Bombs like the Blitz? But the Germans usually came at night to make it more difficult to intercept their bombers.
[By 1954, there was no longer rubble in the streets, and the worst of the bombed houses had been cleared away and replaced with prefabricated temporary homes, but there were some bombed out shells, less damaged than the others, still standing.]
Worse than the Blitz. Technology'd advanced by 2077 to where countries could launch missiles at each other from across the globe without the use of planes.
Bugger all... [He knows very well what the effects of a nuclear blast is. He came from a security job in the 1950s. It's everything the world's been afraid of.]
Yes, I can see why that would be what we call "a rotten day."
It happened all across the globe, as far as we know. No one has any idea who pushed the button first. No real way of knowing. And, honestly, I don't think it matters all that much. Doesn't change what happened.
There was a direct hit southwest of Boston. The city itself was utter fucking chaos.
But, honestly, that day isn't what this story is about. Not really. The day the bombs fell was bad. [And that's an understatement.] But it doesn't handle a candle to the end of the year. [A beat.] Which wasn't... that long after. The Great War happened at the end of October.
The months after were gruelling work. I'd done what I could, before it happened, to build up a stockpile of resources for my boss' family. They maintained a psychiatric facility in the north, and I wanted to make sure we would be able to support it as well as the family home. But it's one thing to imagine a nuclear war happening, and another to find yourself facing the aftermath. It wasn't safe to be out, doing repairs, arranging and guarding the moving of supplies, finding more when we were missing something. Between the looters, the radiation, the weather. But it had to be done, so I took care of it.
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july 7 // action spam // thread TW: nuclear apocalypse, radiation sickness
[Location decided, Edward settles on the bench, stretching one leg out in front of him. He offers the bottle of scotch to Norton.]
Not really. More like a clear and sunny morning. Started out that way, anyway. Then came the bombs.
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[By 1954, there was no longer rubble in the streets, and the worst of the bombed houses had been cleared away and replaced with prefabricated temporary homes, but there were some bombed out shells, less damaged than the others, still standing.]
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And these were carrying nukes.
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Yes, I can see why that would be what we call "a rotten day."
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There was a direct hit southwest of Boston. The city itself was utter fucking chaos.
But, honestly, that day isn't what this story is about. Not really. The day the bombs fell was bad. [And that's an understatement.] But it doesn't handle a candle to the end of the year. [A beat.] Which wasn't... that long after. The Great War happened at the end of October.
The months after were gruelling work. I'd done what I could, before it happened, to build up a stockpile of resources for my boss' family. They maintained a psychiatric facility in the north, and I wanted to make sure we would be able to support it as well as the family home. But it's one thing to imagine a nuclear war happening, and another to find yourself facing the aftermath. It wasn't safe to be out, doing repairs, arranging and guarding the moving of supplies, finding more when we were missing something. Between the looters, the radiation, the weather. But it had to be done, so I took care of it.
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Were your bosses worth it?