Instead of snow, there is radioactive ash.
Instead of a sky, there are low vaults of bomb shelters.
Instead of farmland, there is a dead desert.
Instead of the future, there is a black hole of a tunnel at the end of which no light can be seen…
In a world scorched by nuclear war, human life costs less than a piece of bread, a single cartridge, a mouthful of fresh water, and clean air.
And the question is not “how to survive in this merciless future,”
amid the ashes of civilization, among the desperate and maimed, among those mutilated by radiation sickness, among enraged half-humans— but how, while surviving, to remain human yourself.