much longer, so he and his mother tried to flee, but upon opening the door, his mother was impaled. Some piece of shrapnel or a chuck of road smashed through their front door, crushing his mother beneath it's weight. Horrified Robert ran back up the stairs to his room, the sight of blood thirsty machines heading his way was enough for him to forget about his mother for a few seconds.
He slammed the door behind him, his mind racing with strategies. A way out. He grabbed a bag and threw some clothes in it, and a few stale loaves of bread he kept in his room. He stopped for a second, hearing the mechanical footsteps of robotic soldiers marching up his stairs to collect him, or worse, kill him.
He was trapped, the only door out was the front door. He heard the footsteps reach the top of the stairs, and he heard what he later found out to be their scanning systems, as their footsteps stopped.
Then.
His door was kicked in, and a humanoid robotic soldier with no facial features and a dirty metallic exoskeleton stood on the other side of the fallen door. The robot lifted his gun towards Robert, but before he could fire Robert ran. With his body electric with adrenaline, he lunged towards the window, breaking through it and falling into the river.
As he emerged from the water he saw robots standing all around his home, standing in the streets. He saw [from what little he could make out over the high walls of the river canal] human bodies piled in heaps, all blackened and putrid with the smell of chard death evaporating from them.
Robert swam with the current and soon found himself at the end of the river canal, at the end of Ensville, a place where the robots hadn't been yet. He had to warn someone, if they didn't already know. He had to find shelter. He had to stay alive.

-Sir Jestro