The pigeon decided to return. Had it not, the retro-Powermetalers would have maimed him fatally, with buckshot fire. Despite his cute appearance with those tiny post apocalyptic goggles of his, he would have then been eaten slowly by cockroaches over time after falling from grace. Before he returned to Daryl he grabbed a 5 Bolivar silver coin from what was left of Panama. It was hard to fly back over the 500 foot wall that Trump had built, back in the technology age. Not only did it have retracting metal spikes on top, but there was a moat with alligators on both sides. Dead bodies were strewn along both sides of the fence, with vital organs missing. No one ever came in. No one got out alive either. Fortunately for Latin America, the wall mitigated the radiation winds on that side.
Upon the bird’s return, Daryl noticed the silver Panamanian coin in his beak. It was a very low mintage coin and he was thrilled of the indication that there was power still now in that region of the world.
It is the year 2159. All the world’s capitols have been obliterated- save South America and Africa (the only continents free of nuclear weapons)- and humanity is no longer able to reproduce due to the over-manufacturing of sex-bots. There had been three nuclear wars already, first of which involved USA and North Korea and the most recent involving Britain and Iran. EMP’s and cyber-hacks had taken out the grid long ago, leaving only a strand of humanity left whose bodies could physically adapt to life without WI-FI. Most of the main bands in the US which were based out of major cities perished as urban conditioning caused them to starve with no wherewithal to survive in the wild. All that was left were rag tag bunches of malnourished but darkly inspired bands of street trash scavengers who roamed the land with metal detectors seeking alkaline batteries to power their equipment (though these were also needed to power their sex-bots). Guitarists went back to using hand cranked Pignose amps, with vintage EV megaphones held in front to further amplify the vocals and guitars.
by Hereweald Cola Algar
Weakness is a disease, and pity is the enabler.