The armies of sixteen nations struck at the rampaging alien machine. They tried bombs, lasers, microwave weapons, achieving nothing.
Finally, they dispatched Colonel Connelly Ekstrum. Known for being cool under fire, he stood still as the ten-story tall machine stepped towards him.
I wanted to run, but then Ekstrum said, “The aliens who built it must be very tall.”
As buildings toppled, I said, “What?”
“Every machine has a weakness, so designers make sure that weakness is hard to get at.”
A giant foot came down meters away. “That’s to avoid this.”
Ekstrum reached out, and pushed the OFF button.
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/12/30/1-january-2021/