Below the children played kick the ball in the muddy field, just like they always had.

Above the planes flew their missions, the drones shot their missiles and the sky boiled black and red.

Below the dogs and cats paid no mind as the hunted in the rubble of another dying city, while this politician or that one took turns assuring everyone that terrible things needed to be done terribly to prevent terrible things from happening.

Above the crackle of phased heat weapons and thunder space based kinetic entry weapons beat out a cadence for another march to war.

Below an old woman strung her laundry and stepped gingerly through a strategically placed minefield that had never been strategic as far as she and her dainties could tell.

Above the howl of the air raid siren, hard young men barked out hard orders while dancing to the tune old men in cloistered bunkers joylessly whistled from their armchairs.

Below, people tried to get by just like they always did by doing the little things and living the little moments that make up the biggest part of everything that matters.

Above them the sky was fire and then it was silent.

Below, the people shrugged and went on as they always did and no one seemed to care. And the children played kick the ball in the muddy field, just like they always had.