posted on May, 12 2010 @ 03:33 AM
By June 2010, scentists are remarking on the puzzling lack of worlwide rainfall, which seems to have fallen fof the charts. Stories buried on page 17
of the mainstream media outlooks. still very much preocuupied with soon-to-be-totally-meaningles economic and global-political hijinks.
Three moths later, the situation is increasingly hard to ignore. 75% of all staple crops, grains and lifestock have died across the globe. A cause is
identified: A mutant organic polymer that is a bastard spawn of mutated plankton, decades of synthetic toxins into the ocean, several massive oil
spills that occurred in rapid and bewildering succession. Somehow from this hellbroath emerges a self-organizing, self-replecating complex of organic
and petrolium molecules. They "reporduce," so to speak, by their electomagnetic attraction and repulsion signatures, which compell similar
biomolecules in the area to adopt the same stucture. Borg-like, it speads at a parabolic speed, covering the entire earth's oceanic area within 1500
miles of any coastline. The scrim is invisiable, oxygen permiable, seveal naonometes thick...but allows no evapoation, and hence no rain. Without
oceanic evaporation, no rainclouds can make it to landfall from the still-uncovered bluewater zones deep in the atlantic and pacific. The upshot is
that 98% of man's rainfall and fresh water supplies have vanished in a matter of monts. Military efforts such as bombing the surface water with
"daisy cutters" and the like to disrupt the micron-level membraine prove ineffectual; as soon as the dust settles, the molecular covering moves out
to repair he breeaches within an hour or two.
After 6 months of this, society is barely recognizable. All rives and streams are bone-dry. Trees have mosty collapsed or burned, but a few twised,
charcoaled stumps point mutely upwards. Landscapes everywhere are sandy and dune-like, totally leached of all water. A few hardy cactai and lichen are
the last forms of life to hang on.
Humans are starting to panic. Tinderbox-dry cities burn and burn and burn. Many head on a kind of doomed, quixotic journey to the nearest coasts,
where rumor of emergency desalianation plants seems the only vialble solutuin. The millions and millions of human scarecrows that show up at the beach
find only sad reflections of themselves in the millions who arrieved earlier. Squablles, rapes and orgies, murder, and even cannibalism become common
among the incereasingly panicked migrants. They attack two or three deepwater desalianation rigs discreetly parked a distance from the beach. The
"winners" gut the place and then realize they don't have the tech skill to make it happen. In the end, a massive beach cannibalism run is the last
gasp of humanity. Eventually the few straggliong survivors of the community dirft off, unable to cohere in any way.
After billions die, a few shellshocked survivors hand on, with thieir tins of food and ancient photos of an impossibly distant "sane" world to save
them. Profoundly psychologucally shattered, the general tone of the micro-scocieties of survivors is to sink into a kind of perpetual feaver-dream,
full of mystica incantations, visiions of Boschian imagry of pure medieval hysteria and raptue, and grotesquely inapproprite group sensuality. Petty
scuffles, murders, and cannibalism take place frequently as the last sources of canned and human meat become harder to come from. Rape becomes nothing
more than a way to cement bonds of dubious connectivity and pass the endless days. Those who aren't killed by each other expire of dehydration and
starvation with death rattals amid an unfogeiving, moistureless duneworld. Little morned, quicky forgotten, humanity croaks.
[edit on 5/12/10 by silent thunder]