The capital of a grand nation based on hatred, now turned to ruins. The flags still flew high above the unholy ruins, long banners displaying images that had now lost all meaning. An idea conceived by angry, wealthy men. Humanity demands control; over other humans, over the world, nothing is enough, and that mentality leads to the end. The deep canals of the city were full of new and altered fish, come from the ocean to this new feeding ground. Due to the lack of sunlight penetrating the dark waters; great deals of the fish have gained bioluminescence due to the dark waters, small sprites of light dancing happily through the murky and abandoned streets, waiting to lure in an unsuspecting victim to its death.

Soon he had reached a speed in which he could take a break.
Placing the paddle back in the boat he grabbed for his rifle. Pulling the bolt back slowly and looking into the chamber. The collection of .303 rounds shined brightly in the dim light of the overcastted sun.

He pulled one of the rounds out and looked at it in detail, he held a life in his hands; an instrument of simple lead, copper and gunpowder, when ignited it could take the life of a man. It could take away all a man had, his memories, his emotions, in an instant, all gone.
Putting the round back into the rifle he slammed the bolt forward and raised the rifle to look through the sights. Clean and straight, the rifle could kill at a thousand metres, deadly accurate.
Returning to his paddling, Pipen began to sing, a happy tune from his youth, although he was born after the end, his mother wasn’t, and she in a way, gave him the optimism from before the war.

“Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do, I’m half crazy all for the love of you, it won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a carriage, but you’d look so sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.” He stopped as he came towards the building, floating slowly and silently until he reached a chunk of rebar.

Stepping out quietly he took hold of his rifle, in case of any animal possibly living in the confines of this abandoned tower. We began walking, looking around, for anything that might be worth anything. The place was barren, not an item of food or value anywhere. Finally he found a filing cabinet. Looking at the inscription, “X5”. He was several floors above his goal. He walked through the dimly lit office, until on the far side of the entrance he found a stair case. Walking carefully and quietly through the sunken catacombs.

On the third floor down he found, to his horror, the starving and decomposed corpses of the people whom worked at the office. Many were spared the horror of baking in the hot sun. Rather they died in the pitch black darkness of submerged high-rises and brownstones. The glass in these buildings was reinforced in case of a flood from the nearby dam, therefore leaving the inhabitants below the water mark in the pitch blackness for the remainder of the lives, until starvation or cold got the better of them. The corpses were untouched, and their bellies were enlarged, out of starvation.
Down a few more floors Pipen witnessed a school of fish, alight with blue. The fish were long and slender, teeth like daggers, swimming happily and free in the murky blackness, the only thing giving away their position being the bioluminescence. Looking down a dark submerged street he was treated to a light show, blue and the odd red light of various sizes and brightness swimming and moving together in the dim light.

Finally, he was on the fourth floor. The location of the great sunken treasure lay there. He soon found a room with the walls covered in small drawers, each displaying a “D” followed by its corresponding number. He began reaching violently and ripping out drawers, eventually he fell down, and there he found it, the drawer dawned with a gold and faded “D6”. He pulled the drawer open; suddenly a bright light nearly blinded him.

One of the walls had disappeared and before him was what looked like a bunker. He began to walk through the brightly lit place. The front area was clean, but the halls leading to each room were covered with dried blood. The inhabitants of this vast underground nuclear bunker had been slaughtered.

The place too was barren. All valuables had been taking by the assailants. What little he did gather was that the inhabitants had hidden themselves there in order to hide from the radioactive fire and heat. And perhaps the flooding also made them hide, for the air was clean, like on the surface. Walking through the lit halls he soon found a large room filled with tables. Searching through it he found nothing. Continuing on he finally found what he thought he was looking for.

A screen was illuminating a dark room. Approaching with caution he sat down at the chair in front of it. Placing his hands on what reminded him of his mother’s type writer he looked over the alien yet familiar keys. He moved his hand towards a small rounded object sitting next to the computer; touching it he saw a small sprite on the screen move as well. Having confidence in the way it worked he found an icon and opened it:

//Dr. Maximilian Steiner personal Log “Read?”


Clicking the icon a document opened, displaying the words of a dead man. He began to read.

//Dr. Maximilian Steiner, January Fifth


My bunker opened today, the Iberian swine who built it moved the ventilation system in with the old building’s. If I had my way I’d have all of them shot. Other then that though the place is built entirely to my hopes. The hard locking door, the food supplements. It’s astonishing to think that one could have the goodness of nutrition for a day in one small capsule. The socialists on the other side of the ocean keep blabbering about a pre-emptive strike against us. The fools don’t know what were packing

(First pass code is in Latin, Huxley’s Native Tongue)

Sub accrescens castanei arbor

//Dr Maximilian Steiner, January Thirtieth

The swine did it, they fired and it took us thirty minutes to fire back. Our satellites claim that our strike was spectacular and more effective then theirs. I’m in a flurry right now, as I’ve been told that the city is flooding quickly. Only Herr Bordem and myself made it to the bunker safely, Huxley and Octavian are nowhere to be found however. We’re leaving the door on stand by for a few more days but if they don’t make it in time then we are closing it and leaving them behind. Otherwise my research began today, we have an enemy soldier, a school teacher and a proletarian locked in their quarters with nothing but necessities. This psychological experiment shall change the face of science.

