Deus Ex Diluvium (Ryden)

The Table

Ryan and Brendon had to get more creative with their sleeping arrangements as the weather hardly changed.

Gone were the days of lying down wherever their heart desired and not having to worry about waking up beneath a blanket of fresh snow.

They spent half the day seeking out shelter for the night, often spending too long in one place for fear that they would not find another.

Brendon's skill, whatever it was, was becoming more precise, improving with practice like a fine art. He could pinpoint the exact second Ryan's life became endangered.

"It's like standing at a crossroads," he explained once. "In one direction, we do nothing specific and wander on our merry way until you die. And in the other direction, you survive. And I can somehow see exactly what the second option entails."

"Not the first?"

"No. I just get a strong sense of foreboding. It's not as if I can see exactly what would happen to you if I don't take action. I don't think I could bear that. Though I could probably guess."

"Why do you keep talking about me? You're saving yourself, and I'm just tagging along."

"It feels like the opposite to me. Like the point is to save you, and saving me is just an added bonus. I'm not sure why there should be any differentiation; it all amounts to the same thing. I guess it just makes me feel good."

Brendon stayed true to his promise of helping everyone they came across. Which sounds more noble than it actually was, as they came across no one at all since leaving Anna.

"I wonder if I'm avoiding people deliberately," Brendon mused as they entered another village which appeared to be recently evacuated. "We always seem to get to these places just too late, or miss them entirely. Not that I'm trying to, of course. I'm just following my internal compass. Nevertheless, it is suspicious."

In this particular village they had the luck of finding a TV set in an old garage: the only place not completely cleared out. It had been a while since they'd had any possibility of connecting with the rest of the world.

Ryan feared what he'd learn.

He was right to.

The vast continents of America had become a collection of pitiful islands, the largest of which Ryan and Brendon now stood on. Or at least, it seemed the most likely. It was little more than a pixelated blur.

At the end of the world, there's no where left to run.

Apparently, the bulk of humanity had embarked on the cruise of a lifetime, as Ryan sardonically put it, because that's how long it would last.

It had all the makings of a dystopian novel.

The ships were enormous, but they could hardly replace entire countries. They were self-sufficient, but not as reliable or effecient as they could have been, had we had any time to prepare.

All these issues seemed insignificant, however, compared to the fact that most were sinking as quickly and predictably as skimmed stones.

The ocean which Ryan and the rest of the population had grown up with had been wild and uncontrollable, like a savage animal attacking indiscriminately.

This new ocean was so much worse. It didn't have the clueless, random nature of a savage animal, whose actions can be blamed on not knowing the difference between good and evil. It lacked that animalistic fury; instead it was smart, calculating. It almost seemed to have a conscious understanding of the damage it caused. It saw the difference between good and evil and chose evil. Every time. It broke its victims' spirits before it broke their bones. Less of an animal and more of a man.