Writers Block
Besides reading books Order was normally a very ambious writer. He loved to just decribe what he sees. His writing was built like a script most of the time. Since he loved watching humaniy evolve, he had maybe the biggest collection of Folders filled with Stories and history of scenarios he saw on Earth.
He used to write everyday, listening to soundtracks. In his Mind Humanities Greatest Invention was Music. And it motivated him but for the longest time he felt a certain emptiness. His skills got rusty so to say. He tried to find motivation for his writing everywhere but the changes on earth made it impossible. Earth was standing still. No movement whatsoever. The big lockdown.
He didn’t know what caused it, who caused it. Chaos? War? Destroyer? It happened and there was a Pause in Life that effected everyone. Politics moved on but one man can’t change the destruction the other has left behind. How?
So now Order was sitting there on his desk, his hands folded behind his back, looking at the ceiling. He loved to use his old, ancient typewriter but there was no clicking noise of the mechanic.
Bored.
He was incedible bored. He was an introvert. Uusally his own comapany was enough but now there was a big hole in his chest.“This is how the Humans feel right now i mayb assume?” he thought to himself.
