I’M ALEC. I’M SEVENTEEN. I’m the only one left in Sector 2. Maybe the only one left anywhere, aside from you. Please respond if you’re still there … por favor. There was another survivor out there, and he knew Spanish. The por favor added a note of desperation to the almost nonchalant tone of the rest of the message. I called up a map to look at the sectors. Geography didn’t matter much when every zone was a dead one. Sector 2 looked to be about where Australia was before the final drought when the government restructured everything into sectors. When I started to type a reply, a new box came up, saying he was on GlobalNet and ready to chat. Alec? I typed hesitantly. The response was almost instant. Damn. I thought it was too good to be true. My heart almost stopped in my chest. Though I’d faithfully posted on the Net each week, it felt like I’d been writing into a void. I’d stopped believing that I’d actually find a fellow survivor. I’m here. I’m Tora. My finger hovered over the send button, when my cynical side took over.
