As she looked out over the destruction that man had wreaked upon itself, as she watched the once beautiful and prosperous city below burn to rubble and ashes, she sighed, and thought of the true, piteous nature of mankind. She thought of how they worked, how they survived, how they lived their lives, and of how everything they built in the way of making their lives easier, was harmful to something else. Their self-destructive nature had ensured their demise, had promised this end from the beginning, they had just been too stubborn to recognise it. I was too stubborn to recognise it, she thought to herself with a shake of her head, realising that she too, was just like the rest. They, she had thought first, had been too stubborn to recognise it, to see what was happening and to do something about it. They, that one, simple word which so often came up when something went wrong. They should have seen it earlier, they should have done something about it. We, she thought. We should have seen it earlier, we should have done something about it.

People never wanted to take responsibility for their own actions, for their own mistakes. It was always so much easier to blame someone else, to blame them every time something went wrong. The irony in this case was, while they could refer to anyone besides the person saying it, they who were actually responsible, were the ones who first accused others of wrongdoing. They, who began this reign of man's devastation, were the ones saying they had done something wrong, that they had put mankind in jeopardy. They for the accused, they for the accusers, they for the guilty. They also, in this instance, for that which caused the accusations.

They were different to us, to humans. They were new, unknown, unheard of. They were met with hostility and violence, when all they wanted was a friend.