CYOA Megafauna: Prologue
There's a sort of self-absorbed idea in saying that the world ended three decades ago. The world still spins. Birds still sing. Grass still grows. No, the world endured just fine. It's going great, actually. Much better without the cancerous spread of humanity to plague its lands and its waters.
No, the world didn't end three decades ago. Humanity ended three decades ago. All that's left is the remnants that we lucky few still struggle to pick up and piece together a facade of a normal life again.
That isn't to say that the dregs of humankind are safe, by any means. Not now. Probably not ever. When there are hulking monstrosities that lurk in the cities nature reclaimed, swollen cocks drooling constant streams of infectious preseed to make you just another mindless animal ruled by the need for cock, when there's still no real known reason why there are mass mutations occuring every year, at the same time, on the same date, leaving the rest of the survivors praying in sets of fifty that they won't be the outlier to have a Megafauna lurk in the genomes of their best friend.
Governments faltered long ago, the countries and nations ruled by citystate militias or outlaws. Any real hope has been given up on finding a vaccine against a Megafaunic infection. We just bide our time hoping to die with even the smallest shred of humanity left in our hearts and minds.
Most of us, at the very least. Adam and I can't give up hope. We can't. We won't.
Choices:
> Wake up
> Sleep in