Punkapocalyptic History
“The citizen has become a consumer; and when the consumer is no longer profitable, he is cast away and left out of society”
Consumidores y excluidos, Ignacio Lewkowicz, 2004
At the beginning of the 21st century the economic crisis, caused by water and fossil fuels shortages, as well as the ruthless speculation of the main economic powers, became pandemic. Although at first general population trusted that at the end things would go back to the good old times and (afraid in part to end up with nothing at all) accepted without resistance one measure after another to strip them from all the rights they had achieved through the last decades, at the end the general unrest was so high that ignited the spark of rebellion.
At first they were few, but in time millions of citizens all around the world took the streets with nothing to lose, blaming all the economical and political powers for their situation, those who have remained at the top of the pyramid as an untouchable oligarchy. There was war, carnage, anarchy… whole countries were nearly wiped out. The entire world was being torn apart.
Big companies, governments and the upper class in general realized for the first time that the tame flock they had been shepherding for centuries had gone wild, and that things would never be the same again. They also realized that they couldn’t afford the luxury to spend years reaching agreements between them, so they created a leading counsel with the power to take immediate executive actions, which they called the Compass. This counsel established that the problem was not the System, but the excess of people in it. This way they developed a way to keep the status quo as it was, the Babylon Project.
Thus the creation of the Megalopoli was planned, seven huge autonomous walled cities (two in North America, one in Oceania, two in Europe, one in Asia and one in South America), where only the right people would be accepted. They had to build reality but one step further, in their own image. Only 5% of the global population, enough to sustain the perfect social balance of economy and consume, would be accepted inside the cities with plenty of luxuries, pure water and food. Outside them laid the rest of the population, a burden, source of problems and troubles.
But these enormous cities must be built and that was something they couldn’t do in secrecy, so the Babylon Project was presented to the general public as a new dawn for the world, a place to begin from scratch with a more balanced society, where everybody would count. And the plan worked, because people was so anxious to believe in something, to dare to hope, that a measure of peace was reached and millions of people set to work in the founding of these dreamed cities, in exchange for a place to live and a decent job after their completion. The official message was that these seven Megalopoli were the first of many more that would populate the Earth. A feeling of building a better future was born, casting away past errors. Then, when all the cities were finished, the real truth was unveiled: there would be no more places like them, and these would be the Eden of a selected few.
Obviously people rebelled and took arms immediately. The fighting for the Megalopoli was vicious, as there was no easy way to build Paradises up but tell most people they were to live in Hell. But contrary to almost all citizens, who discovered the lie by surprise, the Compass was ready for this moment: it has been carefully planned and its members were perfectly fitted tactical and militarily. Their course of action was ruthless: those who didn’t accept to live outside the mega-cities would die. They didn’t hesitate to use all the weapons they have been developing for years, whether nuclear, chemical, electromagnetic or worst. The world outside the Megalopoli became a stark land, a huge battlefield. And lastly the seven cities were sealed.
For if the war wasn’t punishment enough, the next years brought a terrible nuclear winter followed by a global warming worsened by all the last years’ events. Everything except the Megalopoli, which were perfectly fit for these “inconveniences”, became a barren land of shattered old cities, wasted forests and grasslands and dried rivers. The population forced to dwell on these areas was decimated to the point of representing less than 1% of the original inhabitants of old Earth.
To make the Megalopoli even more secure, minefields, automatic weapons turrets and anything technology could afford kept away every living being who wandered near any city by a hundred miles.
The world outside these Paradise cities became the Wasteland, now home to the outcasts of the ideal society.
Even a mushroom cloud has a silver lining.
No one ever sees the good in an apocalypse. And that’s understandable. A lot of bad things happen when the world blows up. But then it’s all crying about the loss of family and the failure of our society. “Waaah, waaah, waaah, what have we done?”
Sure, there’s that. But what about the good things brought about by the end of the world? Global warming? It’s no longer a problem. And with no more global warming, there are no more whiny hippies.
True, it’s not all green trees and dead hippies. There are real dangers out there: toxins, disease, big scary bears that have mutated to become bigger and scarier.
But here—here in the walls of your city—lies hope. Look around. You’ve already overcome so much. You’ve beaten the elements. You’ve provided food for an entire community. You’ve managed to live together without killing one another or being annoyed by the stink that most of you are putting off.
And, there in that willingness to turn your nose, not up in the air, but toward your funky smelling brethren, lies hope. Hope that we can rebuild this world. Into a braver world, a saner world—a braver world that’s much more sane.
A world where no child need cry for dinner. A world where no child need cry because he is afraid. A world where no child need cry because you didn’t buy him that ring pop at checkout, even though you know that he’ll never finish it and it will just end up a sticky mass of carpet lint and hair somewhere under the seat of the car. A world where no child need cry for want of shelter or love. A world where that child will finally just shut his cake hole.
