FICTION | DYSTOPIA

Wastelands

97 of 💯

The rocky desert sprawls before you, a relentless sea of sand and stone drenched in the colors of twilight. As the sun bids you farewell, its rays painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the wind whispers an eerie song, carrying with it the faint scent of decay and rust.

Those who wander the barren landscape, navigate through the skeletons of long-abandoned machines and man-made structures. Ancient, towering, decaying.

Maybe you’ve decided to run away from the neon-lit chaos of the city, wandering into the desert in search of peace, in search of some forgotten sanctuary. You soon find that this place isn’t a quiet retreat.

There’s no peace in the Wastelands. Only the strongest survive here.

The night takes over the world, covering the desert in darkness, and calling the beasts out to play. Nightmarish howls and distant buzzing that seem to come from nowhere shatter the silence. You thought the day was bad — with the relentless sun shooting burning radiation at you — but the night is worse. The hidden beasts make it so.

As you seek refuge inside one of the abandoned structures, a gust of wind stirs the sand, sending it spiraling into the air, creating a transient sculpture of swirling particles. The sand ghost touches you, its heavy hand scraping against your skin.

The ghost of the Wastelands pushes you away from the shelter, but you manage to crawl inside the abandoned concrete base of the massive antenna, closing a rusty door behind you. The hinges squeak in a tormented groan, enraged by your presence.

Inside, you find ancient technology taken over by sand. You curl up in the corner, hoping that the walls will keep you safe from whatever lurks in the night.

Hope, you soon realize, was what pushed people to build this structure in the first place. This is such a vast desert, such a waste of space. They hoped to turn it into something useful. They had bold plans.

As it happens, plans don’t always work.

You take refuge in the concrete building erected by that ancient hope, and start doing the hoping yourself.

You hope that you survive.

And you hope too that, someday, people will be able to stay away from the chaos of Argon and find a home in the desert. You hope that someone, somehow, starts building a settlement here. You hope that someday the Wastelands can finally become a sanctuary, away from the claws of Atlanta. Maybe there’s someone out there with the strength to turn the Wastelands into the home of new hope.

< Real | Wastelands | Forgive Me >

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