'We weren't designed to live on the water.
Soon we'll have to go.'
'You think we were designed?'
'If we were, the designer has long gone. He ain't
designing no one no more.'
Sea levels have risen. Over the last ten years the ice caps on the poles have been melting, ever since a series of nuclear generators malfunctioned and punched a hole in the O-Zone layer larger than France. Since the disaster, the waves have lapped over thousands of coastal towns and half-swallowed cities in the waves, growing ever colder. What land is left is covered in thick layers of snow and ice.
London has sunk, the Burj Khalifa fell without maintenance, and USA's west coast doesn't have a San Fransisco anymore - at last, not one that people can live in.
In the ten years that have passed planet Earth has seen the largest drop in life to ever be recorded - not that anyone's recording. The sea took millions as emergency response failed, and suicide became the second most apparent cause of death worldwide, pipped at the post by drowning. The humans who do remain struggle for survival as they scavenge what's left of the world's provisions. There isn't much left. By 2040, six years after the mass nuclear breakdown, the world's population has dropped from 8 billion, to just over 7 million. Lonely scattered souls wander the earth like ants over a tiled patio, basking in the redundancy of their existence. Every day, more die, and more are killed.
Somewhere in mainland Europe two men, Leeam and Lutwig, struggle against their surroundings in a futile attempt to make some meaning of their existence. Every day is a chore, every minute an hour, and every mistake a tragedy.
Sea levels have risen. Over the last ten years the ice caps on the poles have been melting, ever since a series of nuclear generators malfunctioned and punched a hole in the O-Zone layer larger than France. Since the disaster, the waves have lapped over thousands of coastal towns and half-swallowed cities in the waves, growing ever colder. What land is left is covered in thick layers of snow and ice.
London has sunk, the Burj Khalifa fell without maintenance, and USA's west coast doesn't have a San Fransisco anymore - at last, not one that people can live in.
In the ten years that have passed planet Earth has seen the largest drop in life to ever be recorded - not that anyone's recording. The sea took millions as emergency response failed, and suicide became the second most apparent cause of death worldwide, pipped at the post by drowning. The humans who do remain struggle for survival as they scavenge what's left of the world's provisions. There isn't much left. By 2040, six years after the mass nuclear breakdown, the world's population has dropped from 8 billion, to just over 7 million. Lonely scattered souls wander the earth like ants over a tiled patio, basking in the redundancy of their existence. Every day, more die, and more are killed.
Somewhere in mainland Europe two men, Leeam and Lutwig, struggle against their surroundings in a futile attempt to make some meaning of their existence. Every day is a chore, every minute an hour, and every mistake a tragedy.