Silver Iodide

I don't feel the temperature lowering. Just this same damn blistering heat we've felt for the last seventeen years. Nothing grows, we're dying every day and for what? What are we even living for at this point. I start to slam my hammer into the machine I spent years building. The piece of junk couldn't do the one thing that it was supposed to bring us rain.

I've wasted my life on this. The little life I have left. The people will be even more disappointed than I am. I promised them rain, swimming pools, crops and so much more. But in the end I could give them nothing. I wasted so much of their money buying silver. Modified Silver Iodide was supposed to make it rain when burned. I've been burning it for an hour now, and nothing.

Until we can have rain, and grow our own crops we will continue to be the pawns of other countries. They will exploit us for labor until we die, and toss our corpses to the side of the road as if we were nothing but the dirt we come from. When our king learns of how much money I wasted on this, he'll kill me. I'll be better off killing myself. Leaping from this rooftop, to my death now.

I walk to the edge and look down at the people. They've grown disorderly. I'm not sure if they'll cry or cause chaos when I leap from this ledge. That's when I feel it. No, maybe I'm wrong. A small drop? No, sweat is simply rolling down my face and mixing with the sweat. It couldn't be. No, impossible. Another, it couldn't be. Is it really? Goodness, rain has finally come back to America.

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