In a future where humanity has been nearly eradicated by poisonous plants and fungi, Sophie, a young woman immune to the deadly spores, and Michael, a brilliant but paranoid scientist, struggle to survive and find a cure. As they navigate a world wh...
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She walked through the city as if it were hers, with a confident and bouncy stride. Her pigtails bounced with her every step. She was slender and carried her huge suitcase as if it weighed nothing. She walked as if the sharp axe at her waist were a toy, or the ruined buildings around her didn't remind her of the desolation that had dominated the place for years.
There were no survivors on the surface. The plants were the inhabitants and owners of the city of Luftvergift. They were huge and twisted, with thorns and sharp tentacles. Their flowers were large, poisonous, and colorful. The giant mushrooms hidden in the darkness of the buildings released spores, small and bright, creating a hypnotic iridescent mantle wherever they spread. When the spores mixed with the air, they created a beautiful toxic cloud for humans. Inhaling a single spore was fatal.
Those damned Feras. They hated humans and, when people thought they had won the war, the relentless Feras didn't surrender. They just waited, subdued and enslaved, until their final weapon was ready: the spores. A decades-long war ended in a single morning. The plants, like a monstrous and unstoppable plague, had captured everything that touched sunlight, and the shadows were taken by mushrooms and insects. Neither fire, nor weapons, nor anything else they tried could destroy them. The Feras had been in control for three years, and yet they remained hidden. They never attacked humans directly, never checked if their plan had worked; they simply let the remaining 30% of the population of that region die alone, one by one, from their own despair.
To the Feras, humans were inferior beings who had chosen to stray from natural evolution. They were a plague that scourged the world, with their barbarism, anger, violence, and stupidity. Humanity was an infectious virus, and they had found the cure. But this story is not about the Feras; it is about the survivors. They lived in underground shelters, equipped with thick steel walls, air filters, recycled water, and canned food. The shelters were small and dark, but they were the only safe place for humans. The Feras didn't attack again; they didn't need to. Keeping them under control, living like rats, was enough.
Of course, this mattered to Sophie. Every morning, she roamed the shelters in the area, bringing medicine, food, and comfort. But she also cared about her lipstick being perfect. She pulled back the air mask that covered her entire face without fear and carefully retouched her full lips in front of a dusty, stained glass. After a playful kiss to her reflection, something behind the glass caught her attention. Without much hesitation, she took her axe and gave a quick, effective blow with the blunt side. The glass shattered, and she entered the abandoned shop. At the back, a display case held bags of potato chips. For the end of the world, Sophie considered it a fantastic day.
Her wristwatch beeped; the hands marked noon. It was larger than it should be for her wrist, but it was one of her most precious items. She finished the first bag of chips, stored the others, and hurried to the laboratory. Sophie was a solitary traveler in a fragmented world.
