Though finding shelter isn't the hardest thing it's challenge comes from what might fall. Super dense population points is what had evolved for modern living. Many of the people I knew were born, lived, worked, and otherwise existed in a single tower. The towers were meant to be their own standing country if need be. You could go to any tower anywhere in the world and find the same things, hospitals, fire departments, peace officers, schools, community hubs, and so on.
The cities were a collection of towers unified by the systems that wove together their needs, traded their resources, and fostered life. The city I've been in is- was called New Evergreen. It was at this point a city comprised of 17 towers. Located in the center of a forest that spanned over 300 square miles. It was a magnificent sight out of any of the windows. Some people spoke about nothing but the oceans out of their windows where you see only blue. I couldn't help but feel bad for such a one colored world.
We could watch the seasons come and go, the regual snow turning the landscape a pleasant white.
Finding shelter here. It's complicated. I can try to stay in a tower but I've already watched one fall. So it brings a level of terror to be anywhere near them now. Closing my eyes I still have the dark silhouette clear in my mind as I watched something so massive and great become a ruin heap. I'll stick to what I feel I can trust a few sheets of metal and the fabrics I've looted to make a makeshift shelter. Well shelters at this point I keep making them so anytime I need to get out of the cold I can at the very least try.
Looking back, I regret a lot in life. I could have gone out and lived a life not so lonely. Maybe even try for a family and a place of my own to call home. I'd never be one of those clans or families that owned whole floors of a tower. I did get to see one of those before. You would never realize the scale of the tower if you didn't see it from the outside or see a cleared floor. The house there was like something out of an old book, a mansion almost stolen from its pages. Surrounded by grass and a moat. I belive that the family was called the Ivaran's or something like that. They were not good people from what all I had heard they each were some kind of sick and twisted humans that forbid AI to travel through or past their floor. Even before everything began to fall apart.
Remembering the past is all I have left to my sanity I believe. I look forward always but I never like what I see. It's like being stuck in a graveyard with no way out and if. You want to get out you simply join the piles, the snowdrifts, and or the small nests of the people who clearly survived the end but expired shortly after inside the towers.
I'm not crazy, I'm sure of it. But the screaming of the world really does… something terrible to the mind. I wish I could block it out but it's just the wind hitting everything that's left making these sounds. Please stop, I'm so tired of trying to block it out. It's making me want to go back to the bunker.
I'll pick up another time. My pen is dying on me and I'll find a new one and start again soon.