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The '50s sci-fi flicks foretold the end,
when nuclear ants as big as Corvettes,
with mandibles like steel, more cruel and sharp
than daggers, would cut a man in two.
Humongous Mothra would cover the sun
with dusty wings and whip ten thousand vortices
across the landscape, lifting and crushing
in darkness the rootless things of the world.
With stunning hard symmetry enduring
like diamonds, insects would conquer the earth.
These splendid tiny machines -- their fate inscribed
in seamless strands of DNA encircling
the world, purely programmed and engineered --
would reign, devour and propagate their legion.