I sat scrolling my phone under the bright blue clear sky. Birds greeted the day in green trees that rustled gently while the rising sun warmed my forehead. I needed to move benches soon as the glare almost made my phone almost unreadable, however, rooted to this spot allowed me to forget and rest from last night’s sirens.

The slight morning chill accented the news on my phone; once again, someone broke into the nuclear power plant and stole used reaction mass. For the past week, local police, state troopers, and even government investigators combed the site, as each night, someone broke in under their increased security. The loud sirens kept everyone awake except for the guards because they obviously didn’t do their job, again.

I had just decided to stop sitting when something crossed in front of the sun. The theft of the warmth sent chills up and down my spine. The object streaked across the sky, leaving a trail of vapor. Missile. Nuclear. I dove under the bench into the slimy moss and rotting leaves while black and white movie images of children taking cover under school desks flashed behind my closed eyes.

For the past week, message boards had warned that the thieves wanted the spent fuel rods to make a nuclear bomb. While the government and experts refuted the claims, we, ordinary citizens, knew better because if the government and so-called experts couldn’t prevent reactor thefts, what else didn’t they know? Some crazy people thought that the government stole from itself, for plausible denial, and were then going to test new missiles on the masses or start the ultimate war, the last war, as this missile must mean. Those nutheads must have had it correct. The corrupt, uncaring politicians have killed us all.

The shadow grew straight toward me, which made sense. Mom and Dad hated me buying my house close to the nuclear plant. They claimed the radiation would mutate me and the surrounding animals. However, I did my research, and the land around the plant had a better environment than most places - “Don’t pee in your back yard, pee in someone else’s” became my best argument, along with the cheap purchase price. Now, strangely, my mind added the further argument, as if I still needed to convince them, ‘I’m better to die quickly, from this missle, than to live in the inevitable nuclear wasteland.’

The sun’s warmth returned, and I opened my eyes - no explosion, except the birds re-started their singing, softer than before. I thanked everything holy that I still lived until I remembered that just because the shadow didn’t cover me anymore, that didn’t mean the missile wouldn’t destroy everything I loved.

Something soft brushed against my cheek, and I smashed my head on the bench in an attempt to save my life - from a cat. A little, grey, white, with golden highlights cat that gave me the widest-eyed stare.

“You scared me,” I explained, or tried to explain, to the cat’s annoyed stare.

I bent down to pet and find the name tag. I knew all the neighborhood cats and dogs, but not this one, so, cute and friendly. And soft with no collar.

Somehow, I had forgotten the missile, but a descending shadow reminded me that I hadn’t heard or felt the explosion, yet. Two massive metal feet fell towards me, and I, once again, leaped under the bench to protect the cat with my arms. The shadow increased, the bumpy silver soles gleamed in the sunlight, while the birds decreased singing, until, with a light thump, the robot stood over me, feet positioned at either end of the small park. I stared up along sliver and red light streaked legs to a morning sun-lit yellow crotch.