{This post is part of the "Constrained Writing" Contest hosted here.}
-Neque Tactus-
'Twas a blizzard-esque night today on an ex-planet. Me and my partner were scavenging all these vaults of an ancient "Human" race, only bits and pieces tells of their remaining days. And today we found a damning docx of their remaining days:
"So, to any survivors or alien species, know that we created the worst disease ever. The disease? "Neque Tactus" was its name. But what happened? Well I will give you the damn truth: we overused it and didn’t make a backup plan."
"The first mutation spread like wild fire across the Globe. Reports of comedic scenes of falling and slipping able-bodied people, malfunctions of equipment and even nuclear meltdowns as well. All tied to "Neque Tactus" - all this because we wanted to handicap terrorists, like A-bombs for the Japanese or Agent Orange for the Communist Vietnamese. Unlike them, this was a bio-mech programmed to handicap assigned “targets,” but we didn’t fail-proof it for a deadly mutation in its code."
"Now, you may be asking how the ability to write is unhindered? Well I ain't writing at all, not even typing this with my hands; I just got lucky that I managed to push the button at all to record an audio-log. Here I am on the floor dying to say the final remaining words for our dying Human race. We didn't go with a big bang or a whimper, but a pecking horrifying joke of a death..."
-Recording over-
