In Search Of The Neon City

Prolouge

"In the year 2079 something happened, no one I have met knows exactly what, but the earth became almost uninhabitable.

Few people survived, even fewer animals and almost no vegetation.
Imagine a world where water is the new gold and petrol is more expensive than the car itself.

Now, thirty years later, there is only one thing to do here, to survive one day at a time.

We live in a place we call the Wasteland,
It is a burial ground from times gone by, full of memories from past lives, now covered with sand. Sounds nice, right?

There are plenty of scorpions and other hard-skinned creatures, but not as many treasures as one could wish for. And yeah, that's what I do, I search the sand for scraps.

The only functioning city in the Wasteland is called Vegas, a place full of amenities and luxury, that's at least what the rumours tells me. But I have never met anyone who has actually been in there, my guess is, once managed to get in you never want to leave?

In any case, the city is closely guarded and protected by large energy shields that prevent all unwelcome guests from entering, and maybe leaving? That could be a second reason.

And one can easily say that everyone who doesn't already live in there is probably unwelcome.

Around Vegas there is a dirtier society, darker and crueler.
In the Outskirts you can buy most things you need, at too high a price. But I advise you to stay away from it. Because this is where the slave auctions take place and all the rotten eggs in the country seem to thrive there.

In a small hidden corner on the Wasteland is an old scrap yard, which is currently my home.
It's a pretty nice place, there are even some trees and shrubs left here, and it's a good distance away from Vegas and the camps.

It was Carl and his niece Amanda who found the place first.
From the beginning we were quite a few who lived here, but now we are not so many left unfortunately. For various reasons, one might say.
Most smaller communities or groups like ours have usually been captured and sold to the mines, or eaten, but let's not dive into that too much. The thought of it makes my skin crawl.

And that is why Jonna and Sofia work hard to build up our defense.
And as you probably figured out by now, it's not a good idea to trust strangers out here, so to speak.

Everywhere in the Wastelands, rival gangs are making money hunting us and selling us as slaves to the various mines.
Or steal things that they can sell expensively in the Outskirts, but I promise, you do not want to meet any of them.

The slaves have to do all the hard work, the children are usually sent underground to dig up coal, while the adults have to work to extract oil or dig for water. Sounds really nasty to my ears.

So, as you hear, life here in the Wasteland is quite tough, but most of us do not know of anything else, this is our home and every day we struggle to- .. "

"What the hell are you doing Lo? Are you wasting battery recording some fucking memoir shit!?"

"I was just thinking that- .."

"No one wants to hear about our piss life, kid. Turn that shit off and go to bed." the older man muttered as he stood in the doorway.

"All right , I will. Good night Carl." I sighed and flipped the switch on the recorder.

"Good night." He smiled as he closed the door behind him.