cw: self-harm
The year is 2041. I’m rummaging through the streets of what was once, long ago, known as Seattle. I’ve long since turned off my Geiger counter - damn thing wouldn’t stop beeping. But the roving bands of Nazis will kill me faster than the radiation if I set out for the countryside. My travelling companion shouts - he’s found a place to make camp, with a mostly intact roof and a good view of the street. I move to the window to take first watch. As my companion lays down to bed he says, “Well you know, at least we saved the Uighurs. You know before all this happened my brother’s friend’s uncle who worked for the CIA told me the craziest stories about them…” and he drifts off to sleep. I contemplate whether to put a bullet into his head, or my own.
Wrote this like 3 years ago in response to someone on
