After the End

After the end, I continued writing.

Nobody'd ever read it, I understood that. The internet was gone, and i was utterly alone. I'd been the only one to make it to the shelter in time, and I had no idea if there was anyone left alive outside it's foot-thick, lead-lined doors.

Still, creativity has a selfish aspect, and even unread, the simple act of writing relaxed me enormously. So I kept it up, though the subject matter I wrote upon changed...

I was now writing about day jobs, and standup, and friends, and a safe, suburban life.

You know, fantasy...

Creating the World

After years suspended in formless limbo, I feared I’d go mad. Some solitudes can’t be withstood.

So I created a world in my mind.

Fantasies of people, work, routine. I filled every moment with life, imagining each second as though I were living it. Moments of wonder, moments mundane, I created them all.

In time, I even forgot it was a game. Fantasy became reality, and solitude was forgotten. I was truly living in the world I’d created.

None of this is true, of course, it’s just a story I’ll post on the internet.

To the best of my knowledge.

Happiness

Smile and the world smiles with you. This is not simply an expression, it’s verifiable fact. When a human being is exposed to generally contented people, he’s statistically more likely to be content. In this way, happiness spreads.

However, the opposite is true also.

And you, I fear, aren’t happy. I’m not sure what’s bothering you, but you’ve seemed somehow… off. Preoccupied. You’ve been this way for weeks. It’s as though something you can’t control is weighing on you. Making you miserable.

Thus, you are sentenced to solitary confinement until such time as you cheer up. Bailiff, take him away.

Happiness

Smile and the world smiles with you. This is not simply an expression, it’s verifiable fact. When a human being is exposed to generally contented people, he’s statistically more likely to be content. In this way, happiness spreads.

However, the opposite is true also.

And you, I fear, aren’t happy. I’m not sure what’s bothering you, but you’ve seemed somehow… off. Preoccupied. You’ve been this way for weeks. It’s as though something you can’t control is weighing on you. Making you miserable.

Thus, you are sentenced to solitary confinement until such time as you cheer up. Bailiff, take him away.

Solitude

The station’s crew left for earth with the findings of our planetary study, and I stayed to keep the station operating. It’d be eighty years before they got home. By the time the next crew arrived I’d be long since dead.

I’d volunteered. It wasn’t the perfect mission, but somebody had to do it.

I watched the ship lift off, abandoning me to what remained of the colony. We had food, enough for one, and oxygen was provided by the hydroponic garden in the east wing. I’d be fine. I hoped.

Ok, then. It’s time to explore my new world…