On the Afterwards of the Apocalypse

Shit coiled around street corners, and the pungent rusted scent of drying blood clung to the air.

The lords and ladies exerted all their abilities to ignore their cities maladies. Upper-class women wore intricately patterned silk veils over their faces to keep out the smell.

Well off men were certain to pay their drivers extra to go all the way up to the doorways of buildings, so as to avoid the infected sidewalks.

In the New World, every man wears a tuxedo. The New World looks very much like the Old World, if it were plagued with Emperor penguins and their veiled princesses. The New World's color palette is different from the Old World's. Where once I recall rainbows, now we have a black and white humanity thriving upon the rusting, sickly red of the Old World's crusting blood.

And yet, how our humanity thrives. Like insects we scour the glove, but separately, with few interactions. Still, we get along and oh, how life is good.