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Mikey Jackson, 03 Sep '12

The Anderson Journal

Dear Journal,
I, George Anderson, would like to toast an anniversary. Not that there’s anything to actually celebrate. 30 years ago today, I sealed myself inside this secret underground bunker.
30 years. My word, has it really been that long?
I guess I was one of the lucky ones. World War Three was just around the corner. A nuclear war to end all wars.
No way was I willing to wait for the four-minute warning. It could have sounded at any time. What if I’d been taking a number two? Instead, being the shrewd man that I am, I locked myself in the bunker as soon as the media got wind of the mushroom cloud scare.
My father built this massive construction in the late Fifties when the first nuclear threat reared its ugly head. Curious that our surname is Anderson. No relation, of course!
I have no means to contact the outside world. No radio. No telephone. Nothing. But what would be the point? With whom could I possibly converse?
I have enough food and water to last a lifetime. I made sure of that. This bunker is huge. Although, there’s only so much one can do with tinned goods.
I wonder what the world outside is like. A burnt-out, lifeless wilderness, no doubt. Even if there had been survivors, the radiation would have got to them in the end. It’s sad but true. I must resign myself to the fact that I am, in all probability, the last human alive.
I often wonder what life would be like today if there hadn’t been a nuclear holocaust. Technology would have no doubt flourished, with those new-fangled home computer things evolving into amazing media and communication centres, connected to everybody else on the planet. (I don’t know how exactly, but somebody would have thought of a way!) I predict we’d even have hand-held wireless telephones, enabling people to talk anywhere.
But of course, such wild suppositions will never be imagined in the real world. Shame.
I will remain here until I die. Going outside would be both pointless and stupid.
Ah, well.
Hey. Maybe one day, aliens will discover my bunker and say: “So there was intelligent life on this planet after all.”