The end of the world has to begin somewhere, and my idle musings as to whether we’re witnessing the opening salvos of a Third World War has fired my imagineering.
Putting that into images is where I’ve been.
Did you miss me?
Just for once, the world won’t be saved by some size-zero Caucasian blonde with a disproportionately conspicuous intermammarial cleft.
Or her himbo Ken-doll love interest.
Neither will it be some trash-talkin’ Black woman who, loudly and proudly body-confident, thinks twerking will stop the bomb / plague / whatevs.
Or her sexy sista from another mista.
Same goes for the chameleonic Alphabet People.
It’s unlikely Cait with the pierced septum is going to stamp a Doc Marten-ed heel and sarcastically doxx us all to freedom.
Because the fundamental premise of post-apocalyptic fiction is that (almost) everyone dies. Sorry luvs, but that includes you.
That’s some bad hat.
But not me. I will be among the wretched few to survive the zombies / ice age / whatevs. My problem-solving skills will be tested macgyvering water purification systems, preventing infection, generating power, growing food.
Not helpful will be the vestiges of a pre-apocalypse religion playing on fear and ignorance by blaming science for the second coming / four horsemen / whatevs.
I imagine they will look something like this:
Likewise not-helping will be a menacing menagerie of mutant monsters, crafty cannibals and rascally raiders lurking one step outside the flimsy walls of our fragile havens.
When I picture the bad guys, for some reason they always look like this:
I hate clowns may be why.
Cautious not to veer close to the Massachusetts of Fallout 4, if anything I’ve erred toward S.T.A.L.K.E.R. but without those silly zones. Who needs quasi-magical effects when I have mutant magpies! And wait until you see what I did to our atrax robustus!
Of course there will be love. Relationships. Kissy-kissy. Because humans (faced with adversity) will continue to make the beast with two backs and do it like the do on the Discovery Channel.
Oh, and there will be lots of blood.
Our ferocious fecundity will prompt interesting and novel questions.
For example, what rights remain relevant when a species is under threat? What happens to ideas like “consent” or “age of consent?” or “contraception”??
Not so long ago, homo sapiens was just one of many “human” species on Earth, yet only we survived. Why? More importantly — how?
Even more importantly — could we do it again?
Maybe we should write a book (before the AI writes it) and find out.
BTW none of the images above existed before I created them. I don’t take credit for any and don’t own them. If they spark an idea, they are free to you.