Kansas doesn’t look much different five years after the war. It’s still pretty flat, save for the occasional abandoned farmhouse or downed Airsquid carcass. Most of the mercury fires were out by year three, which is good because they attract flesh-reaping Blood Moths, and who needs that, am I right? These days, the few remaining humans limp across the ruins of America in tribes. There’s plenty to eat; the extraneous limbs that sprout overnight from our radiation-soaked bodies make sure of that. Sure, a spare arm could be useful in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but a guy’s gotta eat! They’re like body hair anyway; cut ’em off today, they just grow back bigger and thicker tomorrow. Anyway, I guess it could be worse. I heard at Ground Zero they got sentient, flying monkey brains and pyrokinetic dogs the size of a city bus. Pretty inconvenient.

Anyway, hope all is still well on the off-world colonies. Thanks again for leaving us behind!

Sincerely,
The Tattered Dregs of Humanity

P.S. Fuck you.