Sci-fi Friday: Ruins

A hot, dry wind played with the tattered remnants of a giant flag, its faded stripes barely visible against the cracked marble of the Washington Monument, a mere shard of its former glory. Xera squinted through her violet eyes, her six spindly legs gripping the overgrown steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Beside her, Xylo tilted his multifaceted head, the harsh sunlight glinting off his iridescent carapace. "So this," he rasped, his voice a series of clicks and whistles translated directly into Xera's mind, "was the seat of power they called the White House?" His translator struggled with the unfamiliar word, offering a somewhat comical alternative - "Shiny Mollusk Shell." Xera sighed, the weight of millennia pressing down on her. "Something like that, Xylo. Though it seems power is as fleeting as their fleshy forms."

Beyond the monument, the once-bustling city splayed out in a desolate tableau. Crumbling skyscrapers, their windows vacant eyes, cast long, skeletal shadows across weed-choked avenues. The Washington Mall, once a stage for grand parades, lay silent, its grassy expanse punctuated by the broken husks of monuments, their inscriptions weathered and indecipherable. In the distance, the dome of the Capitol Building, once a proud symbol of unity, lay split open, revealing a gaping maw to the merciless sky. The silence, broken only by the rustle of wind and the occasional chittering of an unseen creature, pressed in…