(Second Pass code is in German, my native tongue)

Ich verkaufte, und du mich verkauft

//Dr Maximilian Steiner, March Third

The proletarian killed himself after twenty four straight hours of white noise, bashing his head against the bed frame repeatedly until he was dead. No word from the outside world, just radio silence, it does sadden me a touch knowing that I will never see the outside world again, but at least I’m furthering my scientific pursuits. Otherwise nothing to report, no one else came, to the bunker, some of the Iberians that work the office were banging on the door a few weeks ago but its been all but silent since then. I’m thinking of using my air hole, used originally for sampling the amount of out door fallout radiation and instead taking in water readings, it would never work.

(Third Pass code is in Yiddish, Dr Octavian’s Native Tongue)

עס ליגן זיי

//Dr Maximilian Steiner, April 15th

Shortly before the Socialist pig dogs entered with guns the teacher died mysteriously last night. He exhibited symptoms common with the flu and passed rather peacefully in the night. The captured socialist soldier hasn’t left his bunk for a few days. When a member of our team approached him he did nothing but state something in his language, and smile. It filled me with fear, and those fears became certain when our strong door was opened and a squad of socialist troops walked in and began slaughtering everyone. I managed to hide from them and as far as I can tell they have left. Taking their captured comrade with them. I’m going to the surface tomorrow, to see what has happened to the world.

(Fourth Pass code is in Swedish, My
late wife’s Native Tongue)

Under detta träd vi kommer att dö

Pipen was intrigued deeply by the personal logs. He wrote down the four pass codes, each in a different language and proceeded to see what they opened. Soon he walked into what appeared to be a chapel, and hanging from one of the synthetic wooden rafters was the corpse of the good and honest German doctor.

He found nothing, no more working computers. He sat down and whipped the sweat from his brow. Looking around, the socialist soldiers had made quite a mess of the Dr’s hopes and dreams. Soon however he was in luck, he found a computer translator and typed in the pass codes. There before him to his dull realization and curiosity was the pass phrase in English. He knew it already: Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree, I sold you, you sold me, there lie they, here lie we, under this spreading chestnut tree.


He was saddened to remember his mother, dying of tuberculosis while he was away gathering supplies from a nearby mine that had scarred the mountain he lived on. She taught him so much, how to read and write, but she was gone, and as most things went around this rather dark period of the world, she wasn’t coming back. He heard a groan behind him. Turning around he saw him, Steiner was pale, sick looking. He was inside a pod of sorts, his back firmly in the chair, he looked over, initially with bliss, soon changed to anger.

“Who are you?!” Steiner asked feebly, the man was old now, very old. He was kept alive by supplements that had been developed, being able to replace organs as they deteriorated past functionality.

“Speak you dog! Who are you and why did you wake me?” Steiner looked pathetic, old and defeated. Pipen pulled down his bandana from his face, exposing the sun burned skin below. Steiner looked down immediately with understanding.

“How long has it been? Since I went in?” He asked defeated.

“You were awakened by the pass code, Mr Steiner, you have been in cryo-stasus for 30 years, Nine Months, 13 Days, Two Hours and 38 Seconds.” a cheerful voice from a speaker spoke.

“Fair enough, tell me young man, clearly you know English, if you could read my logs, so what is it like now?” Steiner asked, in his accented voice.

“What’s what like?” Pipen replied.

“My god, do all you rugged surface savages have such accents? And you know the world, the surface, from your attire I gather it’s hot, and that society is still beaten and broken.”

“Yes, it is hot, not many people are around this place.”

“What of the wildlife, what are they like?”

“They glow, usually blue, sometimes red. Here there are only fish. Where I’m from we have deer.”

“Yes of coarse, I see your rifle. I guess this is my last good bye. The world has turned savage, its not for me anymore. Shame we weren’t sterilized by the bombs. You know… in my last days before I had this long and unending sleep, I was haunted. By my work I mean, the things I had done. I always upheld science above all, above life, above morality. I thought that it was all for the greater good. But was it? This war, the war to truly end all wars, was ghastly and selfish, it took me a long time to realize what it was that was wrong. It took ma a very long time but… look at you. Dressed in the discarded cloth, carrying an age old weapon of death. This is what it required to survive now, the world is broken now. There’s no point in me lingering any longer. This world is not fit for man, this world is not fit for anything. In the last days before I went down, I went to the surface… I saw human beings in their most depraved and savage state. It made me sick it did, terribly sick. In the end I think I didn’t want to ever come back. But here you are, and to tell you the truth… I’m glad, seeing that I was right, I can now die knowing I was right, me above all. Thank you, but it’s time for me to go.”

Steiner pulled a nearby pistol out and blew his brains out, his head jerked back and rested on the reclined chair. Steiner was dead, thinner then he was in his youth. The pod Steiner lay in was cozy looking, with wires and such hanging from the ceiling. The machine was meant to create a false reality, one more reminiscent of the world before.

He was done here, he continued to raid the abandoned bunker, after finding a good deal of food supplements and clothing, he walked up the stairs to the floor where his canoe was left, night was falling fast, as he got into his canoe, he saw the building collapse into the dark water. Sinking out of high pressure or perhaps a security system meant to terminate the building after none living remained.

He paddled on, across the square, across the sky. He was going to return home to the foot hills on the other side of the mountains, to the foot hills were he grew up. He was going home. The grain that was growing there was pure, and clean, a lake of crystal pushed against the mountains, between them a thin and modest collection small buildings and fields of grain and tofu.