A.D. 2095

Untitled Part 1

   The sun slowly, almost reluctantly rose, exposing a bleak and desolate landscape. Smoke rose from the ruins of what used to be a city. 

Nothing.

No life.

Silence...

But wait, what was that? A sound, like that of moving rubble.

A hand emerges, an arm, a head, a Man.

                                                  ~ Six Months Earlier~

       George Palmer was walking home from work on a Tuesday evening in March. It was a day like any other, he had been working in the factory since six that morning; now, twelve hours later, he was walking the two miles to his apartment. He was tired, as usual, and yet he wasn't looking forward to going home. Why should he? When there were just his evening ration of insects and a vegetable, maybe a piece of bread, and a cold bed to look forward to. So that evening, he remember the invitation from an older man who worked at the factory to stop by his place, and decided to take him up on the offer.

       Clyde Burns was considered odd by everyone else, but George liked him. He was quiet and there was a certain aura of peace about him. Clyde had once spoken up for George when he got in trouble with the supervisor. He had just finished making some tea, one of his few luxuries, when he heard the knock on the door. For a moment he was afraid, thinking, Could that be them?

       George thought he saw relief on Clyde's face when he opened the door. "George, do come in, I'm so glad you came", Clyde said with a smile. George felt a warm sense of comfort as he surveyed Clyde's apartment. It was tiny, as all the apartments were, yet cozy and inviting. 

     "Sit down and have a cup of tea", Clyde urged, motioning to an armchair. George had never known anyone so hospitable. 

     For several minutes they made small talk about work and the worsening living conditions. When suddenly George said, "You're different, aren't you?"

    "How so?"

    "I'm not sure, but you seem to know something that the rest of us don't."

    He looked at George, thoughtfully, for a moment. "Come with me," said Clyde, and led him into the bedroom. Where he removed a rug and lifted out several floorboards to reveal a cache of books, old books. It was forbidden to own or read any books over twenty years old, and some of these were more than a hundred years old.                

    "Where did you get those?" asked George.

    "Mostly from when I was young, although some are from friends of mine. I've always known how important it was to preserve history."

    "Here take this," and Clyde handed a well worn book to George. 

    "No! I couldn't," exclaimed George, frightened at the thought. But then a small voice in his head said, "Why not? You have always secretly wanted to know about how things used to be."

     Several hours later, as George was again walking along the dark streets toward home, he thought about all the incredible things that Clyde had said to him. Clyde had spoken of his life as a child, fifty years before. George wasn't sure if he believed everything, like did they really have twelve rooms in their house? and that part about flying? He could feel the book Clyde had given him inside is shirt. Carrying it made him afraid, and yet he felt strangely free and alive. Something he hadn't felt since he was a small child.

     George was too tired to read the book that night, but the next night and every night that week he read. At first hesitantly, then hungrily. He was learning, and what he learned made him want to know more. 

     Over the next few month he read many more of Clyde's books. He read about America before the Great Reset, he read about the constitution, and he read about God. He read the words, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights..."