They’d crawled out on the 17th day, unsure what to do. The pizza deliveries had stopped, no more bags of home delivered chips and soda. Hunger had driven them out into the world. Even then they didn’t brave the sunlight, but had snuck, ratlike into the night.

The deaths hadn’t stopped though, they’d met each other in the streets, dying to each other’s myopic gaze till just a few were left. Veterans of the 3rd war, conquerors of the Lich King. The ones who could co-operate in small groups without destroying each other.

These would be the ones that would re-conquer the earth. Full of knowledge yet lacking in the most basic social grace. It took an age for them even to talk to each other. Shy, introverted, timorous.

They retook the world after the charismatic slaughtered each other in a mad orgy of ill temper. The world filled, engineers and scientists, philosophers and poets. No-one missed the angry loud people, the forests recovered, the seas teemed with fish.

The world rejoiced as the meek inherited it.