“Come on, Hannah, we can do this. Climb, climb, climb!”


    “But Alfred, I’m scared. The winds will come for us.”


    Alfred opened the hatch, revealing a desert landscape. He grabbed Hannah’s hand, and they stood on the surface—a twister came and swept them away.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ...


    “Gone, sir.”


    “They called them the winds.”


    “Yes, sir. The nanites do generate the winds cleansing our planet to protect nature.”


    “If they’d only traveled 100 kilometers, they’d see that our world’s a paradise.”


    “Yes, sir, and ravage it as they did centuries ago. Fortunately, our ancestors created the nanites to blow billions underground.”