Utopia Today, Dystopia Tommorow

A teenage boy lives in a small house in what remains of London. He lives there, alone, only meeting up with the occasional traveler going one of the last great cities in the world. After a great war centuries ago, the world was destroyed with only a few survivors. This teenage boy is going to find himself on a journey that would forever change his life, and his closest friends.


1. Loyé Awaits!

      I think the world actually hates me. Like many others, I live in the ruins of a long-ago great city, London. After the Collapse, many people migrated to "safe spaces". One of those is Loyé, a city in what used to be central Switzerland. Many there don't know about the people that are struggling to live their lives out in the "radiation zones". They speak of the radiation poisoning and of the widespread birth defects, but in reality, it is the least of my worries. The radiation is tough to deal with, but it is not impossible to live in. Though most that come to former Great Britian become poisoned as soon as they touch the soil, but the people that live here are pretty immune, though our eyesight is terrible and our life expectancy is about forty-nine. But I plan on a different life, one in the nearest "safe space", Loyé. I get out of bed (if you can call a two-century old mattress a bed) and begin my day. I wrap the wet cloths around my calfs, head, and arms and fit ragged clothes onto my body. The catch today? A rat and a couple frogs. I instead eat some of the dried snakes in my closet and begin my day. I step into the sun, and immediately feel my skin tighten from the radiation. Never mind that, and I continue to walk towards the Geronimo.


                The Geronimo is a steep crater in the center of the city. As I walk through the vacant streets, I come across a couple other people, all walking towards the Geronimo. It takes a couple hours, and by the noon, our small group makes it to the Geronimo. Every noon, an airplane drops water and MREs and the fly away. The airplanes swoop low, and forty crates drop a couple hundred feet. A deafening crash explodes as the metal slams against the broken pavement. The pavement buckles slightly and the crate snaps open to reveal lots of water. About four hundred people sprint down the hill, trampling some to get at least some water. The River Thames lost all its water during the Collapse, and is now a river bed. I dash down the hill and grab four gallons of the water and run full speed back home. 

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