From Sector: 38
Entry : Nulla
When the world ended, it didn't just split and divide—it wasn’t like the films. There wasn’t fire raining down from the skies or incurable diseases, and countries weren’t always at war. In fact, I’m not sure we even still have any of those, countries that is, not after the flood.
Scientists in pristine white jackets had warned us. They told us that the shore was creeping closer and closer. Fishermen complained that their yields were way off predictions, but those politicians with their canine smiles tricked us.
We thought nothing would change, and then it did - hundreds, thousands, millions, and then the whole world—everyone was touched by the waters. The edges came closer and closer until there wasn’t a dry patch the size of a penny. The whole world is wet, damp—but that would imply that the water has left us, bid us farewell after the tragedy and onslaught it brought. But it hasn’t, and it won’t. The world is drowning itself and us.
Sometimes I look up at the blue sky and wonder if that was our warning.Maybe years ago, before we even began to count the years as they trickled by, the world whispered a warning, a promise: that one day the world would flood. The only remnants now are the hue of the atmosphere.
We live on floating chunks of metal that stretch far beyond the eye, like the governments still trying to convince us that nothing’s wrong and nothing’s changed. It happened so fast even the billionaires couldn’t get away. Their bones are soaked to the core like the rest of us.
Though we’re soaked in water, they’re soaked in scarlet.
I live on Colony 38. I’d tell you we’re friendly and hardworking—the section most known for getting things done fast and right—but the new world is too new for stereotypes or generalizations. We’re not known for anything or for having anyone—pilots, paupers, princesses, and politicians—none of that matters anymore.
Maybe it could have when it was just the flood, but not now, not after them.
Not after the monsters came.