I watched with horror as the terrifying machines ravaged the landscape. The sound of human screams pierced the air, and the spectacle of man versus machine terrified me. It was the beginning of the rout of civilisation; the massacre of mankind. Tripods loomed in the darkness, and I felt for sure that nothing could save me now. But then the credits began to roll, and I realised that by some miracle, I had escaped. The audience began to stir. The desire to be out of the cinema was far stronger than expected, and as we exited the flow of people toward Leicester Square tube station became pronounced. Everybody was alert and looking around themselves. We did not expect Tripods to rise from behind the grandeur of central London, but still we felt as if we must flee. Punch-drunk from two hours of entertainment, the masses swept into the trains and disappeared into the night, wide-eyed and agape. Within fifteen minutes the feeling began to pass, and relief sunk in. I returned to my small flat and wrote an account for my blog, then fell into a restless, haunted sleep.