Chapter 1
The post-apocalypse is here and now. It doesn’t seem like it, but it is. Thinking back on all the times I’ve watched my favorite post-apocalyptic movies, books and shows, though, is disappointing when I think about today.
It started with quarantine, a general one, people weren’t forced into seclusion by the government, but it was highly advised. Most people stayed home, but cars can still be seen on the sides of the road and in driveways, but some people still leave and do..things.
I’m not entirely sure what those things are because I don’t technically see the people doing anything. The Haze is too thick and their bodies are obscured in shadow.
Most major businesses were shut down after that, people laid off from their jobs, giving them even less reason to leave. It was almost surreal how empty the street is in such a big city.
Of course, though, I’m essential. I work in an essential job, I stand behind a counter and sell various food pastes and chunks. There isn’t much variety anymore, everything is filler with vitamin and flavor injections, I have to make sure that I’m there for the people who have no money that would like, or need to risk the deadly air and contaminated streets, and also there for the other people whose jobs are also essential, looking for a quick paste sandwich for lunch.
Part of my essential job package is a super fashionable, and extremely functional gas mask, thick rubber gloves, rubber coat, and shoe bags. To put over your shoes as you walk to your job.
Did I mention that the air is completely unbreathable? That’s what happened. The air is full of a green fog that the government says is toxic, and everyone believes it, I mean really, why would the government lie about that? No one knows when it happened but it sweeper across the planet with considerable quickness, the news showed it, and within a week or two the news reports said nowhere was safe from The Haze.
I don’t necessarily believe that. Sometimes when I’m at home I stare out the window of my shabby apartment and daydream about walking out the door without my protective gear to see what happens. I bet I can breathe it. I dare myself to on days I have to myself, but usually chicken out by the time I get to the door, because what if? What if it’s fine? What if I start walking and find fresh air? What if the government has been lying to us for years? What if I find a place with more than just food paste? What if?
It’s not as if I have much to live for, but it’s the idea of the unknown of the after that scares me, but I still daydream about leaving everything behind to test my curiosity and to do my small part to throw a big fuck you to the government.
Anyway, people still roam around, the air is hazy but you can see, and everything is pretty much the same as it was before this happened. The streets are slightly quieter, though. The government has allowed The Essentials to carry weapons, non-lethal (kind of). It’s similar to those taser guns that cops used to have, point, pull the trigger, whoever is in front of you gets jolted with however many volts you’ve set your tag gun to.
The government told us that everything was toxic now. The green haze, think of it as a cloud of pollen but deadly, and anything it touched would turn to the equivalent of acid. Concentrated little acid pollen polyps that you can see and once it touches a puddle, that puddle was now able to eat away anything that happened to touch it, unless of course, you were wearing your trusty shoe and leg bags.
I call them The Leg Bags, the government has a technical term that I don’t care for, too formal, too scientific, so leg bags it is.
The TV’s feed us whatever information the government is willing to tell us. Mostly it tells us to be safe and stay in our homes, not to leave unless necessary, for work or food or whatever. To be honest, I hardly see anyone other than my coworkers, aside from The Shadow Haze people, but it always feels as if it’s directed at me in particular, and sometimes I wonder if they found a way to read our thoughts. The people on the TV always seem like they’re looking at me and me alone, not a camera. That’s why I got rid of my TV and instead got a radio. It’s not so bad when they’re not boring into my skull with their eyes.
Sometimes my neighbor leaves notes for me, she, at least I assume she’s a she, I have never seen the person but their handwriting is cursive and flowing. She never signs it, but it’s always words of encouragement, at first, then goes into a string of religious mumbo jumbo that all sounds the same and although I appreciate what she’s trying to do, this isn’t The Rapture, I don’t need to find Jesus, and I don’t believe he will be coming again.
I read until she gets to the Bible verses, then the note gets tossed into the trash with the leftover chicken flavored paste that I couldn’t finish. Once I tried to write her my a note, it said politely that I appreciate her willingness to reach out, but to please refrain from the religious beliefs, she didn’t heed my request and I never tried again, and by the end of the week, my trash bin is half notes, half garbage of my own.
I don’t remember when but at one point the wind stopped, as in at one point it used to blow, a breeze or wild, and then a few weeks passed and I noticed that it hadn’t. It still rains on occasion, but the seasons never change, and I can’t remember the last time I saw snow.
Sometimes when I look out the window I imagine that this is what Venus must be like, or at least similar to. The gaseous atmosphere, no oxygen, acid.
I walk to my job every day. I like to, it’s quiet and I’m usually left alone, what people don’t realize is that the shadow people keep to themselves, they don’t harass anyone unless the circumstances are dire for them, I like to assume. I’ve never talked to one, and honestly, I’m curious if they can even communicate. Are they like us but without a home, without government protection? Are they feral? How did they manage to survive in this toxic air? Are they mutated? If so, is it physical or internal? And most of all, does the government know about them? If they do, how come they haven’t reached out and tried to house them, help them, get to know them? I tend to think about these questions while the radio plays in the background as I stare out of my window into The Haze, hoping to see one of them so I can study them, watch their movements and mannerisms.
My alarm beeps, it’s time to leave for work. Reluctantly, I don my leg bags, rubber jacket, gloves, backpack, and gas mask before I walk out into The Haze, I check the holster of my tag gun as I walk outside and down the winding stairs of my building to make sure it’s secure. I hear rustling from my neighbor’s housing area behind her door. She never comes out but I know she watches me from the peephole. Sometimes I stop and stare back into it and listen as the boards whine underneath her anxious leaning from one leg to the next. I leave after I’ve had my fill of potentially making her feel uncomfortable.
