The Last Harvest

Imagine a landscape where sleek, metallic stalks of corn rise from the earth, their leaves shimmering with a holographic sheen. At the top, instead of tassels, there are intricate circuits and glowing LEDs that pulse with life:

After humanity’s sudden disappearance, the world changed. Cities were empty, and the sounds of technology were replaced by the natural symphony of the wind and waves. Two survivors emerged – corn and technology. Each went their own way, unaware of the other. But both left their mark on the world without humans.

In the Midwest, cornfields stretched as far as the eye could see. Corn had been the faithful companion of humans for centuries, nourishing generations with its bounty. It didn’t mourn our absence but continued its life cycle. The wind carried pollen from one tassel to another, ensuring the next generation. Without plows or tractors, the soil rested and rejuvenated. Weeds crept in, but corn held its ground, competing for sunlight and nutrients.

In nearby forests, animals roamed freely. A curious raccoon nibbled on a fallen ear of corn. Hidden in forgotten barns and seed banks, corn seeds slept, holding the promise of renewal. Fresh corn on the cob lay abandoned in roadside stands and grocery stores, wilting within days and losing their sweetness. As Earth healed, corn persisted, its golden waves dancing under the sun and moon. Animals grazed, spreading seeds. And when the time came, new civilizations—perhaps not human—would reap the harvest.

Far from the fields, the remnants of human ingenuity struggled to survive. Power plants and communication networks failed. The once-vibrant internet servers blinked out, their digital archives slipping into oblivion. Yet, some artifacts endured. Skyscrapers, monuments, and bridges stood as silent witnesses. Durable materials—plastics, metals, and glass—resisted decay.

Technology, once our servant, surrendered to entropy. Yet, in its decay, it gave the planet relics and warnings. A rusted smartphone lay buried, its screen frozen on a forgotten selfie. The internet, once a web connecting minds across continents, unraveled. Servers blinked like dying stars. Yet fragments remained, and a cat video looped endlessly, waiting for an absent audience. Deep underground, nuclear waste repositories held their breath, warning future civilizations of our atomic hubris.

In Earth’s grand timeline, corn and technology played their roles – one whispered of resilience, the other of impermanence. And the world turned, indifferent to our absence, weaving stories in soil and silicon.

A Note from Tom:
A blurred line –
To create a desired story, the process begins by outlining my concept, and constructing a storyboard. After that, AI is used to refine and enhance the narrative while producing a complementary image. The story is extensively rewritten and the image is carefully edited until they meet my standards. At times, it can be challenging to distinguish between my contributions and those of AI. This intricate process takes around six to eight hours to complete, resulting in a final product that perfectly reflects my original vision.

Writer/Digital creator/Prompt designer: Tom Myrick

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