This is your chance to make the world the way you want it to be. A loving world. A free world.
Are you going to surrender this chance? God, or Russia, or somebody, has seen fit to wipe the slate clean. Now we can apply what we know not to do to make a better world for our children—and their children, and their children, and maybe a few generations beyond that.
You’ve already assumed the right to govern yourself, the responsibility to function under a social contract that apparently didn’t mandate bathing.
You are now free men and women. Are you going to let these men that gather at your gates take that from you? Just because they’re stronger? Just because they have an army of merciless killers? Just because they armed that army with chains and blades? And harnessed the power of the mighty and noble buffalo and turned them against you as the menacing war bison? Are you? Or do you accept this responsibility, this glorious burden, to wrestle from these ashes of mankind a better kind of man?
Stand. Stand against this threat. Stand with your heads held high—for you are the true possessors of this world’s future. Stand proud. And I will stand with you.
This is our world to rebuild. Not theirs. Ours. So let’s not f!&$ it up.
- From a speech given at the gates of Eternal Hope, Colorado, moments before the Massacre of Eternal Hope, Colorado.
Jesus is older, middle-aged man and if it weren't for his ostentatious clothing or facial scar, he'd be summed up in one word. "Bland". A nasty scar travels up through his mouth right out his cheek, where he'd clearly been shot. It's probably the only cool-looking part of him.
His "clothing" if it could be called as such, was better suited to the entrance sequence of professional wrestlers. He wore a heavy coat that was off-white and studded with gaudy fake jewels. On the back was a massive cross, obviously handmade and not very well done. A rarity for someone so old, Jesus actually has hair, which he keeps stylized into a pompadour. The general impression he gives is that he's way too old to be wearing such things or perhaps some kind of bad Elvis impersonator.
Seer wasn't always called Seer. After he joined the Fester Seers, a superstitious gang, they rolled dice to see what his new name would be.
They rolled and crossreferenced: "Seer".
So he became Seer and got his own bag of dice. Got taught how to predict using the rolls. Also, fighting. Plenty of that.
Seer was better with his hands than puzzling out the dice. But a little sleight of hand went a long way towards backing up his predictions.
At least until the night he interpreted the dice as saying "FIVE ARE COMING".
He was dead tired and probably high.
He went to bed and forgot all about it. At least until the V Reichers arrived and the shooting started.
Seer woke up alive, but badly hurt. Big-ass wound on his front.
He lived, and wandered, but no sign of all of the Fester Seers. A few bodies but little else.
Now?
Hairy nipples, two fingers missing on his left hand, one missing on his right, plus half his abdomen covered in scar tissue. A bit of bulk, not too much reek. Outgoing, friendly, and personable. More or less stable.
Seer wants to find the surviving Fester Seers, or at least know there aren't any. He wants to find what fate has in store for him. He wants to make sure no other a-hole gets the drop on him or his before either happens.
Last night was s**&.
You came from wherever the f$+! you came from - somewhere in the wastes - and ended up hiding under an old broken overpass. The rains came hard. "Metal Rain" they call it. It struck hard and stung like flecks of metal. It crashed on steel and tin with a clatter that led one to believe it would cut right through. Plus, the name reminded people of the 1980s.
The truth was nobody knew what was in the precipitation, but the common perception was that if it hurt like hell and caused electrical interference, it was best to stay out of it.
That's how you met these other f@~$ers. Or maybe you personally knew some of them before, but whatever it was all six of you ended up under this bridge together, hiding under the shelter of the bridge to stay out of the metal rain.
The sunrise came and went as you all slept in. But eventually everyone woke up when someone started cooking breakfast. Then you headed out as a group to see what was at the next town....
-------
Welcome to S!#@ Town. There wasn't a sign welcoming you. Rather, the essence of s~!~tiness extruded from the place like overcooked molasses.
S~@! Town. Yeah. The place consisted of ten somewhat intact houses. You’d call them ranch-style if you come from an older generation. If you’re fond of b#$~@@#* names, then maybe “mid-century modern” will tickle your fancy. They’re all pretty crummy on the outside and presumably the insides aren’t much better, what with all the trash, mold, and lack of working plumbing. Most occupants, like people in s#~& towns all over, probably on old stained mattresses and have few belongings worth anything.
But the townies in this place, in an incredible act of self-reliance, have actually started a small garden, but so far the dumbasses have only been able to grow hot peppers.
All of the a#$@!%#s who live here display all the qualities one might expect from life in the Wasteland. They’re all thin with bruised eyes, dressed in mismatched shabby clothing they’ve scrounged from God knows where.
There seems to be some informal town argument going on. About ten or fifteen folks are gathered at the front of a house arguing about something. Suddenly, someone points at you and the entire group shuts up and looks your way. These guys can figure it out! you hear a woman call out.
Hey! You! Come here!