Apocalypse, Climate Change, Ecological Disaster, Global Warming, History, Science Fiction, The Future, Trump
It was about fifty years ago that the world began its slide to complete shit. Global warming had finally heated up as the Religious and Asian Wars were cooling down, and the planet could not sustain the three-quarters of the population that remained. Violent storms ravaged so many breadbaskets, and rising sea levels displaced what seemed like billions. The dust bowls and wildfires were hell on Earth.
As conditions worsened, the search for explanations and solutions gave way to fervor for blame. Decades of research and records on carbon emissions and fossil fuel abuse exposed easy and convenient targets, second only to bankers and traders and other economic opportunists.
Millions of these deplorables were conscripted into labor camps and used to produce energy in various and humiliating ways. The living conditions for those subjected to this Power Regimen were unsurprisingly harsh, but it was the medium and substance of sustenance that took the most terrifying toll. No one, not even the Masters, could call it food, and it became known without any irony or affection as Green Slime. It had the consistency and taste of warm seaweed jello with pockets of rancid yogurt. It was grown and processed in the wastelands around abandoned nuclear power plants destroyed in the aftermath of the Cataclysm, and many other toxic and otherwise uninhabitable sites.
About forty years ago a series of super-cyclones weakened Earth’s magnetic field enough to expose the surface to cosmic and solar radiation that fried electronics and triggered extreme rates of cancer and genetic mutation. Millions died, but some small percentage had a positive reaction. Some mutations allowed many to manifest virtually superhuman abilities, especially when exposed to Green Slime and subjected to the Power Regimen. These mutants were exploited for their power for decades, and in turn have used their power to overthrow those that used them. They now stand outside the barriers between what’s left of civilization and the chaos beyond the walls.
My name is Noso Domo. I am the Chronicler. I am tasked with recovering our history. The task is daunting. Virtually all electronic records were lost in the Cataclysm, and many libraries were burnt to ash. But many clues remain, and it is my quest to investigate them all. I believe I know the turning point, the beginning of the path on which we find ourselves.
It began with the election of Donald Trump.
Next: [2020 Hindsight]