Life after

The sound of sand being crushed beneath the tracks of what could barely be called a vehicle was all you could hear over the wind. You rode a modified engineless track bike, the only way you had left to move about what was left of the world. Across where the ocean once was.

The wind around you was getting stronger but according to the blinking map on your wristwatch the storm was going the opposite direction.

Gripping the handles of the bike you rode forward. Sand scratching your already heavily damaged glass of your helmet. Yet you couldn’t help but smirk as an unfamiliar landscape rose in your sight, the triangular tower that once stood strong and beautiful. It’s top half sat mangled beside the base.

The blue dot on your display screen that sat between the handlebars glowed brighter the closer you got.

Riding through broken buildings and along long abandoned streets the city seemed almost like a painting. The sun, shining down through a clear blue sky as it crossed the west horizon. A large floating city like a new moon hung in the sky. A home that you no longer belonged to, that you would one day return. Or hoped too.

That is if ego and fear didn’t still have the city of ‘The Ark’ in its grasp. Lead by people who threw others down to an apocalyptic world below the city, to serve as entertainment to those left in its city limits.

Pressing a handle on you stopped before a half crumbled building. Swinging a leg over and off the bike you looked up at the build that once held goddesses of the art. Women and men dancing about a stage as if they were flying on wings, telling stories most of the time without uttering a single word.

Reaching into your bag you pull out a book that almost seemed to glow in your touch. Pages flipped by before you landed on a copy of a painting that was of the building that partially stood before you.

“Well somethings got to be here, or else you would have sent me here.” You mumbled trying to make yourself feel better by reminding yourself someone was in fact listening and you weren’t talking to yourself. You could only wish that one day they’d answer back.

Walking up what was left of the staircase, the handrails laid in useless pieces. Statues were long gone. The ceiling was crumbling and large chunks had fallen, destroying parts of the stair case and hallway. You stumble slightly over a large pillar that had fallen fracturing the floor tiles.

You walk through a door and find yourself behind the stage. Despite the rest of the building being in ruins this room was fully intact. Well except the fact that it looked like a tornado had blown its way through.

Tattered clothing and old ballet shoes along with props were scattered across the floor. It wasn’t difficult to see what you came into the room to get. After all, it was glowing. The painting that still hung crookedly on the wall was of a ballerina who wore the same gold heart shaped locket that was glowing a soft blue on the headless bust that sat beneath it.

“And what made you so important?” You muttered, lifting the chain gently. The blue glow faded away the moment you touched it. Not wanting to lose it you put the necklace on and turn to leave, only to pause. Glancing back up at the painting, a corner was faded away beyond repair. You take a moment to take the painting out of its frame and roll it up, sticking it into your bag before heading towards the exit.

You couldn’t help yourself, years of searching for these glowing artifacts. A few things for yourself couldn’t harm anything. Right?

Not like anyone would miss them.

Putting on your helmet and climbing back on your bike you head back out onto what used to be the streets of a city. The sun is already going down and you pull into the circle of broken buildings that were all one. In the center of the courtyard sits a triangle whatever it once held was long gone. Without stopping you drive up and into the build everything that it once held long gone. Looted at the end of the fifth world war, most pieces still lost to time.

The ceiling was almost completely gone. Leaving the sky clear to see as you set up camp. Lading back on the bike you stare up at the sky. The sun had set leaving an almost empty sky. The stars long burnt out only the sun and moon hung in the sky. Well except, “The Ark.” You sigh, closing your eyes as memories flood your mind.

***

Days staring aimlessly out a window, into the dark nothingness of the starless sky. The sun rising over the earth below. Small patches of green started pooping up along the surface that was closest to what water sources were left. Other than that the once blue ball was as tannish yellow as Mars was red.

Music and art filled the station they called the Ark. Yet it was all just repeats of things made centuries ago. Nothing new ever seemed to appear. Everyone was so bored with life on the station there was nothing left to inspire. Nothing left to live for.

“The problem with a utopia is that when there is no strife you can not truly live!” A man shouted as he was taken away along the corridors. “Then you shall be sent to earth, strife is all that lives in that old world.” The Guard dragging him said.

People looked away and went about their days. Color took over many of their wardrobes, hiding any sadness they held inside.

You? You sat in all black dotted with gems, mimicking what used to be the night sky. Blending in while still standing out, but as long as you didn’t say how miserable you really were they wouldn’t take you away.

Well until they did, for reasons you still don’t fully know.

All you know is it was a new way for the unseen leaders to entertain the masses. You were chosen to find the sources of what little life there was left on earth and bring it back if you could.

So despite feeling alone you assumed somehow they were watching you. As you took apart things to build tools to survive in a world that rained maybe once a month. You kept moving until you found a glowing book that led you to places you had only read about aboard the ship.

New-new-new- new York, south Canada, Japan, Egypt, and today Paris. Places that held the last reminisce of humanity, with little things for some reason glowing keeping the places from completely crumbling. For unknown reasons.

Reasons that you assumed the unseen leaders would tell you, if you won a game you didn’t even know if you were playing right. For an audience you weren’t quite sure was watching.

When the sun rose you woke again. Wishing secretly that no one was watching, no was listening. You ate a stale breakfast and headed back out onto the street pausing for a second as you passed the triangle in the ground again.

A spark of color that wasn’t there before. Climbing off your bike you walk over to the small thing poking out of the ground. A soft pink bud of a flower, with a smirk you take off your helmet and glare up at the Ark.

“Life will always find its way, I told you so.” You sneer before putting your helmet back on and opening your book a new page glowing with a picture of a clock, the largest clock in the world. Or it was once.

Climbing back on your bike, just as the watch dings. A warning about a sand storm coming your way flashes across the face. With another smile you ride off. Meeting the fast approaching storm and disappearing into the hazy cloud that covered the landscape. The locket around your neck gives off a faint blue glow in the storm's growing darkness.