Basic biological forms of homo sapiens are no longer fit for survival, hence people are transforming in response to the altering, unpredictable environment. Survival of the fittest; it is never the fiercest that survive, but the most responsive to change. Human beings are nurtured to live in duality: To wake up and work during the days; to camouflage and find hope in the nights. Alternatively, human beings are neither diurnal or nocturnal, but ghosts who never rest.
The endless struggle is driving ANON crazy. It’s been days since she was trapped here. She hadn’t even had a single drop of water. The Eyes had sealed off the whole area so the survivors could no longer reach parts of the ruins where they could find the resources and support they needed. The downpour has contaminated all the water tanks. Food is gradually rotting, and first aid supplies are dampened. There were a few bodies near ANON, dead because of the exposure to toxins from the catastrophes. ANON was not faring any better. Symptoms were spotted on her body. Her skin was swelling, mutating and occasionally bleeding black. Perhaps it was the clouds. There had been rumours of the capsaicin rain. Some said that it came from another region. The contents were different and definitely more carcinogenic than before, killing the future generations in the area. ANON swore she would never give life to a new-born to only allow it to face this disastrous world.
A melancholic melody was swimming through the ruins. The sounds came from a distant car driving past the site. It was the song that ANON couldn’t get out of her mind, assuring her the vehicle was one driven by her companions out searching for survivors like her.
Can anyone hear me?
ANON looked on as the music faded away. She knew her companions couldn’t find her. It wasn’t their fault, there were always people being left behind. Surely it was a short life and she sincerely hoped for a longer, better one, but this would have to do; it was her moment to leave. ANON started asking herself what it would have been if the world was better, or if the metropolis simply never knew about the fraud. Would she be “happier”?
Probably not. If none of this ever happened, she would have wanted to become a writer. ANON would settle down in another country and rent a small house with a garden. Every morning, she would sit by the balcony as music played from her old-school radio speaker. She and her gay friend would be enjoying their fake marriage, sharing thoughts on culture, music and art as well as giving each other sufficient individual time. Sometimes ANON might still think of the one she was once deeply in love with, wondering if he was ever going to reappear in her world and get herself confused again once in a while. Nevertheless, everything would be a happily ever after. The fact that life isn’t an endless excitement makes it sound flawed, but that was the kind of freedom she longed for.
ANON swallowed another mouthful of black liquid. Just as her body lay supine, she smilingly whispered.
At the end of the world, I wish I could have…
… The end.