SINGULARITY

When he didn’t battle, he slept for many years, and in these years he dreamt. He dreamt of a beautiful world full of golden sunshine and warmth, of plants and animals who did not bear the harshness of a land living on borrowed time, of clear air that did not fill with smoke and gas. He dreamt of the red rage that had filled his thoughts, the all-consuming instinct that drove him to destroy everything he could see, the long years that he spent killing, and the longer years after that he spent grieving the death he had wrought. He dreamt of a name, a name that was an object of hate, terror, and loss. A name whispered quietly by broken souls whose hope had long ago passed into darkness. A name that described a sin which caused its bearer unimaginable pain and infinite guilt.

The name Godzilla.