Long-term Meme-ory

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Are We Still in the Jungle?

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Fierce Creatures

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The Subtopian

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Lamentations - Part Six

Alistair clenched his teeth at the pain of running on his hurt knee. He had a sick feeling in his stomach when he found that all the doors leading to the main control room had been propped open: Emil was waiting for him. The control room was filled with computers and monitoring equipment and his cousin was staring through a massive glass pane. On the other side was the whirling hydraulic generator, still pumping life into the stagnant dome.

Lamentations - Part Five

“How’s the garden?” Amanda asked her brother.

Alistair listened to the hum of the elevator for a moment, marveling that electricity in the PCR still ran. “It’s fine. It should get along without me for a while. Those flowers, they’re pretty independent. Not like people or dogs.”

She touched his arm. “I’m sorry we asked you to leave your post, and it you may not get to go back for a while. You’ll need to teach the rest of us how to plant and care for the seeds—you realize that, right?”

Lamentations - Part Four

They would get to the PCR’s capital by nightfall. Alistair still trailed behind Emil, but now he marched in a dirge. The way to the Capital was littered with bodies and derelict possessions alike. Some of the skeletons were crumpled like they had been crawling, either from injury or the superbug’s delirium. Others were turned on their side in slumber. The empty water cans and crushed personal devices, the torn shirts and hollow shoes, they all lay in witness to the death of their owners.