The Nuclear Water Bottle

The water bottle began to move. Slowly, with fragile and spindly plastic arms and legs, it pushed itself into a sitting position. It had been left there when the nuclear explosion happened. In the hurry to evacuate, nobody had bothered to pick up that insignificant water bottle which was laying on the desk. And for years, the water bottle had sat there. Spring came and went, summer breezed past, fall gently blustered in, winter arrived in a tempest, and then spring came again, bouncing along the year. For many of these years the water bottle had sat there, not moving. But eventually, it had realized that it was alive.

The bottle had been inundated with radioactive material, and over time it began to morph. Bugs which fluttered by and drowned inside the open bottle merged with it, and the bottle began to develop bug-like qualities. It began to morph into something besides a water bottle. At first it had just grown into a type of plant, collecting water to lure more animals into its trap to consume.

But eventually the water bottle began to grow legs and arms. This took many more years. At first, its legs and arms were so small and weak that it couldn’t even move itself. But they grew longer and more powerful, until eventually the water bottle was able to roll itself around the table. But it couldn’t move any more than that. And more years passed, until eventually the water bottle decided to take its first steps.

It had learned about the outside world from the many posters on the walls, and the open books on the table. It was so excited to finally be able to leave its prison and venture outside. And the water bottle pushed itself out of the sitting position, and began to take its first steps.


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