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"Conversion over to software version 7.0," a voice boomed over my skintenna. Gazing down from my tower overlooking the once beautiful city, I knew what everyone saw. They looked at life now like they were looking through a tire hub and were so lethargic.

Their favourite past time activity was now to eat the seeds that lay scattered on the streets of old New York City, fallen from the trees that had taken over most of our small world. The toxicity of this city had spread after the virus was created, and by now the whole world would be threatened.

"But what do you own the world? How do you own disorder?" a voice carried up to me was practically hysterical. Switching off my skintenna and climbing down from the railing, everything was silent. Sacred silence and sleep was what I needed. Closing my eyes, I swear that I heard the words disorder, disorder, disorder.

Waking up hours later, the sun had already set and there were huge bonfires lighting up the darkened city. Everyone was either looking for some more firewood (which wasn't that hard to find, in a city taken over my plants and trees) or acting like the drunks that inhabited our old way of life.

Flashlight reveries were caught in the headlights of an all terrain Jeep; the teenagers screamed as they were discovered partying. I knew that when I had been elected as the chief of the remaining citizens, I shone life into the man's hearts, and I would not give up. Sighing, I started climbing down from my tower to help the teens.