You have no idea how happy I am you went for B.
Urban FarmingYou can not bring yourself to order people out without going yourself. At least not for the first time anyone is going above ground since the day half a year ago. The reports over the radio did not prepare you for what you see.
The first thing you notice is the bright sickly lime green glow now coming from the Torus still hovering over the city. On this overcast day everything, even the sky, are tinted a little green.
As your team makes its way cautiously to the spots of green on the bus stop map you are going by you are amazed by the level of destruction. Almost every window is caved in, leaving glittering glass shards in the streets while larger holes are in some buildings, even at the top level of a multi story apartment. A diner is wrecked completely, roof caved in and burned by a small fire.
No active alien life forms are discovered, but orange blobs of something flesh-like are sitting inert all over the place, even attached to walls. You avoid them in an exercise of extreme caution.
The actual mission turns out to be a failure. While three plots are visited the first has only flowers of various types. Still taken for herbal teas or just decoration but hardly a calorie source. The other two are... not usable.
The orange whatever is on many of the plants, coating and in some cases adhering them all the way to the ground. Valda only suggests cooking them as a joke, no one wants to get nearby without some kind of fire.
On the way back a drifting cloud of that blood orange smoke from the first day passes overhead. You swear you see it twist and turn against the wind.
(Just a short excursion, nothing really goes wrong, or right, roll was a 3)
Other groups go out and meet with similar results. A handful of potatoes and some leafy greens are welcome but are not much to complement your food supply. One soldier fails to catch a chicken. Maybe next year you can plant something of your own?
Year 0, 4th quarterWinter brings cold but a supply of heating fuel combined with several layers of barricaded rooms keeps the underground area above freezing. With sweaters it is downright pleasant. This apparently gets the people talking, with little else to do.
Derval, a slim accountant from Ireland, pulls you to the side for a private conversation. She has been helpful keeping up spirits, with games, songs and a rotating array magazines and books.
"Some of us have been talking and, well, we wanted to elect a leader."
"I something the matter? Did I do something wrong? Is this about the chicken?" You ask. almost shocked by this turn of events.
"Not to take your place or anything." She says quickly "You have been doing a great job but some people would feel better, more," she waves her hand in frustration "normal, if day to day business and disputes were handled by someone we all chose. Scavenging, and base defense, and combat, most general research into what is going on, and a bunch of other stuff, would still be in your hands."
You consider it for a bit and decide:A. Sure, democracy, just don't let me regret this.
B. Nah, military rule is great.
C. Let's elect a few
advisors for me. But just giving me advice.
D. Let's wait a year, it is too early to let politics get in the way, even in a small group.
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Topic: SPAMPOCALYPSE (Read 2928 times)