people were like machines. They broke down. They rattled. They could burn you or maim you if you weren’t careful. - Hugh Howey

And one day, my love, you will know it, too.

There were sparks in her vision from the heady rush. Juliette’s mind shuddered. “What is this?” she asked, gasping for air. “This is from the supplies we pulled?” Courtnee laughed and leaned against Juliette. “It’s good, right?” “It’s great. It’s … amazing.” “Maybe we should go back for another load,” Courtnee said. “If we do that, I might not carry anything else.” The two women laughed quietly. They sat together, gazing up at the clouds and the occasional star for a while. The fire nearest them crackled and spat sparks, and a handful of quiet conversations drifted deep into the trees where bugs sang a chorus and some unseen beast howled.

There were piles of tailings and chunks of concrete studded with rebar around the oil rig, which continued to bob its head up and down as if it knew the sad ways of the world, as if depressedly resigned to what was happening, as if saying: 'Of course. Of course.