The Era of Isolation

The end of the world arrived without so much of a bang, a blast of otherworldly forces, an asteroid exploding on impact, a plague obliterating the whole of Humanity.

Rather, it arrived with a whisper, it arrived unnoticed. The end crept slowly into the collective consciousness of mankind. It nestled, nice and warm, in the endless cacophony of society, the dying screams of civilization.

It lives in our minds, a virus. Unstoppable and incurable.

And here's the rub: Not a single Human Being noticed the world when it ended. No one but me.

I'm Kit and I'm the last of my kind. I'm the last living breathing person left on this great green planet we call home. Don't get me wrong, I'm not special by any stretch of the imagination. Once, I was just like the rest of them. I woke up in the morning, I went through the motions.

Again and again and again and-

And then something happened. And then I saw it happen, I saw the world end. As far as I can tell, I was the only one.

Can you imagine how lonely that must be?

But I digress, the point of writing this wasn't to throw myself some sort of pity party. How can I? What kind of party has a single Human attendee?

No, I'm writing this to spread the word. I'm writing to trumpet my truth from the rooftops. I'm writing to tell you the story, my story, the story of how the world ended.

I'm writing in the hope, however small it may be, that someone will listen. That someone will read my words and see the truth within and maybe, just maybe, they'll be saved.

They'll find their Humanity once more and they'll join me in the prospect of saving the Human race.

And maybe, I won't be alone anymore.

I was a kid once, I had parents and two brothers. We lived in a neighbourhood in a metropolitan city. Not far enough from the centre of urbanity to feel out of it. Not near enough to the suburbs to relax. I had a relatively good relationship with my family, we hung out, watched movies, played baseball in the summer, fought like our lives depended on our sovereignty over the TV remote.

I was the brains of the family, I read like an addict, I analyzed each Sesame Street's character's underlying motivations for their actions until it was plain they all needed psychiatric help.

I never did figure out where all those cookies went.

I was a Mathlete, I trounced my classmates on the debate team, I volunteered on the weekends.

It all seemed to pay off when I got into my college of choice. I worked my brains out, I got into law school, I graduated and moved in with my high school sweetheart.

I had just gotten my first job at a local firm, filing paperwork and writing up contracts mostly.

I thought life was going just about as good as it could go. I was planning on proposing to my long term girlfriend, we'd get married, have kids, settle down and we'd-we'd...

Be happy?

But then reality kick in, then it happened. A flash of lightning, a careening collision-I'm not sure. The next thing I know, I'm in the hospital and I'm surrounded by the Dead.

The Dead that I once was.

The Dead that everyone still remains.

They were all there, my mom, dad, brothers, my girlfriend-but something had changed. No, I had changed. It was as if I'd spent my entire life squinting to see reality and now for the first time someone had handed me a pair of glasses.

My family was still there, looking the same as they always had. On the outside at least, but now, I could see their insides. I could see how Dead they were.

All of them.

Everyone.

Even you.

They pretended to worry over me, they pretended to care, but I could see it. They didn't care about me, not one iota. They didn't care about anything, they couldn't, because they were Dead.

They couldn't feel anything. Anything they think they felt was just due to their programming, left over from a million years of specialization.

They were robots.

They were zombies.

I got out of there as soon as I could, sure I'd see some living Humans out on the streets. But there was no one. Everyone had already Died.

The Dead roamed around, scavenging from each other, fighting and destroying when necessary. On the outside they looked like normal people. They smiled and said hello and wished you a good day at the supermarket.

That's what makes them so terrifying.

Only I can see their insides, only I can tell you just how revolting they really are.

The Human race has decayed, it's gone rotten, worms and flies and maggots buzz about feeding on forgotten and lost dreams and aspirations. Vultures peck at the last remains from the fossilized ribs of Humanity. The Dead feel nothing, care about nothing, are nothing. Nothing Real, that is.

Nothing that actually matters.

It's the end of the world that's done this to us, it's the constant envy and consuming that did us in.

Who the most liked?

Who's the richest?

Who's the most popular?

Who has the nicest clothes, the best job, the most attractive partner, the slimmest figure?

Gone is true hope, gone is real love, gone is every last bit of Humanity from the whole of the Human race.

And what left, it ain't pretty.

It's a Dead world, full of Dead people who can't even see that the apocalypse has already come and gone.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

As for me, the Dead think I've lost my mind. They tried to lock me up, brainwash me until I'm just like them once again.

But I got away.

I ran far enough so that the foul stench of the zombies couldn't reach my nostrils. I hid and I waited for someone to find me in the hopes that I wasn't the last Human left in this desolate wasteland. Hoping against hope that there's someone out there, among the Dead in a post-apocalyptic world. That's why I put out this call.

If you're out there, please, find me.

Find me before they do.