The vast cities of man were rubble. The landscape blasted, bleak, covered in craters and dust, like the surface of the moon, or some alien world. Nothing moved in the empty ruins save for the hordes of vermin. The trees that remained were warped and stunted things. The lifeless seas seethed with acidic froth.
There was movement. The armored transport lumbered to a halt outside of the sealed bubble which contained the last garden in the world.
Josephine glared up at the cockpit and Albert’s hangdog expression. “No, not even now!” she shouted. “You didn’t have to take it literally!”
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